A short line formed at the counter as Kylie and Walter addressed the issues of the guests they were helping. Check-in times were always busy, and guests just wanted to get to their rooms and relax after traveling. So, Kylie, as concierge, did her best to get them through the process quickly.

The lobby was abuzz with activity, but every head turned at the ruckus that came through the doors. A bellman pushed a loaded luggage trolley while a guest wheeled a large suitcase behind him.

"The idea of one available trolley in a hotel is absurd."

The bellman fought to maneuver the weighted trolley.

"I apologize, sir. The others are all in use with other guests being checked in. I could always make another trip—"

"I just want to get to my room."

"Yes, sir."

Trolley man pinched the bridge of his nose as another man walked in behind him and put his arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe if you didn't pack half your house for a week trip we wouldn't need more than one trolley, and this poor soul could push one without getting a hernia."

Trolley man shoved him aside, and walked right past the line up to the desk.

"I'm checking in."

Kylie smiled at him. "Yes, sir. One of us will be with you as soon as we've helped the other guests who have been waiting."

His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth just as the other man grabbed his shoulder.

"Bruce, I made the reservation. I'll check us in. You go sit before you explode. Go find Buck and Steve."

Bruce huffed, but walked away. The other man smiled at Kylie.

"Apologies."

She nodded, and he walked to the end of the short line.

After a few minutes, he was next in line. Kylie sent a private message to Walter's screen to take his time with his current guest so she could take care of the group with Bruce. Being in charge, she felt it was her responsibility to take care of potential problematic guests.

As she finished, she looked up at the gentleman.

"How may I help you?"

"I have a reservation for four rooms. Harbor View. Executive."

"Absolutely. I just need the credit card used to hold the reservation, and an I.D."

He handed her the credit card and his passport. Her eyes darted over his picture and the name, Clint Barton, comparing it to the credit card. She typed the information in, and saw a note asking for discretion during their stay. She fought a smile, thinking of Bruce's fussing as he came through the doors. Definitely not discreet.

She closed the passport and handed it back to him, and noticed the diplomatic seal on the cover.

"Welcome to Boston, Mr. Barton. Are you here on business?"

"Shhhh… we're not using that word on this trip."

She smiled. "Understood. If there's anything we can do to make your trip enjoyable, please don't hesitate to let us know."

"Believe me, you'll be the first to know."

A bellman got off of an elevator with an empty trolley, so Kylie waved him over and handed him the room keys.

"Please take some of the luggage from Jacob's trolley, and any bags that didn't fit, and help these gentlemen to their rooms."

"Yes, ma'am."

Bruce seemed relieved when the bellman loaded his last suitcase onto the new trolley. Clint laughed.

"I'll tell him that was your doing. You'll be his favorite person here."

"High praise, I'm sure."

"You have no idea."

The group came down around eight that night, and Clint approached the counter.

"Hello again."

"Hello, Mr. Barton."

"Is there any way the four of us could have a private room to dine? We're all a bit touchy from the long trip, and would like a quiet meal together."

"Let me see what's available." Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "We do have a small room open that you could use."

"Wonderful. Could we get that for the rest of the time we're here? Just in case."

A few more clicks. "Absolutely. Same time?"

"Please."

"Ok. The room is yours. If you give us a few minutes I'll have someone get it ready, and we'll have it ready beforehand the rest of the week."

"Thank you."

Clint walked back to his friends while Kylie made a few calls. She snuck glances at the two she hadn't met. They were both tall. Taller than Clint or Bruce. One was blonde, with a vibrant smile. The other had dark brown hair, a bit long and unkempt, but not much of a smile. He seemed to brood as they sat waiting for the room. Both were very attractive.

"See anything you like?"

"Shut up, Walter."

"Which one?"

"I'm just keeping an eye on our guests. You know what the head honcho says."

"A happy guest leaves here impressed."

"Yup."

"That's the dumbest thing ever."

Kylie laughed. "Don't let him hear you say that."

"Nice try at changing the subject. Two points."

"I wasn't changing the subject. I am now. Go make sure the room is set up properly, please."

"Don't think I'll let this slide, missy."

"Sometimes I think you forget I'm your boss."

"Trust me. I don't forget. It's not everyday you luck out working for someone who is both competent and fun."

"You're such a kiss ass."

He winked at her as he left, and the four guests were escorted to the private room.

Shift change was at ten. Kylie decided to check on Clint and his friends before clocking out for the night.

"Gentlemen, how are we doing in here?"

The four sat drinking and smiling. The blonde man spoke first.

"We're doing great. Thank you for getting this set up for us."

"My pleasure. Remember, if there's anything else you need, someone is at the front desk at all times. Enjoy the rest of your night."

A chorus of "thank you" and "goodnight" went up as she walked away, but a tap on her shoulder stopped her. Bruce stood there looking sheepish.

"I want to apologize for my behavior before. I get grumpy when I travel—"

"He gets grumpy when it's Tuesday," Clint said. The others all laughed, and Bruce shot them a look.

"It's no excuse for my attitude, especially toward your bellman."

"I accept the apology, sir. Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help make your stay better?"

He ran a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. "I'll let you know."

Kylie nodded, and waited for Bruce to sit again before she left.

She clocked out, said goodnight to Walter and the oncoming shift, then went to her apartment on the first floor of the hotel.

The next night, the blonde approached the counter around six. He patiently waited to be acknowledged before stepping forward. Not a common trait among guests.

"How may I help you, sir?"

"Steve. Please."

Kylie nodded, and he continued. "My friend Clint, the one who checked us in, he's looking to see a good play. I thought you might be able to help with that."

"Certainly. There's a great musical playing at The Opera House at seven thirty. I can call and have tickets waiting for you if you'd like."

He smiled, and her stomach did a little flip. He really was gorgeous.

"If the show is as good as you say, shouldn't it be difficult to get tickets so late?"

"I have some connections," she said with a smile.

He gestured to the phone. "By all means."

Kylie had a good friend at The Boston Opera House. Heather. They had both been working at their jobs long enough to form a relationship both inside and outside of work. Heather always kept a handful of tickets on standby for her.

Steve grinned as she hung up the phone.

"No way."

"Four tickets. Front row dress circle."

"I'm impressed."

"I put them under Mr. Barton's name, since I didn't have your last name. I hope that's ok."

"That's fine." He held out his hand. "Steve Rogers."

"Kylie Shaw."

He lifted her hand and pressed a soft, quick kiss to the back.

"Thank you, Miss Shaw."