Trouble (9 page)

And now it’s me making sure not to touch her in this exchange. Even though I want to, something tells me that right now I shouldn’t.

“Breakfast is served between seven and eight-thirty.” It’s on me to make breakfast tomorrow as it’s Paula’s day off. Paula is both our cleaner and our cook. She’s worked here ever since I can remember.

“And we don’t do evening meals, but there are plenty of restaurants nearby,” I add, remembering the remainder of my spiel.

“Are there any other guests staying here?” Her voice sounds small.

I turn back to her. “No. Not until next week. Until then, it’s just you and me.”

The look on her face throws me for a loop. She looks terrified.

What the hell? Jeez, it’s not like we’re the Overlook Hotel.

“Don’t worry. It’s totally safe out here,” I feel compelled to say. “We have a great alarm system, and I have a shotgun. You know, just in case.” I wink as I laugh.

At the mention of a shotgun, her body stiffens and she looks like she’s about to bolt.

Or puke.

Okay, I’m guessing
that
was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m totally kidding, I don’t have a gun here.”

That’s a bit of a lie. We do have guns. My dad used to be a cop, so he still has shotguns, and rifles for hunting. I know how to shoot. I’m pretty good. Dad taught me when I was a kid, but I think it’s best if she doesn’t know that.

I lift my empty hands, palms facing, placating. “No guns. I promise. No need for them. Like I said, it’s a safe place.”

She pulls on her lip again. Then runs her fingers around her ear, tucking her short hair behind it. I see that her hand is trembling again.

“Are you okay?” I take a small step forward.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

She doesn’t sound it, but I don’t press it. It’s none of my business.

“Okay, well if you need anything, just press reception on the phone in your room, and it’ll bring you straight through to me. Goodnight, Mia.” I step back, ready to leave.

Her brows knit together. “How do you know my name?”

Damn, I should have called her Ms. Monroe, but something about her feels familiar like I should always be calling her Mia.

And now
I
sound like a stage five clinger.

Awesome.

“I got it from your details when you filled the form in.” I smile.

“Oh, right. Yes.” She laughs a little sound, and it hits me straight in the chest, leaving a tingling fullness there.

What the hell?

“What should I call you?” she asks.

There are a million different ways I could answer this, none of them clean.

I lean my shoulder against the wall and push my hand into my pocket. “Jordan.”

She turns and mirrors me, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Is this your hotel, Jordan?” My name sounds amazing on her lips.

I let out a laugh. “No. My dad’s. He’s away taking care of my Grandpa at the moment, so I’m holding the fort.”

“Oh, nothing serious I hope?”

“No, just a minor op, but he’s off his feet for a few weeks, so Dad’s gone to take care of him.”

She nods her pretty head. “Well, thank you. Again.” She smiles once more before disappearing into the room.

The door shuts. I hear the lock click.

I lean back against the wall.

So I have a
very hot, nervous one minute, friendly the next
,
chick on my hands who I cannot have sex with under any circumstances.

Should be interesting.

Feeling unsatisfied … but satisfied that my only paying guest is settled for the night, I push off the wall and head downstairs to feed my other guest.

He’s actually more of a resident than a guest. Guests usually leave, but he’s been a permanent fixture here for over a year now.

He makes for a great alarm system, but he’s slobbery and hairy, and the only one I’ve ever let sleep in my bed. He’s a mouth we could do without feeding, but when he turned up at our door a starving puppy just over a year ago, I couldn’t turn him away. So we kept him, and now we have a dog. A huge fucking dog.

I go to the kitchen and get his clean bowl off the drainer. I grab a can of his favorite food from the pantry and empty it into the bowl.
Jesus, this stuff stinks.
I mix in his biscuits just as he likes and call for him.

“Dozer, dinner’s up.”

I hear his huge paws pound against the floor as he makes his way from our private living room down the hall.

He comes barreling through the open kitchen door and straight into my legs, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Jesus Christ, Dozer!” I growl, steadying myself on the counter.

With a grunt he sits by the backdoor with a dopey look on his face.

“Bulldozer.” I laugh, shaking my head.

I pick up his bowl and cross the kitchen. On the way, I grab a beer from the refrigerator.

I turn on the outside light and open the back door, letting Dozer out. I set his bowl on the step, and his nose goes straight in it.

I sit on the step beside him and take a swig of my beer.

“We’ve got a guest, Dozer, and she’s hot,
really
hot, but flighty, so no sniffing round her as we don’t want to scare her away. And your ugly mug would definitely scare her.”

Dozer lifts his head, gives me a dirty look, and grunts.

“What?” I chuckle.

Then he farts.

“Fuckin’ hell, Dozer!” I bury my nose in my arm. “You stinky bastard! I bet you did that on purpose! There’s no way you’re sleeping in my bed tonight after that!”

I’m trying not to laugh because laughing means inhaling, and that dog’s farts are killer. Seriously.

Dozer shoves me hard with his head, knocking me to my side. He starts climbing on me, nudging my head with his wet snout.

“Get off me, you crazy fuckin’ dog!” I’m breathless, laughing, which means inhaling, and now I’m gagging. “Jesus, Dozer, you stink! Okay! Okay! I take it back, you can sleep in my bed! Now get the hell off me!” I shove at him.

Satisfied he’s won, he climbs off me and goes back to his food.

Sitting, I pick up my beer. “Crazy ass dog,” I mutter, chuckling.

I take another swig of beer, and lean back on my hand. I stretch my legs out and look up at the night sky.

Tonight is going to be a long night, knowing I’ve got Sex Goddess upstairs, in one of my beds, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. And the only person I’ll be sharing a bed with tonight is Dozer and his farts – awesome.

I bet Mia sleeps in those sexy negligées. The see through kind. Without any underwear.

Goddamn it to hell! It’s going to be a long two fucking weeks.

I’m going to have to find someone else to keep me busy for the time Mia’s here to ensure I keep my hands off her. Someone uncomplicated and easy. Won’t be hard to find. There are always plenty of girls here vacationing with their families, bored and in need of entertainment.

The kind of entertainment I’m perfect at providing.

I’ll go up to Mountain Resort tomorrow and find myself a new fuck buddy.

With that thought in mind, I go inside to take a cold shower to get me through the rest of the night.

Chapter Six

Mia

Noise. Someone is yelling.

“Shhh,” I grumble, burying my head into the pillow.

Still yelling.

“What in the world…?” I roll over, blinking open my eyes to the dim light coming in through the drapes.

Who is yelling? It’s coming from outside.

My heart pauses.

Forbes. Has he found me?

My pulse starts to thrum, setting my body on high alert.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, I listen.

It’s definitely a guy’s voice … but no, it’s not Forbes. I’d know his voice anywhere.

I breathe a sigh of relief, laying back down.

I’m figuring it must be Jordan. I wonder what he’s yelling about.

Glancing over at the clock, I see it’s 10am.

I reach for the glass of water on the bedside cabinet and take a sip. My throat is sore. I went hard on myself last night.

I look down at my right hand – the hand which helps me purge all of my grief and self-loathing. It’s sore and itchy. I rub my finger over the calluses on my knuckles, trying to relieve the itch. They’re caused by the catching of my teeth on my skin; years and years of making myself throw up have caused this scarring.

I’m thinking about getting some cream from my bag to ease the itch when I hear Jordan call out again.

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I climb out of bed and pad my way over to the sliding doors, grabbing my sunglasses on the way and slipping them on.

I pull the drapes back, unlock the door, and step out onto the porch.

The first thing I see is the lake. Guess this why it’s called the Lakeview room. The view is gorgeous.

Jordan yells again, so unexpected and so loud that I nearly jump out of my skin.

He’s a lot closer than I realized.

With a racing heart, I approach the railing and lean over to see what he’s yelling about.

My eyes find Jordan about twenty feet from the where I stand. His back is to me. He’s wearing black work boots, dark blue jeans, and a short-sleeved black t-shirt that shows the defined contours of his shoulders and arms perfectly.

He lifts a hand to his hair. The muscles in his arm flex under his tattoos as he runs his fingers through the dark strands.
His hair looks so soft…

An image of me running my fingers through his hair flashes through my mind. I blink myself free.

He turns a little my way, lifting his hands to his mouth, he cups them and yells, what I think is, “Dozer!”

“Everything okay?” I call out.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” He spins on the spot hands clenched by his sides. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry.” I step back from the railing, but keep hold of it. My eyes are trained on his closed fists. “I just, uh, heard you yelling. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” My mouth is nervous dry, so I moisten my lips with my tongue.

His eyes flicker down to his hands, then back up to me.

I see his hands relax, and he flexes his fingers out. “Sorry, yeah, I uh…” He looks over his shoulder, then back to me. “I can’t find my dog.”

He’s got a dog? I love dogs. Never had one, always wanted one.

“I let him out earlier, and he’s gone. He’s never disappeared like this before. He never strays far from the hotel.”

He sounds really worried.

“You need help looking for him?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to consider them.

Jordan shoves his hands in his back pockets and looks down at his boots. He seems to be contemplating my offer. So am I.

What the hell possessed me to say that?

Jesus, am I that damaged that the thought of spending a little time with this seemingly okay guy to help him find his dog is so bad to comprehend?

Yes. Yes, I absolutely am.

Freeing a hand, Jordan holds his hair back from his face, tilts his head back, and stares up at me. “Sure.” He nods. “If you don’t mind.”

It’s not like I can retract my offer now.

“Of course I don’t mind.” I smile, ignoring the twinge of nerves in my stomach. “Just give me a minute to change and I’ll be right down.”

I retreat back into my room, shutting the sliding door behind me.

Standing still for a moment, I close my eyes and take in a deep, calming breath.

I can do this.

Then I open my eyes and quickly change into jeans and a t-shirt. I give my teeth a brush, slip my feet into my sneakers, run my fingers through my hair to tidy it—the beauty of short hair—and slip my sunglasses back on.

I quickly make my way through reception and out the main entrance. I walk around the hotel and find Jordan a little farther on.

I jog over to him. “Still no luck?”

“No.” He pushes his hair back, revealing his eyes.

Maple syrup. Stunning.

“He never disappears like this,” he reiterates.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him. What’s his name?”

“Dozer.”

Interesting name.

“Where do you want me to look?”

He points to the woods before us. “I’ve looked everywhere else. He wouldn’t normally go in there alone – he’s not real big on the woods, but maybe he was chasing a rabbit or something…” he trails off.

He wants me to go in there? With him.

Anxiety clamps down on my chest like a vice.

There’s something about the solitude of the woods and Jordan combined that isn’t sitting well with me.

Stop being a coward.

“Okay.” I swallow. “The woods it is.”

We walk quietly side by side heading for the trees.

“What kind of dog is he?” I ask, trying to occupy my overactive brain.

“A Mastiff—
Dozer!
” he calls out just as we break through the trees.

Copying him, I cup my hands around my mouth and call out, “Dozer!”

My voice echoes through the trees, chasing Jordan’s echo.

We both listen for a return of sound in the form of a bark, but nothing comes.

We walk on a little farther as Jordan and I continue to take turns calling for Dozer.

After a few minutes of walking and still no sign of the dog, I pick up on the sound of passing traffic.

“Are we close to a road?” I ask.

The look on his face – realization, then complete panic. It makes me panic.

Jordan breaks off in a sprint. I run after him, trying to keep up, but his legs are longer than mine and he’s a hell of a lot faster.

I finally catch up to him close to a clearing. He’s looking around, frantically calling for Dozer.

I’m seriously out of breath and have a stitch. I’m not the fittest of people.

Bending over, I brace my hands on my thighs as I try to catch my breath.

The sound of traffic is a lot louder up here, meaning we’re really close to the road.