Heaven's a Beach

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Heaven's a Beach Page 9

by ERIN BEDFORD


  “Obviously.” I noted that. Ernie, the security guy. Definitely someone to look into.

  “If I were you, I’d steer clear of Mr. Parks and stay on Crystal’s good side unless you want to be out of a job.” She pointed the toilet brush at me and then went back to cleaning the toilet.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, turning back to the mirror. So, Riley and Crystal fought over the thefts. Crystal was dating the security guy. Something stunk and not just this person’s toilet bowl.

  12

  The next morning, I sat at my table eating the fluffiest scrambled eggs I’d ever put in my mouth. It was as if someone took one look at the beds at this place and thought, “You know what would taste good? Cloud eggs.” And then they just did it. I didn’t even need to put my usual hot sauce on them like I usually did. They were that good.

  I was so engrossed by my eggs that I didn’t see Michael join me until he spoke.

  “I cannot figure out if I should be jealous or not?”

  “Oh, be jealous.” I smirked with a mouth full of eggs. Not the sexiest look but my mouth felt like a million bucks. I could give up being sexy for one morning.

  Michael made a disbelieving sound, and I glanced up from my eggs. He stood beside me looking as delicious as the eggs on my plate. His blonde hair looked like he had been running his hand through it. His chiseled jaw was even more defined this morning, the muscle there tensed until I thought it might break.

  “What’s your problem?” I scooped up another fork full of eggs and shoveled it into my mouth. “Why the sour puss?”

  “I am not a sour puss,” Michael snapped, his biceps flexing as he crossed them over his chest.

  I sighed and dropped my fork onto my plate and picked up my knife. Lucky for me there wasn’t anyone else in the breakfast area. I’d been late getting up after my one and only day of being a maid, something I will never repeat again. My feet just couldn’t take it. Plus, people were disgusting. Maids did not get paid enough to deal with the monstrosity of the things we had to deal with yesterday.

  One room in particular would forever be ingrained in my mind. I couldn’t even think about it let alone tell anyone. Let’s just say it involved way too many used condoms and sheets that would be better off burned than cleaned.

  The sting of the knife cut through my dirty thoughts as I pressed the knife to my forearm. I’d been abusing my fingers way too much lately and not in a good way. I could deal with a tiny cut on my arm. I could blame it on clumsiness or maybe even work-related. I wondered if I could claim workman comp for this?

  “What are you doing?” Michael asked, his eyes fixed on the blood coming from the small cut.

  “Fixing your face. Now, drink up.” I held my arm up to him. Michael looked at it suspiciously as if I had poisoned it somehow. Really, what was up his butt? Someone obviously needed to get laid. “Come on, hurry up. This is a fancy place. They won’t leave me alone for very long. If their noses were shoved any further up my ass, they’d be eating my breakfast for me.”

  Quirking a brow, Michael leaned forward and pressed his mouth to my arm. The reaction was immediate, and I withdrew my arm, pressing my napkin to it. It wasn’t a deep cut, it’d stop bleeding easily. I wasn’t suicidal. I might want angelic cock but not enough to kill myself for it.

  Michael took the seat across from me and used the napkin on his side to wipe the blood from his mouth. “Thank you, but I don’t see how this will improve my mood.”

  Forcing myself not to sigh at his drama queen attitude, I met the eyes of a waiter who had just come in to handle their one customer like he had five minutes before. See, nose in ass. I raised my hand up, gesturing for him - Tim - to come over. He practically skipped toward me like a dog eager to see his owner.

  “What can I do for you, beautiful?” He grinned so big I could see his molars, his hands rubbing together in front of him. Was he rubbing lotion on? Or had he just finished practicing for his evil dark lord speech? You know the one. Where they give away their big plan right before they think they are going to kill you, but then you end up getting away and saving the day because they had literally told you their plan. Stupid, really.

  Not saying any of the thoughts running through my head, I picked my fork up and pointed it at Michael. “Could I get a plate of these heavenly eggs?”

  Michael snorted at my description which I answered with a wink.

  “And isn’t this a yummy piece of sunrise.” Tim gaped at Michael for a moment, one hand to his chest. Okay, he wasn’t a brown-noser. He just didn’t care for what I had between my thighs. I could respect that. If my only customer were taking their sweet ass time eating while I could be in the back gossiping with the rest of the crew, I’d be - okay, I wouldn’t even be close to as nice as this guy - I’d be a dick. Just so they would leave as quickly as possible. The fact Tim had even bothered to check on me was a testament to his character. Or his need for me to get the fuck out. Though, I had a feeling that now that Michael was here, his tune had changed.

  “This is Michael.” I pointed with my fork. “And he is having a bad day.” I poked my lip out in a pout and gave Michael my best puppy dog eyes.

  “I am not having a bad day,” Michael growled, his eyes searing into me. I cocked a brow and looked up at Tim and then back to Michael. Tapping his silverware against the table, Michael sighed. “Fine. You win. Bring me the eggs.”

  “See?” I lifted a forkful to my mouth. “Food solves everything.”

  “Preach it.” Tim pursed his lips, waved a finger. “I’ll be right back with your eggs.”

  I nodded, and Tim started walking away. Before he could get very far, I had a wicked idea. “Hold up, Tim! Can you bring me some hot sauce?”

  Tim waved a hand back letting me know he heard me before disappearing behind the double doors to the kitchen.

  “Soooo …” I drew out, picking up the glass of orange juice that had been squeezed by angels. The fat babies in diaper kind, not the hunk-a-hunk of burning love type. Though, I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t drink something Michael hand squeezed for me. Especially, if it involved him naked in the kitchen, a tiny apron the only thing covering his Johnson. Okay, sidetracked. I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter. I blame the angels. I was only human, and they were too beautiful and charming to not want to have all to myself all the time.

  “So?” Michael answered back, not budging at all.

  “Are you really going to make me ask again?” I sat my drink down and leaned back in my seat, my hands settled on my stomach. “Because I can do this all day. Just ask Mandy. There’s never been a time that I wasn’t able to get the truth from her.”

  “I’m an angel, an archangel at that. I doubt you can make me do anything I don’t want to do.” The superior tone in his voice made me laugh.

  “You don’t think I can?” my lips curved up into a cheeky grin. “If I could get Becka Adams, who is quite the tight-lipped little Nancy, to spill all her dirty secrets, then I think I can get one angel to tell me why he’s acting like the Devil took his favorite toy.”

  Michael flinched.

  My eyes widened a fraction, and I leaned my elbow on my chair, my hand covering my mouth as I tried and failed to stifle my laughter. “You’re serious. You’re really, really serious. Wow. I didn’t expect this. I mean, I thought you were all on board with the whole ‘let’s all get naked and sweaty with Jane’ thing.” When Michael didn’t answer and, if possible, got even more broody, I clammed up, suddenly feeling bad about laughing. “Should I apologize?”

  “For what?” Michael asked.

  I started to answer and then stopped when Tim came sauntering back out with Michael’s plate of eggs. He sat the bottle of hot sauce on the table as well and smiled. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No, we’re good.” I smiled up at him.

  Tim nodded and started to leave but then stopped and turned back to us. “Let me know if the eggs don’t do it. Some of us employees are h
aving a party tonight right here in the breakfast hall. A real ‘leave your keys at home’ kind. If it doesn’t turn his day right side up, then nothing will.”

  His eyes moved up and down Michael as if he were savoring him. I understood. I’d been there before. I still got a bit breathless with each meeting. Tim offered us a coy grin and a wink before leaving.

  A party, huh? Might be fun. God knew we needed some. And based on the sour expression on Michael’s face, he definitely needed some. But first I had to fix what was broken.

  “Are you mad that I had sex with Lucifer and Gabriel?” I asked, deciding to rip the band-aid off in one swift go.

  “No, no.” Michael shook his head, fiddling with his fork before taking a tentative bite of his eggs. I watched, only partially interested in his reaction to the first human food he’d ever eaten. And I wasn’t disappointed.

  His eyes closed for a moment, his jaw moving up and down as he took his time rolling it around in his mouth. He seemed to be trying to get as much flavor out of it as possible before he finally swallowed. His eyes opened.

  “Good?” I asked, leaning forward, a bit eager to learn what he thought.

  Michael didn’t answer but took another bite, this time much larger than the last. After a few seconds, it was like he had forgotten what we were talking about and only had eyes for the food on his plate. Not that I was upset. That had been the whole point, but I had a feeling it was only putting off the inevitable.

  “I am not upset that you had intercourse with Lucifer and Gabriel,” Michael admitted when his plate was half empty.

  “You’re not?”

  “No.”

  When he didn’t say anything else on the matter, I had to push my luck. “Okay, so if you’re not upset about the sex, then what is it?”

  Michael sat his fork down and clasped his hands in front of him, his face closing down. “There was an argument between the three of us.”

  “An argument?” I scooched forward in my seat, my face pinched with concern. I’d seen them fight before. It wasn’t a pretty picture. The world itself shook, and feelings were hurt. If you’d ever had to cheer up the literal Devil, you wouldn’t want to hear them fighting either.

  “Yes, it was implied that … well … that you enjoyed your time with them more than you did with me.” His eyes dipped down, and I could have cried. I didn’t because it would have made the whole thing worse, but I did push my chair back and move over to his side.

  Pulling his chair out, I leaned down and placed my hands on either side of his face. I took his mouth with mine, pouring as much feeling into it as I possibly could. Of all of them, I never expected Michael to the be the insecure one. Lucifer, sure. He was a big baby about most things. God forbid he wasn’t the center of attention. But not strong, confident Michael. The hand of God.

  I released his mouth with a squelching sound. He stared up at me with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin on his lips. Happy to have gotten the reaction I’d hoped for, I went back to my seat.

  “Now, are we good?” I asked, before finishing off my eggs.

  Michael cleared his throat and moved his chair back up to the table. Instead of answering me, he picked up the bottle of hot sauce. “Do you put this on your food?”

  “Yes.”

  One brow lifted, and Michael opened the top and poured a substantial amount onto the remaining eggs on his plate. I made a small, strangled noise in the back of my throat, but held it back, letting him cover his plate with it. My fingers dug into the table as I watched him fill his fork with it and, in slow motion, lift it to his mouth.

  I should have told him what to expect. I’d done so with Gabriel. Well, kind of but I couldn’t help myself. The very fact that he hadn’t asked and had just dumped a shit-ton on his food was reason enough to let him learn his lesson the hard way.

  Michael’s reaction was immediate. His eyes bulged from his head, and he tried to spit the taste out but only succeeded making himself look like a dribbling weirdo. I lifted my cup of orange juice up and handed it to him. He yanked it from my hands, spilling some over onto my hands.

  While he drained the cup, I wiped my hands off on my napkin and smiled. “So, this party?”

  13

  “I said I was sorry,” I exclaimed for the millionth time since breakfast.

  “I didn’t say anything.” Michael stared forward, not looking at me as we made our way toward the party Tim had invited us to.

  “You don’t have to, I can see it in your face. You’re still pissed.” I huffed and crossed my arms over my sparkly halter top. I didn’t know what kind of party it was, but the way Tim had made it sound mean, it was more booze and wine coolers than caviar and scotch, which worked for me. I’d always been a cheap drunk. My five-dollar bottles of wine at home could attest to that.

  “I apologize if my face has given you that impression.” Michael tucked his hands into his pockets, his eyes still facing forward. He had lost his corporeal form a bit after breakfast, and before that he had been reaming into me about warning a friend. Really, if I’d known he was going to be such a big baby about it, I wouldn’t have let him try it at all.

  He’d disappeared after that, to do God knew what. Probably to pout. Freaking baby. Then he popped up just five minutes before I planned to leave for Tim’s party, looking way better than he should. I mean, Michael always looked good, but tonight, he looked particularly biteable.

  He must have gotten some pointers from the others or found some old T.V. show to watch because he wouldn’t have picked what he was wearing on his own. Tight, butt-hugging black pants and a button-down, short-sleeved shirt. I didn’t see Michael in button downs often. Usually, his go-to attire was sweaters and thick V-necks, a ‘casual manager’ kind of a look.

  I didn’t need any persuasion to give him a bit of the red stuff to make him material again.

  I grabbed his arm and stopped him before we could get any further. “Look, can we just put the whole hot sauce thing behind us? You’re the one who wanted to go on a date with me. This party tonight can be that.”

  “Really?” Michael’s brow furrowed. “A party counts? I thought we had to be alone for it to be a date.”

  “No, no.” I shook my head, waving a hand in front of me. “A date can be anything. Even sitting in the room watching T.V. and binging out. Though most of the time that just ends up with people getting naked and sweaty.” I giggled, but it died off at the heated look in Michael’s eyes.

  Michael picked up my hand and brought it up to his lips, brushing his mouth against it. “Then I would be happy to escort you.”

  A bit breathless, I said, “Okay.” The distance between us seemed to close, and I could feel my eyelids getting heavy as I pushed up on my tiptoes. We were just moments from pressing our lips together when a gaggle of giggling women all dolled up like us came barreling through the hallway.

  Breaking apart but without lessening the tension between us, I grabbed Michael’s hand and led him toward the direction the women had gone. There was only one place they could be heading, and if the pounding of the bass reverberating beneath my feet was anything to go by, we were going in the right direction.

  We pushed open the door to the breakfast hall and were immediately assaulted by the loud music. How the rest of the spa couldn’t hear it was beyond me. I hadn’t heard a single thing from my room. I’d never have known there was a wild party going on over here had Tim not invited me.

  I hadn’t gotten more than a few steps into the hall before Rose found me. Her red hair was pinned up in an elaborate do and wore a flowery sundress. Not something I’d have picked for this kind of party but pretty all the same.

  “Patty!” she cried out, grabbing my hands. “We all thought you quit when you didn’t show up to work today.”

  “Oh, uh.” I glanced up at Michael and then back to Rose. “I kind of did.”

  “Oh, poo. And after you were getting so good too.” Rose pouted, and then a second later she was back, beaming like
a lighthouse. “Hi, I’m Rose.” She held her hand out to Michael and blushed as he took it into his own. A real charmer that one and he didn’t have to say a word.

  “This is my boyfriend, Michael,” I said automatically and then clamped my hand over my mouth, my eyes shooting to the archangel. He arched a brow but didn’t correct me.

  Rose thankfully didn’t notice the exchange. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. And have fun. I hope we get to see each other more. Even though you won’t be my trainee anymore.”

  “You too,” I muttered and watched her flounce away before turning to Michael. “I hope that was okay, calling you my boyfriend like that.”

  “I didn’t mind. Though I hardly constitute as a boy.” He eyed me in a way that had my panties drenched in seconds.

  “Of course not. It’s just an expression. A way to say we’re together.”

  “And are we?”

  “Together?” I wrung my hands in front of me. “Well, I’d hope so. I don’t exactly show my goodies to just anyone, Lucifer and Gabriel aside.”

  “And are they your boyfriends as well?” Michael wrapped an arm around my waist leading me further into the room. The beat of the music pulsed through my veins along with my pounding heart. How exactly did I answer this? I mean, we hadn’t really had a big group discussion about what we were. I’d hate to presume, but I had a feeling Gabriel and Lucifer would be okay with me calling them my boyfriends.

  “Yeah.” I grinned up at him finally, stopping myself from fretting over it anymore. “You all are. Is that okay?” I peeked up at him looking for his reaction.

  “If it makes you happy, I do not have a problem with it.” Michael drew me up against him, so that our bodies lined up, his hand taking mine in his. “Now, show me how to dance like a human would.”

  Giggling despite myself, I wrapped my other arm around Michael’s neck and moved my body to the beat. My hips pressed against his, urging him to move with me. We swayed and moved to the beat, getting lost in our movements and each other. Michael was a great dancer for someone who’d never danced to human music. I was sure the music in heaven was all harps and trumpets; hard to really dance to that. At least, not like this.

 

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