by Emma Hart
Chloe hooked the beads around her neck and came back to us. “He just paper airplaned me his phone number. Like grabbed it from the table and threw it.”
“That’s kinda smooth,” I admitted.
“But you’re not going to call him,” Peyton reminded her. “Since you’re hopelessly in love with my brother.”
“I am not hopelessly in love with your brother!”
“We’re not having this conversation again. We all know you’re in love with Dom, so get over it. Can we go now?” What? I’d take advantage of this change in conversation if it meant I could get out of this dare.
They both shook their heads. “Nope. You’re going to flash someone, and you’re going to do it right now.”
“Not wearing a bra!”
“Even better,” Chloe said. “You might get laid as well as beads.”
“I should already be at home. In bed. For work tomorrow.” I was such a party pooper. Also: a responsible adult. Most of the time.
Peyt grabbed my hand. “One flash. Ten seconds. Then I promise, I will hail us a cab and go home.”
I was going to regret this. “Fine. But you have literally ten seconds to find someone for me to flash at, or I’m out of here.”
On those words, she quite literally dragged me down the street, her eyes searching left and right for a balcony where I could lose my dignity.
“That one. Right there.” She pointed to a balcony where four guys were sitting. They were older than the possibly-legal guy Chloe had just flashed. Not much older than us by the looks of it, but it was dark, and the lighting wasn’t exactly LED bright, so who knew?
One of the guys leaned over the balcony and shouted something. I didn’t know what it was, but Peyton obviously heard him, because she shouted back, “What have you got? We’re not all wearing bras!”
Oh, Jesus.
I took a step back, but Chloe stuck her finger in the middle of my spine, making me go back forward. I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but my eyes scanned the balcony. They were all good looking. One with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes. Another with what seemed like jet-black hair and equally dark eyes. One who had his back to me.
And the guy in the corner.
No kidding, my clit danced a little bit for joy.
All right, so there was the part of me that’d already sacrificed its dignity.
Dark, wavy hair that was swept to one side and back. A sharp jaw that was dotted with dark stubble, just enough that it would tickle if you brushed your fingers over it.
His piercing gray eyes found mine, holding my gaze hostage for a moment before full lips curved into a smirk so daring and sexy I was ready to go spidergirl and climb up there to lick it right off his handsome face.
Well, all right. If I wanted to do that, I could flash. Right? Right.
Chloe nudged me. “Triple flash. Ready?”
“Yes.” No. Never. Not ever.
Wasn’t there another way to reclaim our youth? Like, oh, act our ages?
“One, two, three.”
I did it. All that was holy, I grabbed the bottom of my shirt, looked Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent in the eye, and flashed my bra-less boobs for the entire city to see.
Fine. Not the entire city, but it felt like it.
Thank God this city was already a pool of sin.
Mr. TDS—because Tall, Dark, and Silent was just way too long to keep saying, even inside my head—twitched his lips upward, grabbed something off the table, and tossed it my way.
A tiny shot bottle of Fireball.
Great.
That was all my dignity was worth.
I’d just flashed for Fireball.
I uncapped the bottle and downed it in one. Maybe it’d help me forget.
Lord, no. Nothing would help me forget this.
Chloe tossed a string of beads around my neck. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“I don’t know,” Peyton said. “She looks pretty traumatized.”
Stopping in the middle of the street, enough of a distance away from the balcony with the hot guys, I stared at both of them. “You’re both dead to me.”
They burst out laughing.
“Think about it this way,” Peyton said, linking her arm through mine and handing me my empty, giant cup. “You never have to see them again. You wouldn’t recognize them at an empty bus stop.”
Yeah, well, if she was wrong, I was going to kill her.
***
“The elevator is behind the reception counter and to your left. You’re floor three, room six.” Lillie slid a card-sized folder across the counter. “Thank you, and enjoy your stay.” She smiled her brightest smile at the customer who’d just taken the keycard from her and stayed in that perfectly poised position until the new check-in had headed for the elevators.
“All okay?” I asked, leaning against the side of the counter.
She nodded. “How are you feeling today? Better than yesterday when you had paperwork to do?” A knowing glint flickered in her eyes.
I held up my finger. “First, I did have paperwork to do. I also had a very important cat nap to take.”
Lillie laughed.
“And yes, I’m fine. No more hangover. Which is just as well, because it’s Monday, and the new owner is coming in to meet everyone today.”
She wrinkled up her face. “Do you know anything about him?”
I smacked my lips together. “I finally know his name since he emailed me last night to tell me what time he’d be here today. Jacob Creed. Other than that, not a thing.”
“He sounds old.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, he’ll be here in about thirty minutes, no matter his age. I have to get the order in, so I’m going to see Harley to make sure she hasn’t messed up the bar one again.”
Lillie winced. “Right. Quinn is on vacation.”
“I want her back already,” I muttered. “If I don’t come back by the time Mr. Creed arrives, get one of the bell guys to take him to my office and come get me from the storeroom. I’ll be counting vodka and wishing I could drown in it.”
“I see you learned a lot from your hangover.”
I put my finger to my lips and pushed off the counter. I headed for the bar where I could already see Harley zipping back and forth. It was barely lunchtime, and it was already getting packed. The hotel was small, but the drinks were marginally cheaper than some of the bars, so we packed out quickly with people starting early.
Catching Harley between customers, I slipped behind the bar and pulled her to the side with an apology. “Did you do the order this morning?”
She took a deep breath.
That was reassuring.
“I did.”
“Is it correct?”
“I think so.”
“In other words, you need me to go to the storeroom and check it over.”
She grimaced. “Please? Quinn changed some of the brands, and I’m still getting used to them.”
For a mixologist-in-training, she was a few colors short of a rainbow, this one.
“All right. Where’s the form? And is everything in the bar done?”
“Yes! And it’s right here.” She pulled it out from the cupboard. “Quinn sorted the bar and stocked it before she went, so I know it’s all good.”
It better have been.
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll go and do this.” I left the bar, swung through into the kitchen to get the chef’s order form, and took both books into the chilly storeroom.
A shiver rippled across my skin at the cooler air, but I quickly got accustomed to the temperature and got to work on the bar order. I scanned gins, vodkas, fruity liquors… More bottles than I ever cared to pay attention to. They all blurred into one as I sighed and made my way through it.
Let’s just say it was a good thing I was here to check it.
I was almost done when a glint of a blue bottle caught my eye. It was on the floor, rolled under the very bottom shelf. With another heavy sigh, I tugged
my skirt up over my knees and got down onto them to get it, crawling beneath the shelf to grab it.
If it was broken, I’d lose my shit.
A throat cleared from somewhere behind me.
I jerked, banging the back of my head on the wooden shelf above me. “Shit! Oh, hell!” I grabbed the thankfully unsmashed bottle and crawled back out. “I’m sorry,” I said, clearing the shelf.
“Mellie Rogers? The manager?”
That sounded like I was in trouble.
“That’s me.” I stood up and turned, clutching the bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin with one hand and doing my best at straightening my skirt at the same time.
“Jacob Creed. I’m the new owner. The girl at the front said you were here.”
I looked up from my skirt and—
Oh no.
No, no, no.
I knew that dark, wavy hair. And that jaw. And those lips. And I definitely knew those gray eyes.
Because I’d looked into them as I’d flashed my boobs not even forty-eight hours earlier.
I was going to fucking kill Peyton Austin and Chloe Collins.
Chapter Three
Upside #3: There’s almost never a commitment to the people who have seen your tatas. Almost.
“Oh, fuck.”
The words escaped me before I could stop them—and so did the bottle of gin. It slid right out of my grip and shattered as it made contact with the cold, concrete floor. I jumped back, away from the mess I’d just created, but I was almost numb to it. Any other day, I’d be rushing to clean it up.
Now, I left it. Left the glass to glint in the glaring overhead lights and the gin to trickle between the slightly uneven ridges in the floor.
How was this possible? How was Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent standing in front of me?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was never supposed to see him again. And now the universe was telling me his name was Jacob Creed—the hotel’s new owner and my new boss?
No, no, no.
I was hungover. Daydreaming. In a nightmare. There was absolutely no way this was real. It couldn’t be.
And in the space of five minutes, no matter what this was, I’d banged my head, sworn, and smashed a bottle of alcohol.
Good going, Mellie.
“I mean. Hi. I was just rescuing this.” I pointed at the shattered bottle. “It fell. Rolled. Apparently, a pointless rescue.”
His lips were pulled into that same smirk they’d formed on Saturday night, and his gray eyes glinted almost silver as he stepped forward and the light hit them. “Come away from that glass. Is there someone who can clean it up?”
“There’s a broom…somewhere.” Dazed. I was dazed. Shit.
Gray eyes scanned the room lighting up when they landed on the broom. He grabbed it and moved to sweep up most of the glass, pausing only to pick up what was left intact of the bottle.
I watched like an idiot until he was done and all that remained was a wet patch of wasted gin.
“Is your head okay?”
“My head?” I blinked at him.
He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “You just banged it on the shelf.”
Oh my God, I did.
“It’s…” I felt the back of my head. “A lump. It’s fine. It’ll go down.”
“Here, let me see.”
I giggled nervously and stepped back. “No, really, it’s fine. It’s not big. Just a small one.” I clapped my hand over the back of my head, but if his step forward was any indication, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Please, let me check. Just in case it should be iced.”
I took a deep breath and slowly let my hand fall to my side. “Fine.”
He stepped behind me and gently parted my hair. I fought the urge to give into the shiver that wanted to tickle its way down my spine as he softly ran his fingertips over my scalp.
Why did that feel so good?
Why was I thinking this? Didn’t I have enough to worry about now?
“I think that needs some ice. Just in case.” He let my hair fall back into place and walked around to face me. “Do you feel okay? No dizziness or anything?”
“Does embarrassed count as okay?”
“I’d say that depends on the cause of the embarrassment.” His eyes sparkled with silent laughter.
Yep. There went any hope it’d been too dark for him to see my face.
“I think I’ll go and get that ice.” I picked up the order books and, with my cheeks burning, grabbed the keys. He followed me out, and I locked the door, checked it, and glanced at him. “I’m sorry about that. You were supposed to be taken to my office.”
He shrugged a shoulder and adjusted the sleeve of his jacket. “The bell guys were all busy, and the girl on reception didn’t want me hanging around, so she sent me back here.”
“Lillie. The reception girl.” I glanced at him. “Well, I’m sorry. She should have taken you to the staff area, at least.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t get lost. Which, for someone who got banned from going to the grocery store as a child because of that reason, is a pretty damn good feat.”
My lips twitched into something that resembled a smile. My head was feeling damn sore.
“Hey, Lil, do we have ice packs anywhere?” I asked.
She glanced at Mr. TDS behind me.
Could I call him that now? Hmm.
“I’m not sure. There might be some in the kitchen. Why?”
“My fault,” Mr. TDS jumped in with a raise of his hand. “She was getting a bottle that had rolled under the shelves, and instead of waiting, I distracted her, and she hit her head. She needs to ice it.”
“Actually, I’m fine. It’s fine,” I said. Who was I reassuring? Probably myself, because that throbbing was growing.
“You’re not fine. That’s one hell of a lump.” Mr. TDS looked at me firmly. “You need to ice it and sit down.”
Lillie fought a smile. “Brittany’s about to get off her break in a few minutes. Why don’t y’all go to the office, and I’ll have her bring one down to you when she’s back?”
“Fine. Sure. Thank you.” I forced a smile. “Oh, Lillie, this is Jacob Creed. Mr. Creed, this is Lillie. She’s head of reception.”
They shared a handshake.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Creed. I promise she’s not usually this clumsy,” Lillie quipped.
“Pleasure is all mine, Lillie. That ice pack would be great, as soon as possible. Oh—and there’s a little gin on the floor. Is there anyone with a mop who can take care of it?” He smiled a dazzling smile.
He hadn’t even dropped it before she had the phone in her hand.
“I’ll get it sorted right away.”
Oh, Jesus.
“Come on. Before she starts giggling,” I muttered under my breath.
Luckily, she didn’t hear me.
But Jacob Creed did. He gave a low chuckle as he followed me through the hotel to the back room where my office was. I unlocked the door, then flicked on the light as I walked in.
“Can you shut the door behind you? Thanks. Everyone comes in otherwise.” I put the order books on my desk next to my computer and clasped my hands together.
Boy, now what did I say?
Hi, how was your weekend? I’m sorry you know what my boobs look like beneath my blouse, Mr. Boss, sir?
“Let’s try the introduction thing again.” He took a step forward. “Jacob Creed. New owner and, as they tell me, the person in charge.”
I hesitated only a second before putting my hand into his much larger one. “Mellie Rogers. Manager and apparent hot mess.”
His grip was firm, but it was his smile that once again, captured my attention.
He had the most real kind of smile. Not forced, and you could see it in his eyes, whether it was a smirk or a wide grin like the one he was wearing right now.
It was dangerous.
Daring.
Like crack for my libido, if I was honest.
A knock on the d
oor made me step back and withdraw my hand. “Yes?”
It opened a crack. “I have your ice pack.” Brittany’s voice came through the gap.
“Oh! Thanks. Come in.”
She stepped inside and with her blonde-haired head down, passed me the ice pack.
“Thanks so much. Brittany, this is Jacob Creed, the new owner. Mr. Creed, this is Brittany. She works both reception and concierge.”
“Pleasure.” He smiled and offered her his hand.
She shook, mumbled something, and excused herself.
Jacob watched her go. “She works with people?”
Despite the pain in my head, I laughed. “You wouldn’t think it. She’s the shyest person I know, but when she’s on concierge, she can find you anything. It’s quite remarkable. We should sit down.”
“You should put that ice pack on your head.” He gave me another pointed look.
With the petulance of a sulky teen, I stared back at him and touched the towel-wrapped pack to the back of my head. “There we go. I have to admit, it’s been a long time since an owner has been here telling me what to do.”
He grinned, resting his right ankle on his left knee. He sat right back and, linking his fingers, rested his clasped hands on his lap. “I was told by the previous owner he didn’t do much more than invest.”
“He hasn’t invested in this place in two years.” I could barely help the bitterness that crept into my tone. “Isn’t it painfully obvious?”
Jacob nodded. “But I knew that when I bought it. Admittedly, it was from photos that seemed to be a little old.”
“You bought it without seeing it?”
Another nod. “I’m not from here.”
“No. I couldn’t tell. You sound so Southern,” I drawled.
Another smile from him. “My grandfather recently passed, and the deal on my inheritance was that I had to invest it in a business.”
“First, I’m sorry,” I said. “Second, and you picked this one?”
He laughed lightly, a deep sound that made the hair on my arms stand on end. “New Orleans fascinates me. I wanted a challenge. Apparently, I found one.”
That sounded like it had more than one meaning.