by Debra Kayn
She opened the employee book to the back page, and started memorizing the rules in reverse. It was a trick she'd learned a few years ago that helped her remember facts, and it broke up the boredom.
Boisterous voices grew louder, and Ava slipped her heels back on her feet. She stifled a yawn. Having never acted as a bouncer, she hoped the men would all have a drink and go straight up to their hotel rooms without any problems. She needed some sleep if she was going to appear perky tomorrow.
She bent over the book. Rule eighty-nine: All towels, robes, and other room supplies must be inventoried before morning shift started and nightshift ended. She closed her eyes and repeated the words in her head.
When she opened her eyes again, ranchers had filled the lounge. She nodded at a few who glanced her way as they took seats at the bar and hung their hats on the back of the empty chairs scattered around the room. She’d seen more cowboy hats today than she’d ever seen in her life.
The little coastal town of Seaside usually hosted tourists, not cowboys. It’d surprised her to walk into the restaurant earlier and notice they’d all removed their hats and hung them on their knees under the table when they sat down to an early dinner. They seemed well mannered, but appearances were deceiving and she knew the rumors about them were true. She’d keep her guard up tonight.
She closed the book, knowing she wasn't going to be able to concentrate with so many people around. She trailed her finger along the cover when the feeling of someone watching her trickled down her spine. She turned her head toward the entrance, and her gaze collided with Hank’s.
A different-looking Hank. He wore a pair of clean black jeans, a black buttoned shirt, and a black felt cowboy hat. His hair curled around the edges, and his dark eyes stared back at her. She gaped, unable to look away. How she’d pegged him for a regular cowboy was beyond her now. Tonight he rose above the other guests, and exuded power and yeah…a ranch owner.
“Hey guys, Hank’s buying!” A shout broke their connection.
She could sense him walking past her, up to the bar, and she nibbled on her bottom lip. This was not good. How could she pay attention to the room, when he was so fun to look at?
Cheers went up around the bar. She glanced toward the bar to find Hank taking his wallet out of his back pocket. He passed a credit card to Tony. Hmm…
Hank wasn’t the down and out cowboy she’d assumed he was going by first appearances. He seemed at ease buying everyone in the room drinks. What size ranch would someone need to have the finer things in life?
She drew a pattern in the dew on the outside of her glass. Maybe she should buy a few cows and put them in Gram’s orchard. She wiped her fingers off on her napkin. It was official. She’d bypassed the hour when she should be asleep, and silly ideas were hitting her upside the head. She didn’t know one thing about raising farm animals.
“Ava?” Hank stood beside the table. “Do you mind if I sit?”
She pointed across the table. “Feel free. I’m on duty tonight, so pretend I’m not even here.”
He raised his brows. “You’re working in the lounge?”
“Yes.” She leaned forward, whispering, “Don’t tell the others, but I’m here to muscle anyone out of the room if a fight breaks out. I'm secretly a trained ninja with hidden skills that can kill…or at least maim.”
Hank reached out and gripped her upper arm, squeezing lightly. “Got yourself big ol’ guns, darlin’. These guys should be afraid of getting an ass whippin’ if they don’t mind their manners.”
She laughed, rubbing her warm skin where he’d touched her. “I was thinking I might even get a job as a bouncer in my off hours if it’s this easy to keep the peace.”
“Why would you want to spend more hours working? A girl’s gotta’ have a social life too.”
“Maybe.” She lifted her shoulder. “It was a thought. Nothing more.”
He planted his elbows on the table. “I suppose buying you a drink is out of the question?”
“No drinking on the job. Rule twenty-six.” She pointed at the book and stifled a yawn.
“Do you always follow the rules?” He lifted his beer, never taking his gaze off her.
She squirmed in the chair. “I’ve never had a reason not to…I mean, that’s what rules are for, right? If someone pays me to do a job, I do it. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t hold up my end of the agreement.”
He set his mug down. “I was teasing.”
“Oh.” She smiled and relaxed. “Ignore me. I’ve had a long day. I should be trying to muster up enough energy to walk up to my room when my shift is finished.”
“I’d love to help you upstairs.”
His low, rough confession rolled over her like warm caramel on vanilla ice cream. She melted, sighed, and sagged in her chair imaging how it would feel to have him lay her down in the bed, whispering sweet things in her ear.
Bottles clanked at the table next to them, and she jolted, stiffening. Warmth heated her cheeks. He made her breathless. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“If you want, I could help you to your room.” He winked. “It’s on my way, and all.”
She shook her head. God, now she was even imagining he was saying something else. She really was in trouble. “No, really. It’s been a long day, and I was only wishing I could crawl in bed and—”
His eyes darkened even more, if that was possible. “It’d be my pleasure.”
She nodded. Not sure what she was agreeing with, but not wanting him to stop looking at her in such a seductive way. This wasn’t the way she usually acted. She had no idea how to flirt or converse with a man. He made it so easy to forget she was working.
“I need to make the rounds and say goodnight, but wait for me. ‘Kay?” He stood up.
“Mr…”
He shook his head and raised a finger. "No Mr."
“Hank. I can’t. Really. Thank you for asking, but I’m fine. I can manage to take the elevator by myself.” She grabbed the edge of the table. Was he swaying?
“Okay, but if you need help, you know where to find me.” He thumped the table with his knuckle.
The knock vibrated up her arms. She nodded, unable to tell him no.
She gazed after him as he approached a group of men, making some joke, laughing, and leaving them only to go and talk with another bunch of guys at a different table. He was different from the other men she knew around town, and naturally rugged. She’d never been around someone who made their living raising animals or living close to the land. Yet, there was something magnetic about him. He was trouble in boots.
Over the next hour, men sought Hank out, and seemed excited to talk with him. She could understand why. His easygoing attitude seemed to put everyone—including her—too at ease. It was a good thing she was working, or she’d be tempted to flirt back. Not that she could handle a man like him. He was way out of her league. It even surprised her that she somehow managed to talk so openly with him without making a fool of herself.
Not wanting to stare at Hank all night, she flipped open the book again. Rule eighty-six: Pool hours are from six a.m. to eleven p.m. On-site employees may use the pool in off hours, but must have prior approval from management. She turned the page. That one was easy. She'd already cleared an hour of swimming before work for this week. If Mr. Holland wanted her to stay here, she had to get in some exercise to burn off the cinnamon rolls she ate from the kitchen.
She raised her gaze and connected with Hank. He raised his glass in the air, threw her a familiar grin, and her stomach exploded in a flood of warmth. She couldn’t resist whatever he was doing to her. Her body shimmered alive, and she had the weirdest urge to giggle.
“Here’s a drink from the men at the bar, Ava.” Tony sat a peach colored, tall glass in front of her. “I’m closing the taps down, so it won’t be too long, and they’ll light out. You hanging in there?”
“Yes, thanks, Tony.” She waited until he was gone before sipping the drink. Mmm…this one’s r
eally good too.
Thank goodness he’d left the alcohol out, or she’d be slumped under the table. As it was, she could’ve floated away because her bladder was close to bursting. She took another swallow. Despite not being thirsty, she kept sipping, not wanting to insult whoever bought her the drink.
Soon, she stared into the bottom of the empty glass, sad that there was no more. For some reason, she imagined the drink matching the flavor of one of Hank’s kisses, but that was crazy. She’d never kissed him before.
“Hey.” Hank materialized in front of her, and hooked his finger under her chin. “Why such a sad look on such a pretty face?”
She blinked. He was here. He’d come to rescue her from her boredom. Hadn’t she sent him away because she had a job to do? Maybe this job came with magical powers. All she had to do is make a wish, and it came true.
She squeezed her eyes closed, imagining him scooping her up in his arms, and waited for something to happen. Not giving up when her body remained sitting in the chair, she yawned and tried picturing him lifting her in the air again. I knew it was too good to be—
Her body tilted and swung in the air. She stiffened. Her eyelids popped open, and she wrapped her arm around Hank’s neck.
“Hank?” She pulled her skirt down farther on her legs. “Put me down.”
“Hmm?”
“You shouldn’t be holding me.” She gave her head a little shake. “This is unreal.”
“Oh, it’s real, darlin’.”
No. It couldn’t be. These kinds of things never happened to her, especially when moments ago she was wondering what it would feel like to have his arms around her. Something was definitely wrong.
“Don’t get all freaked out, but I think I forced you to pick me up.” She held on to him. “Did I just say that? Did you hear me?”
“Why don’t you tell me again?” he said.
His chest rumbled underneath her, and she put her hand on the bare skin between the V of his shirt. She kept her hand there. He was hot to the touch, but in a pleasing way.
“This will sound stupid, but I made a wish. Then it came true,” she whispered.
He stopped when he reached the elevator. “Does this wish involve more than me carrying you?”
She licked her lips. “You should put me down. I’m too heavy.”
“Does it look like I can’t carry you?” His voice rolled over her and a delicious shiver swept through her..
“No.” She frowned. “This is wrong. You shouldn’t be carrying me. I shouldn’t let you carry me. I feel like I’m…”
“Feels right to me.”
“No. It’s definitely wrong.” She glanced over his shoulder, down the empty hallway. “Do you think Tony put alcohol in my drink? I feel…weird.”
“You’re an adult. Who cares if you’ve enjoyed a drink, or two?” He held out his hand. “Let me see your keycard.”
“Why?”
He shifted her body. “So, I can put you to bed.”
“Really? You’d do that?” She sighed, and then remembered where she was and what she should be doing. “I work here. I can’t fraternize with a guest.”
“Darlin’, what we’re gonna’ do isn’t called fraternizing.”
“Hank.” She pushed against his shoulders. “I need you to stop.”
He paused outside the elevator and set her on her feet. She swayed, and pressed her finger to her temple. “I-I…boy, I’m more tired than I realized. I’m lightheaded. This is not good. Not good at all. Mr. Holland is going to kill me. But, first I think I need to kill Tony.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just feel like I’m half asleep.”
“You worked too hard. I know an exhausted lady when I see one.” He moved and put his arm around her. “Let’s get you to your room.”
“That’s a good idea.” She straightened her shoulders. “Wow, I can’t believe how tired I am. Do you think Tony would've slipped me a drink with alcohol in it by mistake after I told him I couldn't have any? That’s not okay. I was working. Mr. Holland could fire me.”
“You’re over twenty-one, aren’t you?” He waited for her to unlock her door.
She nodded. “Twenty-two.”
“Really?” He harrumphed. “I thought you were older.”
"Nope." Her gaze centered on his chest and she leaned toward him. "Is that a bad thing? I mean, my age. I thought anyone over eighteen was considered an adult, and I've been an adult for a while."
He growled as she smoothed his shirt. "I'm thirty-five, Ava."
"Really?" She laughed softly, giving back what he was doing to her. "I thought you were younger."
"Cute." He chuckled. "Point taken."
She stepped inside, turned, and leaned her head against the doorframe. “Thanks for being so nice to me, Hank.”
“I’m not nice.” He glanced down the hallway, and then back at her. “Get some rest.”
“I will.” She nodded, but made no move to go inside and shut the door.
He cussed under his breath right before taking off his hat, and leaning toward her. She stared up into his eyes. No words needed to be spoken, because she knew what he was asking. In return, she tilted her chin.
She wanted him to kiss her. He gave her enough room to back away and break the crazy hold he had on her. She stilled, hardly daring to breathe. Common sense told her no and can’t, but underneath his attention, she wanted to say yes and please.
“Sweet dreams, darlin’.” He pressed his lips against her forehead, put his hat back on his head, and walked down to the end of the hallway to his suite.
She shut the door and leaned against the wood, holding her fingertips to her forehead and sighed. Oh, this is bad. Very, very bad.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Hank walked down the hallway after having breakfast in his room. A hissing noise came from behind Hank. He stopped, turned around, and scanned the area. There was no one in the hallway.
“Psst…Mr. Holland?” George opened the stairwell door wider and waved at him.
He shook his head and walked over, slipping behind the door. “Stop calling me Mr. Holland. This week, call me Hank. You’re going to blow everything!”
“Sorry, I keep forgetting, Mr. Hol—Johnson.” George held up a distributer cap. “I did what Mr. Holland wanted, but the hotel car is now blocking one of the guest’s who would like to leave for a few hours. Ava’s….”
“Spit it out, man. What’s Ava doing about it?”
“She’s talking to a mechanic and trying to fix the vehicle herself.” George opened and shut his mouth. “Sir, she’s causing quite a scene.”
Hank walked down the stairs. “I doubt that. She doesn’t appear to be the kind of woman who’d lose her temper.”
“No, sir. She’s not. That’s not the problem.” George hurried in front of him and pushed open the emergency exit door. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”
He stepped through the door and stopped. Ah hell.
Half the ranchers attending the conference stood in front of the van, blocking the whole parking lot. It wasn’t the sight of all the men outside causing traffic problems that grabbed his attention. Ava stood in front of the bumper, peering into the engine.
“What’s she doing?” He tilted his head, taking in the snug fit of her skirt hugging her posterior.
“I told you. She’s trying to fix the car.” George clicked his tongue. “The closest mechanic is unavailable to come, so she talked him into helping her over the phone."
"And, what the hell are the guests doing out here?" he asked.
"Well, they're trying to help." George shook his head. "Except, Ava wants to do it herself and won't let them. I think she's afraid Mr. Holland will hear that she asked a guest for help, and she'll have a mark on her record. Of course, the men are perfectly fine standing back and getting their fill of Ava while they wait for her to give up and ask for help. Between you and me, sir, Ava has no idea of the affect she has on men."
<
br /> He sighed and held out his hand. “Give me the distributor cap. I’ll take care of this. Try to herd the men into the hotel. She’s not a piece of candy to ogle.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hank walked across the parking lot and stood in front of the car. She had a one-sided conversation going with the person on the other end of the phone about “doohickeys” and “thingamajigs.” He glanced behind him. George coerced the men back inside, and they were slowly retreating. He stepped forward and leaned against the van.
Ava glanced at him, smiled, and spoke into the phone. “What about the black hose, does it go down by the…the belt?” She paused. “I don’t know. It looks like a fan.”
Hank waved his hand. “Ava?”
She held her finger to her lips, leaving a grease mark down her chin. “Just a minute. I’m talking to the mechanic. I think I'm getting close to figuring out why the van won't start.”
“I know.” He held up the missing car part. “I can help you.”
She raised her head and smacked into the hood. “Oomph.”
He reached out to steady her as she wobbled on her heels. Then he took the phone out of her hand, and told the mechanic that he had things under control. He handed her cell back.
“Let’s scoot you back, so you don't get your clothes dirty." He placed his hands around her elbows and moved her to the side.
She had a grease stain above her lip and smelled better than any mechanic he’d ever met. He swiped his thumb across the dirty mark and couldn't help grinning. She had no clue she’d attracted at least a dozen cowboys, and any one of them would’ve loved to ride to her rescue.
“You do know that was the only mechanic within fifty miles who agreed to talk me through the basics and try to help?” She wiggled her skirt down and planted her hands on her hips. "It's my job to keep things running smoothly. You shouldn't be working on the van. It isn't right. I would've figured it out on my own."
“Don’t worry, darlin’. No one will ever know I helped.” He leaned against the car and popped the distributor cap on. “Do you have a screwdriver?”
