by Tabatha Kiss
She finally looks me in the eye, her timid stare partially blocked by her glasses.
I smile. “So...”
A phone rings between us.
“Excuse me,” Paige says as she quickly reaches into the pocket of her jacket. She spins around and places several paces between us before answering. “Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m at the airport...”
I nod to myself.
Ancient history, huh?
Yeah, right.
If that were true, then Paige should be able to look me in the eye.
I can’t work with this cloud over us like this. She said there was no reason to bring it up again, but if this is the way it’s going to be for the next two weeks, then I think that’s more than enough reason to clear the air.
I’ll just have to do it somewhere she can’t easily run away.
“Flight number 352 to Chicago is now boarding.”
I check my jacket pocket for the thousandth time to confirm my boarding pass is there while others rise out of their chairs. Paige slowly begins making her way toward the line. I follow behind her, keeping several feet of bubble between us.
“Okay, Mom. We’re boarding,” I hear her say. “We’re boarding. I gotta go, Mom. ... Mom.”
I chuckle. They must be close.
“Okay, bye.” She hangs up with a loud scoff and twists around to drop her phone into her carry-on instead. She catches sight of me standing behind her and her lips twitch in acknowledgment. “That was my mom,” she says.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask.
“She calls a lot.”
“She must love you very much.”
“Doesn’t everybody’s?” she says with a shrug.
I don’t answer. She steps forward and hands her boarding pass to the employee. They give her a nod and she continues forward, swaying those tight hips as she beelines through the tunnel.
I hand off my boarding pass and take several deep breaths, willing for time to stretch for as long as possible before I absolutely have to get on this plane.
They hand my ticket back to me and I force myself forward. Before I reach the plane, I hear an excited squeal just ahead of me. One of the flight attendants greets Paige by name with a cheerful grin and she does the same, showing a wide, friendly smile. I’ve seen that smile so many times before just working around each other at the hotel.
She gave it to me once. It’d be nice to see it again over the next two weeks, but if last night is any sign... it’s not likely.
Paige finds our seats in first class near the front of the plane. I stow away my carry-on in the above compartment and I extend my hands for hers.
“I’ll get that for you,” I offer.
She hesitates, but only for a second, before giving me the bag. “Thanks,” she says with a bow as she takes her seat by the aisle.
I pause, nervously eying the open window by my seat. “Can I have the aisle seat?” I ask her.
Paige looks at the window with interest. “You don’t like the window?” she asks.
“Not particularly, no.”
She considers for a moment. “Well, if you really don’t want it...”
“I don’t want it.”
She hops up and settles into the window seat instead, looking pleased.
Good.
Might as well build up as many points as possible before doing what I’m about to do.
By the time I sit down, Paige has a file open on the tray table in front of her, along with a daily planner and several pens of various colors.
“I booked our rooms in Chicago,” she says as other passengers pile onto the plane. “We’re under the Bennett Party.”
“Rooms?” I ask.
“Yes, rooms. You thought we’d share?”
“... No.”
“Once we’re checked-in, we’ll get started. Chicago’s a big location, but if all goes well, we can be out of there tomorrow afternoon and get to New York, which will take days. Usually three since the restaurant alone takes an entire day, but we’ll worry about that when we get there.”
“Which rooms?”
She glances up. “Excuse me?” she asks, confused.
“Which rooms did you book?”
“Oh, just basic suites. They don’t know it’s us, so they’ll upgrade them once we get there.”
“201,” I say.
Again, she looks at me. “201?”
“Yeah, I want room 201.”
Her lips purse in thought as her brow furrows slightly.
“I like to be near the lobby,” I say, hoping that’s enough to quell her curiosity.
“Okay.” Paige scribbles a note on one of her pads. “201 it is, then.”
“Feel free to take that upgrade, though.” I look at the console above our heads. Air conditioning nobs. Call buttons. Fasten seatbelt signs. “No reason you shouldn’t.”
“All right,” she says, briefly clearing her throat. “Anyway, Graham usually likes to dive behind the front desk first while I head down to housekeeping to start random suite checks.” She pauses with a wave of the hand. “But it’s your call. However you want to do it. You’re the boss here.”
I nod. “That sounds good to me.”
“I’ll sit down tonight and confirm the rest of our flights for the week. After New York, it’s just a quickie to Boston and there we’ll stay until Monday. Then, we finish with Miami and Denver but, again, we’ll worry about those when we get there…”
I cringe inside, but I say nothing. Five locations. Six flights between here and home...
Best not to think about it.
A flight attendant appears beside us in the aisle. “Is there anything I can get you two before we take off?” he asks.
Paige looks up. “Just a bottle of water for me. Thank you.”
“I’ll take the same,” I blurt.
He smiles and nods as he walks off. Another flight attendant closes the door at the front of the plane. Only a few minutes left until take-off. I look up at the console again and wait as the plane rumbles. Our attendant returns with two small bottles of water and little plastic cups filled with ice. He sets them down and walks away as quickly as he appeared.
The console dings above as the pilot turns on the fasten seatbelts sign.
Paige notices and quickly reaches for her belt.
She clicks it closed.
She secures it down.
Gotcha.
“So, we had sex,” I say.
Paige gasps, her big eyes opening wide as she looks around. “Oliver—”
“It was nice. We had a great time.”
She reaches for her seatbelt, but sighs when she realizes she’s trapped. “We said we would not talk about it!” she whispers with bite.
“No, you said we would not talk about it. I tentatively agreed, but if the next two weeks are going to be anything like the last twenty minutes, I’d like to revisit that discussion. Especially now that you can’t get up and walk away from me.”
Her face screws up in frustration. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she says. “Except for the fact that the Botsford Corp employee manual has some very clear rules against... what we did.”
“You mean sex?”
Paige cringes again. “Yes.”
I laugh, but my joy is cut short as the plane lurches forward, taking my stomach lining along with it. “There’s nothing in the manual you need to worry about, Paige,” I say. “Neither of us were in positions of authority over the other. I didn’t answer to you. You didn’t answer to me.”
“I do now,” she points out.
“Right. You do now. But no one’s getting retroactively fired for something that happened four years ago, so can you please stop being so weird about it?”
“I am not being weird.”
“Are you always this hostile around people who have seen you naked?” I ask. “Or just me?”
Her jaw drops. The plane lurches forward on the runway. I grip my armrests, my smile once again slapped right back down.
&n
bsp; “Look, Paige...” I take a breath. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s why I want to clear the air and start fresh,” I say, thinking fast for the right words. “I admire you and the work you do. That’s why I agreed when Graham offered to let me borrow you on this trip.”
“Borrow me?”
“You know what I mean.”
The plane rises off the ground and my gut lurches, but I keep talking, embracing the adorable distraction sitting beside me.
“This is my dream job,” I say. “I’ve wanted it since I learned of its existence when I was a fifteen-year-old dishwasher in the hotel restaurant. I’m not going to screw it up. I saw an opportunity to learn from the best and I took it, even though I knew it’d be awkward.” I look her in the eye, selling the little white lie. “So, can you and I just acknowledge the past, give it a wink, and move on? Please?”
Paige exhales slowly. “Yes,” she answers calmly as the plane shifts in the air. “Yes, we can do that.”
I relax my grip on the armrest, but I don’t let go. “Thank you.”
We sit quietly. I keep my eyes forward, refusing to even glance out the open window next to Paige’s head.
“You never returned my calls,” I say.
Paige looks over. “I thought we were moving on,” she says.
“We will. I called you. You ghosted me. Why?”
“I didn’t ghost you.”
“Why didn’t you call?” I ask calmly.
“Because I didn’t. Okay? Can we wink now?”
I stare forward in silence, giving it a sincere attempt, but…
“Just seems like you would have at least texted…” I mutter.
Paige deflates. “Oliver.”
“I mean, we had a good time.”
“Oliver.”
“A real good time…”
“I’m moving on now,” she says, her voice full of finality.
“Oh, don’t stop, Oli,” I say with a high-pitched moan. “Never stop fu—”
“Okay, fine—!” Paige’s face turns a bright red as she spins in my direction. “We had a good time. Now would you please keep it down?” she whispers.
“Said the guests in the suite next door,” I quip.
“It was one night,” she says. “One night of loud, rambunctious lovemaking, and I see no reason we should dwell on that any further.”
“Wait, lovemaking?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“Just say sex, Paige.”
She stiffens. “No.”
I squint. “Say sex.”
“No.”
I lean closer to her. “Sex.”
She flinches. “Stop it.”
I chuckle as I sit back. Well, that’s cute.
“I don’t date hotel employees,” she says. “The morning after we…”
“Made sweet love.”
“I had a moment of clarity,” she says, swallowing hard. “So, yes. I ghosted you, and I apologize for that. I moved on when I should have said something. What happened between us that night was a random blip. Nothing more. It was just some…” she lowers her voice to the faintest of whispers, “good sex.”
“Great sex,” I say.
“Okay sex.”
I frown. “You downgraded?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re annoying me.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
After a moment, she smiles. It’s not the bright, friendly smile I crave, but it’ll do for now. “I’m sorry if I’ve been hostile,” she says. “I don’t mean to be. This whole thing just took me by surprise, is all.”
The plane slowly levels off and I take a deep breath to relax. I release my grip on the armrest, flexing my stiff fingers once before extending my hand toward her.
“Friends?” I ask.
She shakes my hand. “Professional friends,” she says.
We let go, and Paige looks forward at the paperwork in front of her.
I lean toward her an inch. I just can’t help myself. “It was great, though, right?” I whisper.
She frowns and rolls her eyes behind her glasses.
Oh, yeah.
It was.
Chapter 7
Paige
Professional friends.
Friends of a professional nature.
As our cab arrives at Botsford Plaza Chicago, I wonder how plausible that really is. Oliver seems to have dropped the subject entirely, but I can’t not feel his eyes on me. I keep telling myself it’s fine. Looking is fine. There’s no rule against looking. It’s the touching part that gets people in trouble and I would very much like to keep my job, so...
Lookie, no touchie.
The cab stops at the front entrance to the Plaza. Oliver immediately hops out on his side, and I do the same as the doorman rushes around to open my door.
“Hey, Paige,” he greets me, bowing his head.
“Hi, Dean,” I say, quickly picking his name out of my brain’s infinite Rolodex.
He looks at Oliver and nods. “Graham officially gone, then?”
“Yeah, but he’s kicking ass from the top just like always.”
“Right on,” he says with a laugh as he walks toward the trunk. “I’ll get your bags taken upstairs.”
“Thanks. We have a lot to do today.”
I turn and slam into a wide shoulder beside me.
Oliver steps back. “Sorry,” he says.
“It’s okay.” I swallow hard. “So, first thing, you’ll want to meet with Ian and—”
“Count down the safe,” he finishes. “I know.”
“Right. I know that you know. I just...” I pause, still far too close to those blue eyes for comfort. “Well, I’ll head down to housekeeping, then.”
“All right. We’ll hook up later.”
I frown.
“We’ll meet up later,” he says.
I nod and take a wide step around him to enter the hotel. The Chicago location, while not the largest in the country, is always busy. Guests pack the lobby, coming and going from the golden elevators. The restaurant also appears at full capacity, which is what we like to see nowadays.
There was a time, back when the previous manager ran things, when this wasn’t the case.
Drake Botsford, Kingston’s brother, was lazy and sloppy with the place. He was forced out eventually, though Drake remains semi-involved with the company as a shareholder. He left his old haunting grounds in the accomplished hands of his oldest son, Ian.
While his father was lazy and sloppy, Ian is not. He’s driven and focused.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite guest.”
And a total creep.
Ian Botsford stands by the front desk with his hands in his pockets and a shit-eating grin on his bearded face. I force a stiff smile and pretend to check my clipboard to look busy — not that I expect it to work.
It never does.
“Hello, Ian,” I say.
He walks over to me. The golden lights above make his dark hair shine a bright brown, and his eyes twinkle with a little sinister delight.
“I didn’t know you were coming today,” he says, putting a little too much emphasis on the word coming.
“It’s an audit,” I say. “Not knowing when we’re going to be here is kind of the idea.”
He glances over my shoulder. “No Graham this time,” he says.
“Just me and Mr. Black.”
“So, I see...”
He smiles, briefly biting his lip.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, I should go get started.”
Ian sidles to the left. “Please do,” he says, his endless smirk curling upward.
I hurry to get as far away from him as possible. My skin doesn’t stop crawling until I reach the elevator. The doors open automatically and I shift to the side to let everyone off first before boarding.
I step in, turn around, an
d spot Oliver in the lobby with Ian. They shake hands and greet each other like old pals.
My gut churns as I slap the button for sub-level 2.
Eight suite checks down. Four to go.
I slide my master keycard through the slot on the door to room 1903. The light flashes green and I step inside, eager to finish the last few rooms so I can move on to more pertinent inspections. Luckily, the housekeeping team here in Chicago rivals the one in Las Vegas, meaning I rarely have to dock them for anything. Lauren is as militant with her staff here as Faye is over there.
I run a finger along the headboard of the bed, the top of the dresser, the corners of the television, etc. Barely even a speck of dust. I check it off my list and twist toward the bed. With one yank, I pull the comforter loose. It fights me, tucked in as tightly as possible.
Good.
That’s what I look for.
I pull it the rest of the way down to find the top sheet folded beneath just as tightly and wickedly straight. Not one wrinkle.
Damn, I love the Chicago staff. I guess even creeps like Ian know how to run things.
I check it off my list and move on to the bedside table.
The electronic lock beeps behind me. The door opens as I turn around, and my breath hitches as Oliver steps inside.
“Hey,” he says with a nod.
“Hi,” I say, turning back to my work. “I thought you were checking the lobby.”
“I did.”
“Already?”
“Checked with Barry in security, too. That’s done.” He glances around the half-finished room. “Need some help?”
I inhale to say no, but truthfully, the sooner we get these room checks done, the sooner we can get to the lobby where the real work begins.
Gift shop, kitchen, and spa.
Oh, my.
“Sure,” I say instead.
“Done the bathroom yet?”
I flinch at his voice dangerously close to my ear. I didn’t even hear him walk over. “No,” I answer. “Just a dust check and... bed.”
He nods and moves toward the bathroom. I take a deep breath, feeling a rush of heat on my skin as old memories tempt me back. Me and Oliver in a Botsford Plaza suite. Alone. The bed sheets pulled out...
