Page 4 of In Spades

For most people, Mondays were the worst. If I had to return to a boring gray cubicle each week, I would have agreed. For me, Mondays signaled a break from all the weekend havoc.

As one of the quieter days at the inn, I wasn’t rushed as I checked on stay-over rooms and turned over checkouts. Sure, I’d still be spent by the end of the day. My lower back would ache and my ankles would throb, but it would be the sort of exhaustion that came after a good day of work.

I glanced at the gold number 328 on the door, then looked at my chart. It was a stay-over room, so I rapped my knuckles on the glossy wood door and said, “Housekeeping!” in a cheerful voice. I waited a moment and then slid the master key into the card reader and unlocked the door.

It was lunchtime, so the guest was most likely in town for a bite.

The key card snapped back into the badge reel against my waist with a click. I let myself inside and took an immediate left into the bathroom.

Trash and towels were the first to go. I tossed the plastic bag into the bin in my cleaning cart and dropped a bath towel and washcloth in the laundry bag. I grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and sprayed everything down. There was no need for a deep scrub until they checked out, but being in a clean space was one of the most relaxing parts of staying at a hotel.

Not that I ever really had that experience. The concept of a vacation wasn’t even a daydream. It was a pipe dream.

Maybe when Zoey turned eighteen…

Hell, I’d be almost forty. God, that was a depressing thought.

I didn’t need a luxurious stay somewhere exotic; I just needed a fucking nap.

I dumped the spray bottles back on the cart and grabbed the caddy I kept filled with coffee pods, tea packets, and mini toiletries. I dropped a new bar of soap and mini shampoo in the bathroom and headed into the bedroom to check on the minibar.

“What the?—”

“Oh!” I shrieked, jumping back like I'd seen a ghost.

A man was sitting at the desk. He yanked a set of noise-canceling headphones off his ears and left them hanging around his neck. He scrubbed his hand down a thin layer of scruff and chuckled. “Sorry, I, uh, I must not have heard you knock.”

Loud music filtered through the headphones into the room. Lucky for him, the fire alarms had flashing lights, because he would have been clueless in a real emergency.

I pressed my hand to my chest and forced a smile as my hummingbird heart rate slowed. “I am so sorry, sir! I can come back if now’s not a convenient time to freshen up your room.”

“No, no, no,” he said, slamming his laptop shut. He pushed himself away from the desk and stood. “It’s probably the universe’s way of telling me I need to take a break.”

Oh my damn.

The guy was tall and lean, wearing jeans that looked soft and worn, and a half-zippered navy pull-over.

Must be necessary since he had the air conditioning cranked to arctic.

His light-brown hair was the sexy kind of messy—as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. The wire-rimmed glasses didn’t hide his gold-flecked hazel eyes.

I took a tentative step back. I hated feeling towered over, and he was a solid foot taller than me. At five-foot-five, I wasn’t small, but I wasn’t exactly eye-to-eye with the rest of the world either.

2

WILLIAM

Adorable. That was my first thought when I noticed the maid standing in my doorway. She looked young, though I couldn’t guess her age.

There was something so innocent about the way her eyes turned to saucers when she rounded the corner and saw me. The way her pink lips parted into an “O.” I couldn’t help but smile as she moved through the room.

She was so damn cute.

“The bedding is fine,” I said, glancing around the room. “Maybe some more coffee if you have any.”

“Wouldn’t want your stay here to be uncaffeinated,” she quipped with a good-natured twinkle in her eye. Rummaging through a plastic-handled box from her cart, she plucked out a few single-serving coffee pods. “Do you drink decaf?”

“Nah, just regular.”

---