Page 13 of You Complicate Me

Okay, she told herself. Don’t be shallow. So he looks like a deranged mountain man from Deliverance. He might be a perfectly nice guy. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I just need a couple of rooms for the night,” she said.

His gaze fell to her breasts and he licked his lips.

Grace crossed her arms over her chest. So much for the benefit of the doubt.

“Well, now, that can be arranged, little lady.” He held out his hand. “I’m Cletus.”

She blinked. First of all, no way was she touching this guy. Second of all…Cletus? Really? As in the slack-jawed yokel?

Grace held up her hands. “Oh, sorry,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been fighting off a cold. I wouldn’t want to give you my germs.”

His gaze lowered again as he stared at her chest with so much intensity she assumed he was trying to pop her buttons with nothing more than the power of his mind. “I got just the thing to make you feel good again,” he said.

And she’d just bet it wasn’t a cup of herbal tea. Eeewww. It was always times like these Grace wished she would’ve stuck with her Krav Maga class instead of dropping out when she fell and broke her tailbone.

Cletus shoved an old-fashioned register across the desk toward her. “Go ahead and sign in.”

Grace signed her name illegibly while standing as far away from the book as humanly possible. That’s when she noticed the pegboard on the wall. There were two sets of keys for every vacant room. A gnawing dread settled into the pit of her stomach. This meant she’d have one set of keys to her room.

And Cletus the slack-jawed yokel—and potential serial killer—would have the other.

Oh. Hell. No.

“So,” he said, glancing at the register, then back up at her with a frown, “…beautiful, you said you needed two rooms?”

Her mind raced. What would Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds do?

Oddly enough, that calmed her down. Penelope Garcia wouldn’t panic. She’d use her oversized brain and tech savvy to get her out of trouble.

Well, oversized brain she could manage. But tech savvy? Grace could barely figure out how to email someone a picture from her iPhone. Her assistant handled stuff like that for her. What else would Penelope Garcia do?

Inspiration hit like a frying pan upside the head. It was so obvious! Penelope would let one of her hunky FBI cohorts help her.

“Oh, no,” Grace said, calmly. “You must’ve misunderstood. I only need one room.” She gestured across the street to where Nick was pumping gas, glaring at her. “That’s my boyfriend. He’ll be with me.” She paused meaningfully. “All night.”

So if you were thinking of sneaking into my room tonight, killing me, and wearing my head around like a hat, think again.

“He works for the Department of Homeland Security,” she added. Meaning: he’s armed.

Cletus squinted at Nick, then gave a sad little nod. Obviously he knew when he’d been outclassed. He handed her the key to Room #10 and mumbled something about checkout time the next day before disappearing into the back room, presumably to watch internet porn.

Grace sighed with relief, pretty proud of herself for thinking so quickly in a crisis.

Now all she had to do was spend the night with Nick.

Well, hell.

“So,” Nick said, lugging his bag and Grace’s two bags into their room. “Why are we sharing a room exactly?”

Because no way was Grace planning to jump him, or anything. Nick just wasn’t that lucky.

Grace leaned over and lifted a corner of the mattress, probably looking for bedbugs. He couldn’t say he blamed her. He’d slept in some ungodly hell holes in his day, and the thought of those little blood-sucking bastards even gave him a screaming case of the willies.

And he certainly didn’t mind the view. Grace had a fantastic ass.

She straightened and faced him, blowing a lock of hair off her forehead with a quick puff of air out the corner of her mouth. “Because the night manager looks like every serial killer I ever saw on Criminal Minds.

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