Page 24 of Slumming It
He just looked at me.
And now I felt stupid. "Your cologne," I explained. "It smells all woodsy."
"I’m notwearingcologne."
"So…." I gave a silent sniff. "Aftershave then?"
"No."
I turned and looked toward the bathroom. "Then it must be your soap."Whatever it was, it smelled divine. In action, it probably looked even better with all of those suds sliding down his bare, wet chest.
And lower.
Oh, boy.
Was it warm in here?
His voice – cold and clipped – snapped me out of it. "Yeah. Soap. You ever hear of it?"
I whirled to face him.Jerk."Yes. Idoknow about hygiene."
He put his hands in his pockets and studied me like an exterminator might study a cockroach. "If that's your pitch, it's sorely lacking."
My teeth were grinding now.Oh, I'd like to pitch him, alright. Still,I took a deep calming breath as I brushed aside his latest insult. "I’m just saying, you don't know this town. ButIdo. No one will tell you the things I'll tell you."
Of course, this was a massive understatement, considering my plans, which were still evolving in the back of my head.
If he thought the town was built over an old, secret cemetery, would that do the trick?
Not hardly.
Even with a newer cemetery, a guy like him would probably just move the headstones and call it good.Our deceased loved ones, be damned.And besides, it’s not likeheplanned to live here.
Somewhere outside, the lawn mower started up again, making me look toward the window even though the shades were fully drawn.
Normally, it would bemeout there mowing the lawn, but I’d traded this week’s lawn duties for three loads of laundry and half an apple pie.
When I looked back to Reese Murdock, his expression had changed. It was no longer suspicious, but calculating, like he was playing a secret game of his own.
Finally, he gave a slow nod. "Deal."
Holy crap."Seriously?"
"Don’t make me reconsider."
My mind churned with the implications, and I tried to think.What would a normal person ask?"So, um…what's the pay?"
"Low."
If he was trying to scare me, he shouldn't have bothered. Already, I was juggling two jobs – a part-time waitressing gig and my work here at the hotel. My waitressing tips were nothing to brag about, and my hotel duties paid zilch except for a share of the daily profits, which gave low a whole new meaning.
Still, I would need to earnsomethingto pay for my replacement. Reluctantly, I asked,"Howlow?"
"You'll get my offer tomorrow along with a nondisclosure."
I shook my head. "A what?"
"A nondisclosure," he repeated. "You claim you're discreet, but you'll need to sign for it." His expression darkened. "I don't take chances."
