to create.
I also discovered how incredibly, horribly, horrendously unskilled I was.
Still fun, though.
_______________
Two Weeks Later
Geared up in a pretty pink halter bikini, my flip-flops, a ton of sunblock, and a floppy hat, I hefted my tote up my shoulder.
Since my period was finally done, it was time to hit the pool. To be fair, thanks to Ms. Vera’s recommendation I start the pill, it had been the best—or maybe least bad—one I’d ever had. However, I’d still spent nearly a week on the couch with the heating pad.
I was ready to swim until my muscles ached before sitting in the hot tub until I turned to goo.
I knocked on my door and backed up.
“Yeah?” Marco called from the hallway.
“Swim time!”
“Okay,” he said, but the door remained closed.
I waited a couple seconds longer before asking, “Can you open the door?”
“Open it yourself.”
Shit, what’d I do to piss him off?
Marco may not have been as friendly as Cole or Ash, but it’d been a while since he’d been a jerk to me.
“Please, can you open the door?” I tried.
“Open it yourself,” he repeated.
“I’m just trying to go swimming.”
“Juliet.” And that’s when I heard it—a hint of amusement. “Open it yourself.”
My heart kicked into overdrive, hammering in my chest.
I’d already lost the men tailing me like prison guards. They weren’t even stationed outside my door. I was on my own, free to go anywhere but the off-limit rooms. But in order to take advantage of that freedom, I first needed to be let out.
Permanently unlocking my door would be major.
My breath froze in my lungs as I reached for the handle. It whooshed out in a weird squeal when I easily pulled the door open.
Marco was standing outside my door. “Took you long enough.”
“It’s unlocked now?”
He lifted his chin.
“Like, from now on?” I asked.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
I watched him storm down the hall, put his thumb to a lock, and head into the room.
He’s all bark and… okay, he’s probably all bite, too. But it’s not aimed at me anymore, so whatever.
Hiking my tote up my arm, I hightailed it to the pool and hot tub.
I was total goo by the time I returned to my unlocked room.
Maximo
Three Weeks Later
“Get this area cleaned up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Walking slowly through the kitchen at Moonlight’s buffet, I checked every corner and crevice. My chefs and staff didn’t mind the health department’s inspection, but they loathed mine. I was a hardass when it came to cleanliness, order, and image.
Heading out of the restaurant, I knew the other kitchens would be spotless by the time I made it to them. Whoever I hit first tipped the rest off. I didn’t give a damn so long as the job was done.
“Maximo.” Serrano jogged over to catch up to me. “How bad was it?”
“Some clutter and spills. Not bad.”
“Did you put the fear of God in them anyway?”
“No, I put the fear of me in them.”
He chuckled. “How’re things for Friday?”
“Georgie says it’s going smooth,” I said, referring to Star’s Tournament Director. “Rooms are ready, tables will be set up Thursday night, kitchen and bar orders have been adjusted for the influx. Registration is already full.”
The poker tournaments tended to be easy. A few bickering fights, a few accusations of cheating, and a few small-town big shots who thought they deserved the VIP treatment. Other than that, people played cards, collected their winnings, and then hit up the tables and slots for the fun of gambling rather than the competition.
My cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text from Cole.
Cole: She wants a keyboard. A musical one, not the computer kind, so I’m no help.
I couldn’t hold back the small smile that tipped my lips.
Juliet liked to create.
She’d crocheted—badly, according to the men. Her knitting had been even worse. Coloring books had been a mild success, though the bar had been set low.
Despite her lack of ability, she had fun. Which meant I’d give her whatever the hell she wanted.
Me: Then get her one.
Cole: Given her track record, I’m getting the kind that hooks to her headphones. Because if she’s badly bopping some Backstreet Boys shit, I’m off guard duty.
Me: Unless she’s time traveling back to the late nineties, I think you’re safe.
Cole: What?
Me: Backstreet Boys are on the oldies stations now.
Cole: Shit.
I pocketed my phone and turned back to Serrano. “Call me if anything comes up, otherwise I’ll see you this weekend.”
I walked through the other restaurants and the food court in Moonlight.
And just as