with Brazilian Crush on the label looks fun and summery. I slip off my mask and pump it into the air. It smells like salted caramel and pistachio and the beach. Closing my eyes, I lift it over my head and spray it again, stepping through the falling mist so it can cover my body.
After so long being stuck inside in the cold, then being so close to the warm summer beaches of South Carolina, my one regret is not taking a detour and crying my heart out at Myrtle Beach or the Outer Banks or somewhere soothing like that.
Of course, I have no idea where I would’ve stayed in any of those places. I also didn’t know I had so much cash tucked into my coat. JR, what are you doing to me?
Exhaling a sigh, I stand in front of the mirror in my light blue housekeeping uniform. How in the world does he expect me to pay him back? I don’t even know where he is right now. My eyes close, and I see the muscle moving in his square jaw, the emotion in his eyes.
He didn’t want to say goodbye, I have to believe he didn’t.
Even when he did.
If there’s any chance…
I’ll wait for that chance.
I’m struggling with my emotions when a shrill voice yells, “What the hell are you doing?”
Jumping around, I see an older woman with a wide stripe of gray down the center of her jet-black hair scowling at me.
“I was just—” My heart is beating out of my chest.
The television is blasting Schitt’s Creek, the bed is unmade, and I’m standing in the woman’s bathroom holding her body spray, mask off...
I am so fired right now. “I’m sorry!”
“Are you stealing my cosmetics?” Her voice is loud and slightly hysterical.
“No!” I quickly hook my mask over my ear again, moving towards the door with my back to the wall. “I’m sorry. I was just scenting—”
“I’m calling the manager! You were stealing, and I intend to press charges!”
She reaches for my arm, but I spin out the door before she can catch me. We’re in the hotel, so I don’t have a lot of options. I dash down the hall with her standing outside her door still yelling.
“Stop, thief! Manager! Someone call the manager!”
It won’t be hard for them to figure out it was me. There’s only six of us for God’s sake. Running from door to door, I turn the knobs, searching for somewhere to hide, until one of them opens, and I fall inside.
The room is dark, but I don’t go any farther than the entrance. I hold a crack in the door as hotel security runs past, headed in the direction I came.
Ten heavy breaths later, or ten seconds… twenty? It’s quiet. My heart is halfway back to normal, and I decide it’s safe to creep out. My plan is to jump in Metallicar and drive all the way back to our beach shack in San Francisco.
I’ll call Yars and explain it was all a misunderstanding—I’ll be damned if I go to jail over Brazilian body spray.
“Hold it right there.” A sharp male voice from behind makes me squeal and spin around. “Who are you, and why are you in my room?”
A tall man in a tan suit stands over me. I can tell he’s rich because his suit is so smooth, it almost has a sheen, and unlike everybody else these days, his hair is neatly trimmed. He’s very handsome, and very scowley.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” Ducking my chin, I actually do a little bow. Why am I bowing? “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m with housekeeping… I—”
“What is that you’re holding?” His eyes are on the bright yellow-gold plastic bottle in my hand.
I didn’t even realize I still had it. I guess I did steal her toiletries.
Lifting it slowly, I can’t resist. I press the top, sending a clear arc of spray fanning into the room. Even masked, I remember the lovely scent.
“Hm…” He nods, studying my name tag. “That’s nice, Hope. Hope what?”
“Hill, sir.”
His chin lifts, and he turns, as if contemplating what to do with me. “Why are you bursting into my room, Hope Hill?”
“Well, I was… I was just…” Busted watching Netflix and sampling the lady in Room 218’s toiletries—one of which I stole.
“You’re not a professional maid, are you.” It’s not a question.
“No, sir.”
“What is your profession?”
I’m not sure why I feel like I’m on trial before this man, but I do. He has dark