I jump when I realize there is a tiny woman at my elbow glaring up at me from under the white towel wrapped around her head. Her hands are on her hips, which pulls her robe slightly open in the front. This old gal is not shy.
Sunny speaks up. “I’m sorry, Barbara. Like I said before, I spoke with my boss and he’s offered to reschedule your hot stone massage as well as throw in a lemon honey facial, free of charge.”
Barbara Pruneybottom fires a wrinkly glare at me. She eyeballs my flip flops and shoots daggers at Sunny. “This is leaving a very bad taste in my mouth,” is her parting shot before she shuffles back toward the spa.
Sunny bites her lip and turns to me. “Any other day I would’ve let you grab a shower, free of charge. This is one of our busiest weeks of the year, though. We honestly didn’t have an open room.” Her cringing eyes follow the old lady down the hall.
“Ugh! Kill me now, Sunny!” My old, new friend Mercer appears from the hall behind us, still clad in her muddy hiking boots. “Oh, hey!” She smiles at me and launches into a five minute tirade about being short-handed on her morning hike, and how one of the guests wouldn’t stop “accidentally” running into cacti on their hike, presumably so she'll have a good story to share with her friends back in New York. Troy didn’t show up for the morning hike, so it was only her and Trevor picking cactus needles out of this woman’s jeans.
Yeah, I don’t know who Trevor or Troy are either, but Mercer is good entertainment. Arms flailing, she re-enacts the cactus incidents as well as the painstaking tweezing of cactus needles. By the end of it, Sunny and I are both laughing and Mercer plops with a huff of finality onto one of the big fluffy sofas that line the corridor.
“We need at least three guides with these big groups.” Mercer’s hands are in the praying position, her eyes pleading. “Come on, Sunny.”
Sunny is blushing. “First of all, shhh.” Her panicked glance darts up and down the wide, echoey hall. “And second of all, Joe told me we can’t hire anyone else.”
Mercer groans. “Come on, man! Can we at least fire Troy? He keeps ‘sleeping through his alarm’ every Monday. Total bull honky!”
I quietly grab my bag and edge toward the entrance. Maybe my stolen shower will be forgotten.
“What about her?” Mercer’s loud voice stops me and Sunny’s gaze shoots my way.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you want a gig taking rich, middle-aged ladies on hikes through the desert on days when Troy sleeps in?” She looks at Sunny. “I happen to know she needs a job.”
“Excuse me?” I say with a laugh, but let it slide, given she met me after I crawled out of a van with sleep drool crusted to my face.
Mercer smiles at me. “Just until we get through the busy season. I need another set of hands to help with the tweezers. You won’t have to do anything but hike and carry the first aid kit. Come on, it’s fun.”
I have to laugh at that. “Yeah, you make it sound great.” I contemplate for a few moments and Sunny watches me. I need to stay busy for the next three weeks, and there’s something about Mercer’s happiness that draws me in. It could be fun, hiking through the desert every morning. I shrug. “Maybe. You promise I only need to hike along with you? Nothing too crazy?”
Sunny pipes up. “Whoa, whoa… Mercer. I need to call Joe before you commit us to anything.”
“Joe won’t care. She’ll only fill in when Troy flakes out, anyway. No biggie.”
I think of the warm shower I just enjoyed and a lightning bolt of an idea strikes my brain. “What if we trade showers for hiking? Straight across?”
Sunny mulls it over for a second before a grin lights up her face. “Genius! But you’d have to shower really early or really late, when the spa isn’t open. Like between nine p.m. and ten a.m. Does that work?”
I nod vigorously as she picks up the phone. “Let me run it by Joe.”
While Sunny is on the phone, Mercer fills me in on the details of the job. I’m so happy to have access to a shower and bathroom on my camping trip that nothing registers until she says, “...so all you have to do is show up here at 6:30 in the morning. We’re hiking Molly’s Nipple tomorrow. You should come with us to get your feet wet.”
“Molly’swhat?” I shout-whisper as Sunny hangs up the phone.
“Joe wants to meet you before he agrees to this because—” she slips into a deep manly voice, “This is weird, Sunny.” She laughs and points down the hall. “His office is down there. Come find me when you’re all done.”
“Yay!” Mercer’s ponytail bobs as she pumps her fists. “I’ll take you to his office.”
We walk down the corridor to the opposite side of the building from the spa, in a hallway lined with offices. I don’t love the idea of meeting my new boss—even a temporary boss—in yoga pants and with my hair dripping down my back, but Mercer knocks on the door before I can think twice about it. A deep voice calls us in, and she pushes me through the door.
“Hey Joe. This is my friend—” she laughs and looks at me. I’ve never given her my name.
“Indigo.” I finally get a look at him and my breath catches.Hello, tall, dark, drink of water in the desert.
Joe, better known as the Greek god who saved me from dying alone in a desert wasteland last night, fumbles over some papers at the sight of me and stands from his desk, extending a hand. “I’m, um…” His expression is a combination of surprise and that crooked smirk I had become acquainted with last night. He shakes his head like he’s resetting something in his brain. “I’m Joe Pratt. Hello.” His smile is knock-you-on-your-butt perfect.
And I’m pretty sure my frozen expression says, “Hello again, chiseled chin and chocolate brown eyes I dreamed about all night.”
