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Shelby
Shelby Leigh was excited to begin her new job at the little boutique hotel that had just opened up in Paris. She planned to work her way up to be the hotel’s concierge, but for now, she was just happy to be employed as a maid.
She had taken off from work most of last year, to take care of her dying mother. After her mother passed, she took a few months to sell her mom’s place and mourn her loss before deciding to take the plunge and move to Paris, finally following her dream of working as a concierge over there. When she got there though, she found that the hotel’s job description wasn’t completely on the up and up, and when the manager told her that she had applied to be a maid, not a concierge, she wanted to tell him to shove the job up his ass. Shelby was at his mercy though—out of money and options. She was basically stuck in Paris and that wasn’t such a hardship. She could be stuck back in the states and at least in France, she had a whole new culture to explore.
She worried that she wouldn’t fit in as one of the hotel’s only American employees, but she did and God, she loved being surrounded by not only the French people but the rich history and culture. It was truly a dream, well, except the part where she had to clean hotel rooms and scrub toilets. That part she could live without.
Shelby had a whole day off tomorrow, and a city to explore. One of the perks of her job was that she had a room and board paid for by the hotel. She got to stay in one of the beautiful rooms and order anything she wanted from the dining room, so that was a major perk of her new position. She was going to stay in for the night, order room service, and catch up on her sleep. Then, tomorrow, she’d hit the town to explore her new city.
Shelby was waiting for her food to arrive when she heard a commotion just outside her door. She pulled it open to find two of the sexiest men she’d ever seen in her life, about to beat the shit out of each other.
“Pardon,” the one man said. He started to speak to her in French and she held up her hand, giving him back the only phrase she knew in the foreign language.
“Je ne parle pas François,” she said.
“Do you speak English?” the guy who was pinned up against the wall asked. Just seconds ago, the two looked about ready to kill each other and now, they were having a normal conversation with her. The whole scene almost made her want to giggle.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m American.”
“We are too.” They released each other to straighten up as if caught by the headmistress to be doing something wrong. “I’m Declan Gunderson,” the first guy said, holding out his hand to her. His dark hair dipped over his blue eyes, and she took his hand, not able to stop looking at him. God, he was just her type, seeming to have the whole dark, brooding stereotype down pat.
The other guy took her hand into his own and pulled it up to his lips, gently kissing the back of hers. Oh—this one was a charmer, and she had a feeling he’d be a whole lot of trouble if given half the chance. “I’m Tanner Rose,” he said. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss—”
“Shelby Leigh,” she said. They were each still holding one of her hands in their own and she looked between them as if they had lost their collective minds. “Um, were the two of you just fighting out here?” she asked.
“I’m embarrassed to say that we were,” Declan said. He let go of her hand and shoved his blond counterpart away from her. “My best friend can’t seem to get his act together and I was just reminding him who’s in charge.” Tanner shoved Declan back and she was worried that the whole thing would lead to another altercation that she didn’t have the time nor desire to be a part of.
“Boys,” she shouted, stepping between the two of them. “I’m not sure that the hotel’s management would approve of the two of you breaking out into a fistfight in the middle of the hallway. How about you try using your words and tell me what it is that you both seem desperate to be in charge of,” she ordered. Her mother used to tell her that she was the bossiest girl she’d ever known, and right now, her southern side was showing.
“What part of the South are you from, Shelby?” Declan asked, picking up on her southern twang that came out when she was more than a little pissed.
She put her hands on her hips and he smiled at her. “Georgia,” she said. “Now, how about you answer my question, Declan?” she asked.
“I like her,” Declan breathed to Tanner.
“Me too,” Tanner admitted.
“While I’m flattered, I’d like to return to my room and wait for my supper to be delivered. I’m waiting for your answers,” she insisted.
“We’re business partners and well, that’s why we’re in Paris. My best friend here has been a little preoccupied lately and hasn’t really been concentrating on business,” Declan said.
“And my friend here has been so focused on business, he’s forgotten to have any fun,” Tanner said.
“Wait—this whole fistfight was over who was having too much fun and who wasn’t having any?” she asked. “Of all of the ridiculous things to fight over,” she said more to herself than to them.
“Sorry,” Declan said, his smirk firmly in place.
“See,” she mumbled, pointing at him, “I don’t think that you mean it, Declan. And I don’t have the energy to stand here and discuss this any longer. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, turning to go back into her room.
Tanner pulled his key card from his pocket and opened his door. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again, Shelby,” he promised. “I’m right across the hall here,” he said.
“And I’m right next to you,” Declan said, pointing to his room.
“Great,” she said, in her best sarcastic tone.
“I think it is,” Tanner agreed.
“I think that Shelby was being sarcastic,” Declan chided.
