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Arlis nearly went catatonic whenever Meg talked back to her, and an angry rash exploded on her veiny cheeks. “All I have to do is say one word to Birdie, and you’ll be locked behind bars.”
Maybe, but with the inn filling up for the weekend and a shortage of housekeepers, Arlis couldn’t afford to lose her right now. Still, best not to press it.
When Meg was finally alone, she gazed longingly at the sparkling bathtub. Last night, Arlis had stayed late to check inventory, so Meg hadn’t been able to sneak in a shower, and with the inn booked up, the prospects didn’t look much better for tonight. She reminded herself that she’d spent days on muddy trails without giving a thought to indoor plumbing. But those excursions had been recreational, not her real life, although now that she looked back, it seemed as though recreation had been her real life.
She was struggling to flip the mattress when she sensed someone behind her. She prepared herself for another confrontation with Arlis only to see Ted Beaudine in the doorway.
He leaned against the doorjamb with one shoulder, his ankles crossed, perfectly at home in the kingdom over which he ruled. Sweat glued her mint green polyester maid’s dress to her skin, and she dabbed her forehead against her arm. “My lucky day. A visit from the Chosen One. Cured any lepers lately?”
“Too busy with the loaves and fishes thing.”
He didn’t even smile. Bastard. A couple of times this week as she’d adjusted drapes or wiped off a windowsill with one of the toxic products the inn insisted on using, she’d spotted him outside. City Hall, it turned out, occupied the same building as the police station. This morning, she’d stood in a second-floor window and watched him honest-to-God stop fricking traffic to help an old lady across the street. She’d also noticed a lot of young women entering the building through the side door that led directly to the municipal offices. Maybe on city business. More likely monkey business.
He nodded toward the mattress. “Looks like you could use some help with that?”
She was exhausted, the mattress was heavy, and she swallowed her pride. “Thanks.”
He looked behind him into the hallway. “Nope. Don’t see anybody.”
Letting herself get suckered in gave her the willpower to wedge her shoulder under the bottom corner of the mattress and hoist it. “What do you want?” she grunted.
“Checking up on you. One of my duties as mayor is to make sure our vagrant population isn’t accosting innocent citizens.”
She jammed her shoulder farther under the mattress and retaliated with the rottenest thing she could think of. “Lucy’s been texting me. So far, she hasn’t mentioned you.” Or much of anything, just a sentence or two saying she was all right and she didn’t want to talk. Meg heaved the mattress higher.
“Give her my best,” he said, as casually as if he were referring to a distant cousin.
“You don’t even care where she is, do you?” Meg lifted the mattress another few inches. “Whether she’s all right or not? She could have been kidnapped by terrorists.” Fascinating how easily a basically nice person like herself could turn nasty.
“I’m sure someone would have mentioned it.”
She struggled to catch her breath. “It seems to have escaped your supposedly gigantic brain that I’m not responsible for Lucy ditching you, so why make me your personal punching bag?”
“I have to take out my boundless fury on somebody.” He recrossed his ankles.
“You’re pathetic.” But she’d barely gotten the words out of her mouth when she lost her balance and tumbled over the box spring. The mattress slammed on top of her.
Cool air slithered over the backs of her bare thighs. The skirt of her uniform bunched above her hips, giving him an unrestricted view of her bright yellow panties and possibly the dragon inked on her hip. God had punished her for being rude to his Perfect Creation by turning her into a big Posturepedic sandwich.
She heard his muffled voice. “You all right in there?”
The mattress didn’t move.
She squirmed, trying to work herself free and getting no help. Her skirt crept to her waist. Putting the image of yellow panties and a dragon tattoo out of her head, she vowed not to let him see her defeated by a mattress. Struggling for air, she curled her toes into the carpet and, with one final contortion, pushed the bulky weight onto the floor.
>
Ted gave a low whistle. “Damn, that is one heavy son of a bitch.”
She stood up and shoved her skirt down. “How would you know?”
He let his gaze drift over her legs and smiled. “Educated guess.”
She lunged for the corner of the mattress and somehow managed to gather enough traction to turn the awful thing and pull it back onto the box spring.
“Well done,” he said.
She pushed a spike of hair out of her eyes. “You’re a vindictive, cold-blooded psycho.”
