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There’s only one hotel in town worth staying in, and that’s the Heart’s Cove Hotel. It’s run by two elderly ladies, the twins Dorothy and Margaret. They’re probably not at the hotel right now, but I’m sure whoever’s manning the front desk will be able to help me.
Unfortunately, my phone’s touch screen is having a hard time registering my wet fingertips. I growl in frustration, poking at my phone, then finally give up and use a voice command. “Call Margaret.”
“Mia, wait.” Desmond takes a step toward me, sloshing through the water from the geyser he created, and stops when I lift my hand.
“Don’t come close to me. You’ve done enough damage.”
“Hello?” Margaret’s voice sounds strangely echoey over the speakerphone. “Mia, is that you?”
“Hi, Margaret. I’m sorry to call you so late.”
“What’s wrong, dear?” There’s a shuffling sound and a man’s voice. Then Margaret says, obviously to Hamish, her partner, “It’s Mia. I don’t know why she’s calling. Let me ask her.” More shuffling. “What’s going on, honey?”
“There’s been…an incident…at my house,” I say, glancing at the manmade lake both Desmond and I are standing in. “Water damage. I need somewhere for Bailey and me to stay tonight.”
Desmond plucks the phone from my fingers before I can even squeak in outrage. “Margaret, it’s Des.”
Margaret’s voice warms. “Oh, Des! I’m glad you’re there. I just spoke to your grandmother this morning and she said you were settling into town just wonderfully. Is everything okay? I can call up the hotel and reserve a room if—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Desmond growls. “One of my grandparents’ condos is available on Seventh Avenue. I’ll put Mia and Bailey in there until we get the water damage fixed.”
“Oh, you’re a dear,” Margaret croons, and I wonder if she and I know the same Desmond Thomas. I would never, ever, not in a million years, call him “a dear.” “I’ll still call the hotel to warn them, and if Mia needs a place, we can put her in one of the cabanas out back. I think the one Candice stayed in is free, and we’ve just renovated all the bathrooms.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Desmond says, and his voice loses the edge of tension it usually has with me. “It’s really not necessary. I can take the girls over to the condo tonight. It’s furnished, and it has two bedrooms.”
Excuse me—“the girls?” Did he just call me and Bailey “the girls?” Are you freaking kidding me? Since when does he have the right to refer to us like that? That sounds…it sounds…intimate. Like the three of us belong together. Like he has some sort of ownership over us.
I donotlike that. Not one bit.
Margaret doesn’t seem to notice, though. She just says, “All right. I’m glad you were there to sort things out. Ta-ta!”
The call ends, and I snatch my phone back. “You had no right to butt in. I’m taking Bailey somewhere safe, and you can’t do anything about it.”
Desmond’s face gains a neutral expression. “Legally, I have to provide you with livable accommodation, but you’re free to refuse it. Since we have the condo on Seventh Avenue available, if you decide not to stay there, you’ll be out of pocket for the hotel room.”
My throat burns. I clench my phone in my hand and I think it might be to stop myself from punching that solid chest of his. Once again—just like when he raised my rent—Desmond is using money to try to push me around.
The worst part is, I think I might have to accept. I can’t afford a hotel room, and I have nowhere else to go. I could probably call Georgia, my new friend and neighbor, but we barely know each other. She’s glamorous and beautiful and I’m too proud to show up at her doorstep like a bedraggled beggar-woman.
Desmond is offering me a two-bedroom residence, free of charge, until my own place is fixed. It would be stupid and irresponsible of me to refuse.
“Fine,” I sneer at him. “Text me the address, and I’ll let you know when we’re on our way.”
“I can drive you.”
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have my car with me, would I?” I sound snippy and awful, but I can’t help it.
Desmond’s jaw tics. His shirt still clings to every carved inch of him, his pants drenched so they look almost black. A droplet of water runs down his bicep and onto his forearm. He would be sexy if he weren’t such a dick.
I widen my eyes. “Goodbye, now. Thanks for nothing.”
My landlord has the audacity to grin. It’s devastating. Men shouldn’t be allowed to be that attractive and that dickish at the same time.Ugh!
It’s not until the door closes behind him that I take a full breath, gather myself together, and go check on my daughter.
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