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“Fun, huh? Have cleaning and fun ever been used in the same sentence? I’m gonna need examples.”
I got this. “The most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life was when I cleaned rooms with Slade Sheridan at his bed-and-breakfast.” I rock back on my heels, feeling proud.
He looks down at the floor, hiding a smile. “All right. Just this once. Thank you. I appreciate the help, I really do.”
He appears relieved. I’m glad I can remove some of the weight from his shoulders. Pay back his kindness.
chapter fifteen
FIRST, WE WIPEdown all the tables in the dining room, mop the floors, and vacuum the rugs.
We head upstairs and Slade unlocks the maintenance closet. Inside is the usual rolling cart a housekeeper uses at any other hotel. Slade restocks it, and I try to help instead of getting in the way.
We move to the first door and knock. Slade announces, “Housekeeping.” No one responds, and there’s not an “I’m Definitely in Here But Don’t Want You to Know That” sign on the door, so we enter.
I’m a little shocked at the state of the room. Wet towels are thrown on the carpet, take-out containers litter the small dining table and nightstands, and the bed looks like a tiger slept in it. The room is screaming, “Help me, I’m out of control!” At least, that’s what chaos says to me.
“Seriously? Is it always this bad?” I blurt out.
Slade grimaces. “More often than not.”
“Wow.”
“When people are on vacation, they also want a vacation from cleaning up after themselves. It’s part of the business. Everyone secretly wants to be a slob in the deepest recesses of their hearts.” Slade shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
I scowl at the sight. “When I’m on vacation, I can still walk two feet to place my trash in the garbage can. Sheesh. These people are disgusting.”
“You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re upset.”
I realize Slade is standing still, watching me inspect the room. I stop pacing and face him. “I…uh…well…”Say something, Marin.My mind is blank. I’ve got nothing.
“You’re even cuter when you’re flustered.” Slade’s eyes are glued to mine.
“What? I’m not flustered. Why would I be flustered?” I hold his gaze as though we’re in a staring contest I refuse to lose.
He approaches until we’re face to face. “Because the room’s a mess. Why else would you be flustered?”
“No reason.” I swipe the hair out of my eyes. My face feels burning hot.
I. Am. So. Flustered. I’ll never admit it, though. I’m also very aware that we’re in a guest room by ourselves with the door firmly shut, standing face to face with our eyes deadlocked.
Slade’s looking at me like he knows something I don’t. Like he’s waiting for me to catch on.
“W-what? Why are you looking at me like that?” Great, now I’m stuttering.
When I meet a man I’m interested in, I often wonder what their passionate side looks like. Are they intense and fiery? Are they soft and gentle? Are they hard and fast? Are they slow and tender? It’s always a mystery I look forward to solving. Blu was soft and gentle. Nothing was burning inside of him. Not even a flicker of a matchstick. I told myself his softness was sweet. Now I wonder if it was simply indifference.
Slade is a different story. He’s a house on fire. I can feel it without him even touching me. Heat emanates from him and soaks into my skin. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. He flusters me to my core.
“Just wanted you to know you look beautiful today. Someone needs to tell you, if only to wipe the sadness from your eyes. I can’t stand seeing it there all the time. The blue man is an idiot. You need to hear it. He was a fool to let you go. I hope you know that.”
When it comes to Slade, expect the unexpected. Noted. “I…I’m not thinking about Blu anymore.”
“Good. He doesn’t deserve you. Physically or mentally.”
I want to say, “I’m thinking about you now,” but the words stick in my throat.
Slade breaks our eye contact and holds out his fist for a fist bump. “Let’s do this.” He turns and grabs the vacuum as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
