Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“No vacancy,” I told him with a self-satisfied grin, despite the inn being practically empty this week. “And get the hell off my property.”
5
James
I couldn’t remember a time I’d been this turned on by someone yelling at me.
As Sawyer’s muscular legs ate up the asphalt between the flooded motel room and his jeep, I couldn’t help but stare at the way his wet shorts were plastered to his tight ass. With every step he took, the side of his ass cheeks flexed. My eyeballs might as well have been superglued to his butt.
“That boy was blessed in the booty department, mm-hm.”
I turned and gawped at the short, dark-haired woman standing behind me in the open doorway. I recognized her as the receptionist from earlier this morning. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest as she also stared at Sawyer’s ass.
“Are you sure you don’t have any vacancy?” I asked hopefully, giving her my most beseeching expression.
She seemed impervious to my desperation. “Yep, we’re sure. Full up. This place is impossible to book into this time of year.”
“Seriously?” I gestured toward the mostly empty lot. It was obvious the motel wasn’t booked more than 20 percent capacity, and that was being extraordinarily generous. Sawyer had obviously been messing with me to prove a point. Hopefully this woman would be more welcoming.
She shrugged. “We’re popular with the adventure crowd, so they’re all… off… adventuring right now. Mm-hm. This parking lot… it’s deceptive, you know?”
I squinted around, trying to find any evidence of guests, any at all. “Are you sure—”
Sawyer came storming back over with a giant metal wrench in his hands and a scowl on his face. “Leave,” he said, pushing past me into the still-flooding room. “You’re not welcome here.” He pointed the wrench at me and shook it. “Go back to New York and tell your client to fuck off.”
I bit my tongue to keep from grinning at him like a fool. He was way too handsome to be taken seriously as a curmudgeon. Sawyer’s skin was already tan from the early summer sun, and his dirty-blond hair sported lighter bits on the tips that I could see more clearly in the daylight now he was no longer sporting a ball cap. If he wasn’t so busy glowering at me, he’d look like a laid-back California surfer dude. But it was clear to me he had way more worry on his shoulders than I’d first realized.
“I’m not going back to the city until I finish gathering the information I need here,” I said. “But it can wait. I’ll get out of your hair while you deal with this.” I glanced at the disaster the flooding had made of the room. “Do you want me to call someone? Your uncle, or…?”
The receptionist flapped her hand and rolled her eyes. “That asshole? Not likely.” Then she tilted her head, giving me an obvious once-over. “But I’ll tell you what you can do.” She pointed at the luggage cart full of bags and, for some odd reason, several different flower arrangements. “Be a doll and take that over to room 202, won’t you?”
She sauntered off without waiting for an answer. I glanced back toward Sawyer, wondering if she’d been serious. But he was already back in the bathroom, cursing up a storm as he banged away at the leaking pipe.
Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed the luggage cart and began pushing it across the empty parking lot. One of the wheels was twisted, and the frame itself seemed to be held together with rust and hope, making the whole thing wobble and creak and clatter in an embarrassingly obnoxious racket. My hands were numb from the jostling by the time I reached room 202 and knocked on the door.
I waited, but there was no answer. I knocked again just before the door swung open to reveal an older man wearing nothing but a towel. The few strands of hair on his head were mussed into a nest of downy knots. Behind him I caught sight of sheets strewn across the floor and a pillow lodged in one of the lampshades. A vase of fat sunflowers was tipped precariously on the edge of the bedside table.
I immediately dropped my eyes, trying desperately not to see more than I already had.
“Luggage’s here,” the man called over his shoulder.
“Tell him to leave it, and you get your sexy tush back to bed!” an older woman’s voice called.
My cheeks blazed even hotter.
The man grinned at me and waggled his bushy eyebrows. “You heard what the lady said.” Then he seemed to remember something. “Oh wait, a tip.” He patted at his hips as though looking for his wallet and forgetting he wasn’t wearing pants. The motion jostled the towel, and it slipped dangerously low.