“Hmm. I’ll see you soon, Layla.” With that, he steps around me and walks out of the room.
I stand frozen, my knees locked, and my mind racing. What just happened? My hand goes to my cheek. I can still feel his touch. That man is intoxicating and trouble. Nothing but trouble. Shaking myself out of my Owen trance, I get busy clearing his table.
Owen.
It’s not a name you hear often, and I have to say it suits him. Then again, so does Blue Eyes, but I can’t very well call him that to his face. Something tells me that I’ve not seen the last of him.
“You ready to lock the doors?” Maria asks me.
Turning my wrist to look at my watch, I see it’s past closing time. “Yeah, my last one just left.”
“Oh, honey, I noticed. That was the hottie in VIP. Did you get his number?” she asks.
“No.”
“Why the hell not? How do you know him anyway? He asked for you by name.”
“I don’t. He came in last weekend, and Oliver pawned his table off on me. He’s been here every night since.”
“Has he asked for you every time?”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking about how after that first night, I watch for him to come in. I’ve never been there waiting for him, though. He always has to ask for me.
“He must like what he sees.” She hip checks me and goes to lock the doors.
Reaching into my apron, I pull out his ticket to cash him out. I’m not surprised that he’s left the same generous tip as he has every day this week. It’s too much, and I should give it back to him. I think about how that extra money helped me. It’s wrong to keep taking it. I know that. Starting now, I’m going to give it back to him. I appreciate his generosity, and it’s helped me more than he will ever know, but I can’t keep taking it. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I can’t keep accepting these huge tips. I can hear my bank account crying as I make plans to keep the tip on me in case I see him again so I can give it back.
“You ladies ready to go?” Oliver asks. Ronnie was off tonight, so he’s tasked with taking us to our cars. He sees it as an inconvenience but does it anyway. Secretly, I think he’s afraid of Ronnie. Ronnie doesn’t take his shit, and that scares Mr. Spoiled and Privileged.
“Yes,” Maria and I say at the same time.
Grabbing our bags, we head out to the lot, following behind Oliver. “Have a good night, ladies,” he calls out, throwing his hand in the air for a wave. He doesn’t bother to make sure we’re in our cars, but he never does.
“You on tomorrow?” Maria asks.
“Yes, I’m on the next two days.”
“Bummer. I’ll see you next week.” She climbs in her car and drives away.
Unlocking my car door, I climb inside, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and locking the doors—something Ronnie insisted I do as soon as I get inside. Key in the ignition, I turn it, and nothing happens. I try again and still nothing.
“Shit.” I slam my hands against the steering wheel. “Come on, don’t fail me now. Not tonight of all nights.” I try yet again and nothing but a clicking sound, no sign that the engine is going to start up and drive my tired ass home. Peering through the front windshield, I watch as Maria’s taillights disappear. Oliver is long since gone, which leaves me all alone. I don’t have a cell phone—that’s an expense that I can’t afford. I’m barely keeping a roof over my head and food on the table. Exhaling a deep breath, I grab my bag, the keys, and climb out of the car. I lock the door, even though no one would want to steal it. Ronnie has beat it in my head to keep it locked to keep others from hiding in the back seat. I think he watches too many murder mysteries, but I don’t tell him that. I just lock my doors. It’s easy enough, and it makes him smile when he sees that I’ve listened. Linda said she does the same. “Pick your battles,” she once told me. I’m lucky to have them both.
The back parking lot where the employees park is dimly lit, so I keep my hand on my bag, keeping it close, and rush around the front of the building and the main entrance of the hotel. Once we shut the door, we’re locked out for the night, so I’m going to have to ask the front desk to use their phone.Chapter 3OwenI’ve been staying at the Emerald Seaside Resort for a week now. They’re struggling financially, which is why I’m here. That’s what I do. Jase called in a personal favor, and to be honest, getting out of Nashville for a few days sounded like a damn good plan. A few days has turned into a week. I don’t understand where the financial bleed is coming from, but my gut tells me it’s someone, not something that’s causing them to lose money hand over fist. I called Jase last night to give him my thoughts. He asked me to stick around until he can find out why they’re dragging their feet giving me access to the books. It’s been seven days. Their time is up.