Tropical Bartender Bear (Shifting Sands Resort 3)

Her pamphlet had a map of the resort with the narrow hotel building circled. “You’ll want to use the second door,” Lydia said, indicating it on the map with a little blue dot. “And go ahead and use the staff elevator, it’s directly on your left when you go in. Ignore the sign; there’s no keycard required for it.” She gave Laura a warm wink.

“Thanks,” Laura said, and they shared a companionable smile.

“I’ve got a sunrise yoga class in the event room if you’re up.” Lydia added shyly, pointing to the schedule on the back of the pamphlet.

Laura’s smile slipped; sunrise and Laura didn’t really get along, but she knew that Jenny was an early riser. And if she was going to maintain the charade… “I’ll... try to wake up in time.”

“Jetlag can be a bitch,” Lydia said kindly. “You’ll be welcome if you can make it.”

“Thanks,” Laura said weakly. Jenny had been dedicated if not enthusiastic about her yoga classes, even if her efforts hadn’t given her a shape any different than her lazier twin sister’s.

Laura took her keycard and turned back to her bags. At first, she thought it was another Mr. Shifter contestant who was stalking up; he certainly had that Mr. Shifter physique. Then he started to take her bags, and Laura recognized that he was wearing a staff polo shirt with a nametag: Graham.

“I’ve got these,” she said, before he could pick them up. “They stack, and have wheels, so I’m fine.”

He grunted and shrugged, and went to fetch another pile of luggage without so much as a sideways glance. He picked up half the pile without a hint of effort, and left as abruptly as he’d come in, festooned with bags.

Well, that one wouldn’t have gotten far through the personality competition, Laura thought wryly. She slung her purse over her shoulder and just as she was about take her bags and find her hotel room, she heard, “Jenny! Jenny!”

It was a heartbeat before Laura remembered that she was Jenny, and she turned with a resigned sigh to smile and wave weakly at Fred as he came in with the next surge of guests in the single courtesy van from the tiny airport.

It had just become a dozen times more difficult to maintain her cover.

Chapter 4

A scream broke the hot afternoon lull. Tex dropped the drink he was making and vaulted over his counter without a second thought, bringing the baseball bat he kept there automatically. It was a short sprint out the back door, and he spent those strides wondering what insane threat to expect this time.

For such a quiet little resort, Shifting Sands got some strange events, and in the months that Tex had been working there, there had been a hostage situation with South American mercenaries, someone had wired the resort generators to blow up, and a crazy rare-shifter collector had been kidnapping guests. Once, he’d had to break up a lion and bear fight. What would it be this time, the mob?

No, no, he told himself, this was Central America, probably it was the cartel here.

Graham materialized from a hedge with a machete just as Tex made the back entrance of the bar. There they found the new maid with the French accent standing on the sidewalk, clutching her armful of fresh folded towels and shrieking at the top of her lungs. A wide column of ants was making their merry way across her path and she was backing up from them in horror.

Graham lowered his machete, gave her a dirty look, and vanished back into his beloved greenery. The few guests who had followed him to discover the source of the commotion decided there was nothing to see and returned to the bar, grousing about dramatics.

Feeling as sorry for Graham’s disgusted look as he did for the ants, Tex leaned his baseball bat against the doorframe and crossed the ants with one extra long stride.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. They occasionally get it in their little ant heads to march from some place to some other place, but they’ll be done in no time at all. It’s the jungle, after all, you’ve got to expect some insect encroachers. Graham does his best to keep them off most of the paths, but there’s a limit to what even he can do.”

The maid — her nametag said Marie, which was just perfect - threw herself into Tex’s arms, towels and all.

“There’s so many of them!” she sobbed. Her French accent was strangely gone.

Tex looked at the ants in some bewilderment. He’d gotten used to them, and suspected that Marie would not last long at Shifting Sands if she wasn’t able to handle a simple ant migration. “You should see what happens to the cottages if people sneak food back to them,” he said, patting her on the shoulder and hoping that the humor was reassuring.

She continued to sob on him.

“Now there, it’s okay. You can just step right over them, they won’t even notice you.”

She made a noise of alarm and clung to him harder.

“Alright, then, ma’am, hold on.”

She was barely an armful, even heaped with towels, and Tex was able to swing her up and carry her over the offending column of ants. He set her down on her feet, but she continued to hold on, clutching the towels between them.

“You’re safe, m

a’am,” he said, slightly strangled. “You can let go now.”