“I didn’t mean to,” Juan was stuttering, clutching his camera. “It was just, the leaves were in the shot, you know, and they were casting shadows I didn’t want, and it was just a plant, and you have to frame the shot just so, and I’m famous in Europe, you know…”
He trailed off to a squeak as Tex handed his bat to Breck and strode forward to lay a careful hand on Graham’s arm.
“It’s okay Graham, he didn’t mean any harm. We can’t hurt the guests, come on, let him go.” He wasn’t foolish enough to say that they were only plants. You never said that to Graham.
With a predatory snarl, Graham abruptly let go of the struggling man, leaving him gasping and staggering.
He gave one angry snap of the hedge clippers that made Juan give a thin little shriek, then turned on his heel and left, white gravel crunching under his feet.
Breck actually laughed, and offered Juan the bottle he was holding. “Don’t ever cut Graham’s plants,” he told the gasping Juan. “It’s right in the resort contract.”
“Is it?” Tex asked, surprised. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen a copy of a guest contract.
Juan took a deep slug of the liquor.
Breck nodded. “Next thing after ‘No predation.’”
“It’ll grow back,” Juan protested. “This is the jungle!”
“Other things might not,” Breck warned him with another chuckle. “I heard Graham killed a shifter with his bare hands, so I wouldn’t so much as step off the paths the rest of this week if you want to get out of here alive.”
Cowed, Juan checked his camera for damage and slunk down the path away from the bar.
“There is no end to the crazy here,” Tex said, shaking his head. “I’d better get back to the bar before someone decides to go all Tom Cruise with one of the single malts.”
“How’s it going with your sweetheart?” Breck asked, as they walked in through the back entrance of the bar. “Is she admitting she’s your mate now that you saved her so dramatically?”
Tex could only smile foolishly at him, then he had to go mix drinks for Mr. Austria’s ditzy assistant.
Chapter 15
Dinners with Fred were agony.
When the restaurant was quiet and the wind was just right, Laura could hear the low thrum of Tex’s laugh from the bar below, and the chatter of the people enjoying his drinks and showmanship. She had to assume his antics were particularly good when there were scattered cheers and laughter.
“What do you think?” Fred asked.
Laura looked up, totally derailed on their conversation. “About?”
“I said, you should go to the swimsuit competition tonight,” Fred said. “I have some paperwork I need to work on, but you should go enjoy it.”
Laura pictured Tex in one of the tiny, glittery swimsuits, and had to hide her sudden flush of heat with a bite of her exquisite roasted chicken in grapes and herb sauce. She had never heard of their chef before coming to Shifting Sands, but was sure he could give any cook in the fashionable LA restaurant district a run for his money.
It suddenly occurred to Laura that if there was a big competition tonight, maybe the bar would be slow. Slow enough for Tex to duck out.
“I think, ah, that I will turn in early tonight,” she said, wondering if she could get away with feigning a yawn. “I was up really early, you know, and it was an exciting day.”
Fred would think she meant the poisoning attempt, but Laura’s thoughts were much more carnal, remembering the feeling of Tex’s hands on her waist, the pressure of his -- she stuffed another forkful of chicken in her mouth and smiled apologetically.
Two tables over, the little blonde event hostess, Jessica Linn, was protesting that her chicken was dry and tough, sending it back so stridently that conversation for several tables around her died to nothing.
“Honestly, as much as I’m paying to be here, I can’t believe they don’t give you more options for dinners. Seriously, the service here is deplorable.”
Knowing the type, Laura suspected she was coming down off a good drunk.
“No, I don’t want a replacement. If you can’t cook chicken correctly, I don’t want any castoffs from the buffet. I’ll just hope I don’t get faint from low blood sugar halfway through the swimsuit contest.” She brushed Breck off with a wave of her napkin. “It’s not like this is the most important event of the contest or anything. I’ll just go see if anyone at the spa isn’t incompetent.”
She huffed away, tossing her long, bottle-blonde hair over her shoulder as she went.