He’d paired those pants with a red hoodie that had a middle finger drawn onto the front.
I’d told him that he was required to wear a plain, gray or white shirt with clean jeans. No profanity.
Clearly, he wasn’t happy that his mother had arranged for him to have this job. Maybe he was doing a shitty job because he hoped I’d fire him.
Oh, it was tempting.
But I’d promised myself I’d give him an honest two weekends.
He was working Saturdays and Sundays to start. Which meant I was working Saturdays and Sundays.
Instead of spending my weekend at the cabin alone, I’d been here, training Blaze. Yesterday, we’d worked together as I’d shown him how to clean a room and what was expected. Today, I’d let him do the work, but for every room he finished, I did an inspection.
So far, not a single room had been done correctly. Though they were getting better. Slightly. Maybe he’d do a decent job if that meant impressing Taylor.
Except I wouldn’t put that on her.
Taylor would be a senior at Quincy High in the fall. She was as reliable as she was friendly. With her blond hair and sparkling brown eyes, she was a ray of sunshine. She’d worked at the hotel since last summer. During the school year, she only worked weekends because she played volleyball and basketball. But during the summer, she was always willing to do whatever was necessary, from manning the desk to housekeeping, anything to add to her college savings.
“Sorry, Eloise,” she said once the stairwell door slammed closed behind Blaze. “I told him I was working and couldn’t talk but he just wouldn’t leave.”
“I know.” I sighed. “It’s not you.”
“He’s, um . . . different.”
If different meant creepy and rude. “Does he make you uncomfortable?”
“He hasn’t really done anything. He just talks about his video games a lot. They sound violent and that’s not really my thing.”
“If he does make you uncomfortable, text me immediately.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Okay. I’ll go monitor his progress. Again.” With heavy shoulders, I turned and marched upstairs.
It took Blaze the three times I’d expected for the vacuuming to be sufficient. His shift was the longest I’d endured in years, and by the time the rooms were finished, I wanted to scream.
This wasn’t going to work, was it?
Not only was his work shoddy, his attitude was grating on my nerves. If he wasn’t grumbling under his breath or rolling his eyes, he was making bold, insulting statements about Quincy.
He fucking hated this shithole of a town.
Blaze’s words, not mine.
Part of me felt bad for the kid. New town. New house. His mom had shoved a job down his throat. That sympathy was the only reason I hadn’t fired him yet.
“That’s all for today,” I told Blaze, walking with him to the staff room.
While he went to the locker I’d assigned him, I filled a coffee mug. It was bitter after sitting all day, but I sipped it anyway, needing the caffeine. Sleep this week had been lacking, mostly because I’d spent every night since Wednesday at Lyla’s place.
It was too quiet at the A-frame. The bed looked too lonely without Jasper. So I’d packed a bag and raided the fridge, extending my sleepover at my sister’s house.
Lyla’s guest room was cute and the bed was comfortable, but I just hadn’t been able to sleep. I woke up cold and no matter how many blankets I put on the bed, it wasn’t the same as snuggling against Jasper.
I yawned as Blaze slammed his locker door closed. “See you next Saturday.”
“I guess,” he muttered, walking to the time clock to punch his card with a thunk.
“Have a good—”
Blaze walked out of the room in the middle of my sentence.
“Week.” It was my turn for an eye roll. Then I stood in the quiet, sipping my coffee, staring at the time clock.
It was old fashioned. Charming. At least, charming up until the first and fifteenth of every month when I had to tally each employee’s hours manually before sending the details to our accountant. Replacing it was on my list of future updates. Someday.
When my cup was empty, I washed it in the sink and put it away, then headed to the front desk. “I’m heading out, Taylor.”
She only had about an hour left before she’d take off too. “Bye, Eloise. Have a good evening.”
I waved, using my hand to cover another yawn, then headed for the alley.
Knox’s truck was parked beside my Subaru. Part of me craved a bowl of his homemade mac ’n’ cheese and a big glass of wine, but instead of heading to Knuckles to visit my brother, I aimed my car toward home.
The sky was covered in gray clouds, and the scent of rain marked the air, so I rolled my windows down, breathing in the crisp smell as I drove.
My overnight bag and a pile of empty food containers were in the passenger seat. As much as I didn’t want to be alone in the A-frame, I’d told Lyla not to expect me tonight. I needed to do laundry and clean. And maybe tonight, I’d work up the courage to actually call Jasper to find out about his interview. Or not.
Phone calls, or communication in general, wasn’t really our forte. If our in-person conversations were one-sided, I couldn’t imagine what a phone call would be like.
To his credit, he’d done as I’d asked, texting me along the way for his trip. But the last text I’d gotten had been Thursday when he’d made it to Vegas.
Checking my phone for missed notifications had become as regular as yawning.
My eyelids drooped by the time I reached Alderson Road. Cleaning and laundry might have to wait another day. A hot shower and an early bedtime were calling.
But my exhaustion vanished the moment I turned onto the lane for the A-frame.
Jasper’s Yukon was outside the house.
My heart leapt.
He was home? When had he gotten back? Why hadn’t he texted me?
I parked and scrambled to gather my stuff. The sudden need to see him made my fingers fumble with a couple of the lids. But after some juggling, I had them all tucked close and managed to open the car’s door, kicking it closed while I hurried inside.
“Jasper?” I called when I didn’t see him anywhere. The containers were all dropped in the sink with a chorus of clattering. My backpack landed on the island with a thud. “Jas?”
The house was quiet.
So I moved through the living room, making my way toward the deck. I found him, sitting on the boards, his legs stretched in front of him as he bent to touch his toes. His hair was wet, like he’d just showered.
“Hi.” My eyes swept over his body, from his wet hair to his clean T-shirt to the shorts and his tennis shoes. Something in my chest unlocked. The breath I’d been holding since Wednesday. “You’re home.”
“Yeah.” He glanced up at me, then went back to stretching.
“Are you stiff from the drive?” I asked.
He shook his head, eyes locked on the toes of his shoes. “I showered but didn’t stretch at the gym after Foster and I finished up.”
The gym? “Foster’s gym?”
“Yep.”
I blinked, my sluggish brain trying to sort this out. He’d had time to go meet Foster? Wait. “When did you get back?”