From Here to You Page 4

I watched Maddox stroll across the lobby and sit at the bar. He joked with Stavros for a bit, then with his fellow hotshots.

  “They’ll start coming in droves any minute. We should train you on the basics.”

  Tilde was patient, showing me the computer system, how to check in and out, create keys, set up a wake-up call and a reservation, how to know if an outside call is coming in, or a guest is calling, how to patch a phone call through to a room.

  The double glass doors swept open, and a small group of men walked inside carrying duffel bags and backpacks, chuckling and trading light punches and shoving. They were distracted by the man sitting at the bar, and approached him, knocking off his ball cap and taking turns trying to shove him off his stool.

  “Why do boys do that?” I asked. “They’re so mean to one another.”

  “Mean? No, precious, that’s just how they show affection. Men in positions like theirs…and policemen, soldiers, you know the like. They’re all that way.”

  I frowned. “Someone should tell them it’s not affection.”

  The hotshots were thin, their cheekbones protruding, eyes sunken. They seemed happy enough, teasing each other and laughing, as if they were old high school buddies reunited after years of being apart.

  Tilde spoke through her smile. “Here he comes.”

  “Maddox?” I said, mimicking her hushed tone.

  “Taylor Maddox!” she said when he was close enough to hear. “So good to see you again. How’s the family?”

  “Dad’s good. Brothers are good,” Taylor said, looking down as he fished his wallet from his back pocket. He tossed his ID and a credit card, then turned his attention to his phone, tapping out a quick reply. When he put it away, he looked up, catching my gaze. “Oh.”

  “Good afternoon,” I said.

  “Is everything satisfactory with your room?” Tilde asked.

  He ignored Tilde to reply to me. “We ran into each other in the hall.”

  “I remember,” I said.

  “So…your first day, huh? How’s it going so far?”

  “Fine,” I said, letting him know with my answer and body language I wasn’t interested.

  He chuckled, seeming to take no offense. “I have a king. I’ll need a double, Tilde. Two keys.”

  “One double left. You’re lucky,” Tilde said, clicking away on the computer. “I’ll just need your credit card again.”

  Taylor flashed a perfect smile, glancing at me for half a second before handing me his card.

  I passed it on to Tilde, who batted her eyes. Anything that man said would make her blush. Yes, he was attractive, and charming, and on the surface, at least, he was kind and humble. I wondered if I was suspicious of him because of the wall I’d had to build or if there was something familiar about him—and not in a good way. With her mouse, she selected a room, and then input Taylor’s name and information. She programmed two card keys and handed them over. Seems easy enough.

  “All set,” Tilde said.

  Taylor signed his receipt, and Tilde returned his credit card, then inserted the keys into a small envelope, reaching across the desk with it. “There you are. Welcome home. Again.”

  “Thanks, Tilde. I didn’t catch your name.”

  Tilde answered for me. “Darby. We haven’t gotten her a name tag yet.”

  “Huh. Never heard that before. Has to be a story.”

  “A very boring one,” I said.

  “I’d like to hear it sometime, anyway,” he said, walking toward the elevator bay.

  Tilde hummed. “Oh my. You’ve already found trouble.”

  “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Not interested in dating. Definitely not his type at all. No firefighters, hotshots, law enforcement, soldiers…”

  Tilde chuckled. “You’re right. Those jobs all require certain personalities, don’t they?”

  The phone warbled, and Tilde grabbed it quickly, holding the receiver against her chin with her shoulder. “Front desk. How can I help you, Mr. Trexler? Oh. I’m so sorry about that. Yes, I’ll have some sent up right away.” Tilde pressed down on the hook with one finger. “Damn it.” She released and dialed another number. She waited. She sighed. She rolled her eyes and hung up. “Darby, there should be a housekeeping cart somewhere down the far hall. Grab four bath towels, four hand towels, and four washrags, and take them to Scottie Trexler in two-oh-one.”

  I pointed across the lobby to the opposite wall. “The cart is down that hall?”

  Tilde nodded.

  The lobby was difficult to navigate, a maze of mostly starved, grungy men, and a few women. I rounded the corner to another hallway, the interior wall broken up by another twenty or so beige doors. Halfway down, a housekeeping cart sat unattended, full of glasses, towels, washcloths, soaps, and those little bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I helped myself to the towels and cloths and returned through the lobby.

  The hotshots gathered around the bar parted like the Red Sea, pausing their conversations long enough for me to pass with arms full of bleached cotton. The elevator shuddered as it approached the second level, and then bounced, the doors opening to a quiet hallway. A large, diamond-shaped mirror hung straight across from where I stood. The woman in the reflection looked different than the tearful, trapped bride in the mirror of the tiny church in Fort Hood. There was hope in my eyes. Independence.

  Room 201 was just fifteen feet from the elevators. I rapped my knuckles against the door. “Housekeeping,” I said, unsure if that was the right thing to do or not.

  “Just a sec!” a man yelled, and then a crash sounded from somewhere inside the room. “Shit! Hang on!”

  The door swung open, and my eyes scrolled up over five feet of white terry cloth, chest, neck, and then a pair of baby-blue eyes. The man was breathing hard, holding open the door, holding his breath when his gaze caught mine. It took him a moment to form a single word. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I smiled. “Towels?” I said, holding them up.

  “Uh…”

  “I’m sorry, did you…?”

  “Yeah! Yeah,” he said, taking them off my hands. “Sorry about that. I tripped over the damn…Never mind. Thank you.” He grinned. Not the kind of smile a predator like Shawn would flash, hoping to draw me in. “I’m Trex.”

  “Darby,” I said. Just the sound of my name seemed to please him. He couldn’t stop staring at me, and I couldn’t look away.

  “Oh. Damn it, I’m sorry.” Trex dug into his pocket, producing a twenty-dollar bill, and placed it in my palm. “Thanks again.”

  I peered down at the worn paper in my hand. “That’s really not necessary.”

  “I insist.”

  I handed him back the money, forcing myself to say the words that came to mind. “No, thank you.”

  I turned on my heels, leaving Trex standing in the doorway, smiling all the way to the elevator. Saying no to someone for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—gave me a feeling impossible to describe to someone who’d never been a doormat most of their life. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I didn’t remember feeling so happy.

  “Darby,” Trex called from his room.

  I froze, looking at him over my shoulder. I wondered how long it would take for the paralyzing fear at the sound of a man’s voice saying my name to flush from my system.

  “Would you like to grab dinner sometime?”

  I couldn’t erase the ridiculous grin from my face. “No thanks.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “No thanks.” My smile probably wasn’t convincing, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Do you just love shooting me down, or am I really that detestable?”

  “Yes,” I said, dancing the second I was alone inside the elevator.

  Confrontation and saying no weren’t something I’d been capable of. Even if it led to a horrible death, I would rather go along with a stranger and listen to the alarms going off in my head, desperate for me to exercise self-preservation, than hurt his feelings.
I was taught to be polite, comply, appease, ever since I could communicate. Hug that stranger, kiss that aunt, smile to everyone, even if my gut said they were trouble. It’s the reason I found myself on the lap of a friend’s father at midnight during a sleepover with his hands down my pants, and why my grandfather was confident in persuading me to rub him in places I didn’t want to look at, much less touch.

  Saying no was my new superpower, and I would use it every time I had the chance, from now on.

  Chapter Four

  Trex

  I kept staring at the last place I saw her, as if she might reappear and laugh like she was playing a prank, but the elevator chimed, and I was sure she was on her way downstairs. I shook my head. She looked like a beauty queen without twenty layers of makeup, complete with a world peace–creating smile and stage-worthy saunter. I’d come across beautiful women before—even dated a few—but I didn’t expect to see a woman like her working in a place like this. She should be married to George Clooney and fighting for human rights, running her own charity for clean water, and basically saving the world, not in a shithole hotel in Colorado Springs.

  I closed the door, suddenly embarrassed over spending so much time staring down the hall.

  My cell phone rang, and I put down the towels in the bathroom, jogging over to my nightstand. I tugged on the charger and toppled over, back-first onto the mattress. “Hey, Val.”

  “It’s been months. You couldn’t call?” Val asked. Her voice was comforting, even knowing she was hundreds of miles away. She’d always had my back, had tried for years to be my voice of reason every time I’d wanted to walk out while giving my boss the finger.

  “I’ve been overseas, trying to stay busy,” I said, picking at the lace of my boot. “Guess who I just had lunch with today?”

  “Your dad?”

  “Very funny. Taylor Maddox.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “How did that happen?”

  I chuckled, surprised myself. “They’re on the fire near here. I’m staying in the same hotel. I thought he was going to attack me when I first saw him, then he asked me to lunch.”

  She sighed. “Those Maddox boys. So…how was lunch?”

  “Good. I think Taylor’s in love with the waitress. He just met her today, by the way. We forgot to tip her and he was freaking out about it. He’s taking money to her tonight.”

  “Aw, that’s kind of sweet.”

  “Yeah, if she didn’t hate him.”

  “So, you like it there, huh? In Colorado?”

  “I think I do,” I said.

  “Well…I guess that’s it, then.”

  “I’ll miss you, Val. I really will. Take care.”

  “You, too. But…Scottie? Don’t be a stranger. And if you need anything, just call.”

  “Thanks, Val.”

  Pressing End wasn’t the closure I’d hoped for. Val wanted me to say more, but there wasn’t more to say. One kiss one drunken night at the local pub wasn’t enough to make me want to stay. She would likely be over it this time next month.

  My phone made a muted thud when I tossed it to the mattress. I mulled over the next day, excited about seeing my old buddies again, nervous about doing the job to the satisfaction of General Tallis. He was known for being a hard-ass.

  The rest of my team would be waiting on me at six a.m. sharp at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Some of us hadn’t seen one another in years. The Complex was at least a half hour away, and I had to get my credentials first. I lifted my arm to see the red digital numbers of my watch. Just a few minutes after seven. I had just enough time to grab dinner and a shower before attempting eight full hours of sleep. My first day at the Complex would be at least twelve hours long.

  I pushed myself up, my muscles aching from my workout at Iron Mountain Gym, where I’d bought a membership the week before. After lunch, I’d lifted until my arms would barely work to drive back to the hotel. Earbuds in, exhausting every muscle, I had made my thoughts go numb; my one safe space away from the worry, guilt, and anxiety that flooded my daily thoughts. Especially after quitting my job and moving, I had a lot of ground to cover. Soldiers were damaged goods, and we all had to find a way to live with the nightmares that played in our minds whether we were awake or asleep.

  Once again, I was in the elevator. I should find a place of my own soon. Up and down in that box was going to get old fast, and it reminded me too much of the Bureau.

  A chime sounded before the doors opened and I stepped out into the hall. The lobby hadn’t cleared much. Instead of standing in line to check in, the hotshots were standing around with clear plastic cups full of beer. Part of me hoped I’d run into the housekeeping chick again, but she was standing behind the check-in desk this time. Hotshot firefighters, interagency brass, and higher-ups from the Forestry Department surrounded the front desk. Tilde was checking them in, one room at a time, and training Darby while she did it. Darby didn’t seem flustered, though, her eyes taking in everything, all with a smile on her face.

  One hotshot had his elbows leaned on the counter, a goofy smile on his face while he spoke to Darby. She was clearly uninterested, concentrating on her training. Something stirred in my chest, watching her ignore the guy two feet away trying to woo her. He wasn’t bad looking, and most girls fell for the firefighter shtick. Darby couldn’t have been less interested. I wondered why as I approached the front desk and heard the poor bastard practically crooning at her.

  “Tilde,” I said, cutting in front of the waiting hotshots. Be smart, Trex. “Where’s a good place to eat around here?”

  “There’s a Mexican restaurant down the road,” Darby said. “Their queso is fantastic. That’s all I know, though.”

  “Walking distance?” I asked.

  “Goodness, no,” Tilde said. “It’s at least four miles.”

  “I walked here from there.” Darby shrugged, a grin on her face.

  I smiled back at her. A small gesture, but a smile was more than the hotshot flirting with her had gotten. Something about drawing her attention made me crave it more. Just before I asked what time she got off work, Tilde handed me a tri-folded menu.

  “Jimmy’s. Tastes like home-cooked meals. Across the street and down. Can’t miss it.”

  Darby leaned over, trying to read the menu. When she saw me watching her, she stood upright, looking caught. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  Darby shook her head quickly.

  Tilde watched her for a moment, then frowned. “You just had queso for lunch? We’re going to be here until eleven. You’ll be starving.”

  “I had salsa, too. I’m fine,” Darby said, trying to focus her attention on the next hotshot checking in.

  Her accent was fucking adorable. “They’ll probably close before your shift’s over. I could bring you both back something.”

  “You are just the sweetest,” Tilde said. “Let me get you some money, honey.”

  “Get it later,” I said, reaching over the counter for a pen. “What would you hardworking ladies like?” I’d wanted to write down their orders, but Darby took a step back as if I were grabbing for her. I moved more slowly, as if I were in the presence of a wild animal. Darby’s ivory cheeks flushed when she saw what I was reaching for. I held the pen over the paper, waiting for her answer.

  Darby scanned a key card, keeping her head down. She was so confident before, but now she acted like a kicked dog. “I’m good,” she said.

  I jotted down my number, handing the paper to Tilde. “You’ll be starving by the time you get off work. I really don’t mind. Just text me what you want.”

  I began to walk away, but Darby tugged on my shirt. “Trex! I…” She tucked loose strands of honey-blond behind her ear. “I don’t get paid for two weeks. I can’t pay you back today.”

  “So, pay me back when you can. It’s just food.”

  Her full lips pressed together in a hard line. She was barely wearing any ma
keup, clothes too big even for her Southern-belle curves, and yet she was stunning. I looked down. She was still hanging on to my shirt.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, crossing her arms across her waist. She peered around, waiting for someone to tell her she’d done something wrong.

  “It’s okay, Darby. Just relax.” Her shoulders lowered from her earlobes to a normal position. This girl was wound tighter than the girdle of a Baptist minister’s wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast. “It’s all right.”

  She nodded.

  “You going to text me?” I asked.

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Just have Tilde text me, then. If you get busy, don’t worry about it. I’ll just pick something for you.”

  I turned, feeling her watch me walk through the automatic doors. Even with the summer sun hovering over the horizon and veiled by the smoke from what the news channels called a thousand-acre fire, its hot breath blew in my face. I took in my surroundings, seeing the neon sign that read JIMMY’S exactly where Tilde said it would be.

  My entire walk was spent thinking about the blonde behind the counter, matching her voice with the one that had been ingrained in my brain, even when I was awake. She had an unapologetic shape I didn’t see on many women in California. I could curve my fingers around Darby’s waist, but half the buttons on her Oxford shirt were working overtime to contain her double D cups, and her hips didn’t look like a Ken doll, instead rolling out gentle into thighs I could hold on to. I tried to shake the image of me running my hands over her curves, feeling my dick press against the back of my pants even as I dodged traffic while crossing the highway to Jimmy’s.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out someone had hurt her in more ways than one. That thought alone made any sexual thoughts melt away with a wave of guilt. Hailey was a stunner, too, and I’d threatened more than one guy who ogled her and had lewd thoughts before even speaking to her. Darby seemed sweet and didn’t need some douchebag fantasizing about her.

  “Welcome,” the host said when I pushed through the glass door. He peered behind me. “How many?”