Page 4 of Sleeping with the Frenemy

“I’ll be fine.”

“As a maid, though? You have a college degree.”

The outrage in her voice almost made me laugh. “You’re becoming a snob.”

“There’s got to be somewhere else you can work.”

Now, I did laugh. “This town has a population of three hundred, little sister. Where, exactly, am I supposed to find a different job? The Valentis are the only ones hiring.” And it wasn’t like I could drive to a neighboring town to work. In the last year or so, the lodge had been vandalized more than once. It usually happened on the weekends—bored teenagers pulling pranks. But every bit of damage demanded dollars I didn’t have, so I’d started sleeping over every weekend.

Hence, my dead on arrival social life. My Saturday nights were usually spent huddled in one of the cabins streaming Netflix on my phone. Sometimes, I felt more like eighty-five than twenty-five.

Kat put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Can’t you just talk to Nana? Explain the situation?”

“Been there, done that.” Multiple times. And my grandmother always responded with “Virginville isn’t Philadelphia.” It was one of her favorite sayings. She didn’t want to see our little rural town lose its trees and open spaces. If we caved to the Valentis and sold our land to pay our debts, they would turn around and flip it to a developer. It was in their interests to do so. In a couple of years, the motor lodge would get leveled and a bunch of fast food restaurants would take its place.

Nana had a point. It was one I even agreed with. But trees didn’t do us much good when we were drowning in debt. The lodge hadn’t hosted a paying guest in over a year.

And the chances of one showing up now were about as good as a bag of money falling from the sky.

A loud knock filled the room.

Kat and I jumped and looked at the door.

In a hushed voice, she asked, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No,” I said in the same tone.

She swung her gaze to me, her eyes wide. “Could it be a customer?”

The knock sounded again—a loud thundering that seemed to shake the room. Irritation sparked in my mind. Growing up in a motor lodge taught me a great deal about human behavior. You can tell a lot by the way a person knocks, and whoever was outside was pushy as hell.

Pound, pound, pound.The dull thuds vibrated through the cabin.

“Jesus,” I muttered, standing and straightening my skirt. “You stay here,” I told my sister as I stalked to the door. Just as I reached for the knob, the pounding started up again.

I yanked the door open. “Can I help—”

My body froze, and not from the blast of cold air that rushed inside.

No way.

No way.

The universe couldn’t be this cruel.

Except what was I thinking? Of course it could. Just when I thought my Valentine’s Day couldn’t get any worse, here was this poisoned cherry on top of my shit sundae of a day.

Chase Valenti smiled, his teeth as white as the snow swirling around his mop of dark blond hair.

Except it wasn’t quite the mop I remembered. Now, it was pushed back from a broad, faintly lined forehead. Similar lines radiated from leaf-green eyes that gleamed with amusement.

But the lines didn’t detract from his looks. If anything, the signs of maturity enhanced them. So did his three-piece suit and camel-colored overcoat. Snow dusted his broad shoulders and wavy hair, and dark blond stubble shaded his square jaw. His blue silk tie nestled under a pristine white collar. He looked rich and sophisticated. The Chase I’d known had been a boy.

This was a man.

A scent teased my nose—a mix of leather and spruce and maybe a little tobacco thrown in.

I frowned.

He grinned.

Then, in the most blatant and infuriating move imaginable, he dropped his gaze to my feet and slowly raked it up my body. Like he knew it. Like he owned it.

I clenched my fists.

He reached my face, and his green eyes crinkled a little more.

“Hey there, Vicky Parker. You gonna let me in?”

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