Page 5 of Heart & Hope

“Uh-huh” is all I can say.

Good Lord, what the hell is this place?

And how on earth am I going to convince Mary-Sue I have a husband when he doesn’t exist? Surely, Olive can sort this out?

The elevator pings, doors sliding open.

Top level.

Miley shows me to my suite. With the swish of a card, the door clicks, and she pushes it open. The inside is huge, almost bigger than my apartment. The marble floor, the same as in the foyer, shines; the linens give off a crispness that floods the room. And at the far end are two wide double doors with a sprawling balcony. It’s brilliant.

And if I can make it through this job without being burned at the stake for my sordid unwed existence, maybe I can relax.

A little?

My phone vibrates in my tote.

“I’ll show myself out,” Miley says, lingering in the doorway.

I smile and wave her off as I answer.

“Olive! We have a problem.”

Chapter Two

REED

“RAW-LINS!”

“RAW-LINS!”

“RAW-LINS!”

Fists pound the table on either side of me. The huge guy about to shatter my wrist with his enormous mitt scowls inches from my face. Must be the direct descendant of Popeye, ’cause he’s set to snap me in half.

Bare-chested and sweating up a storm, I buckle down for pain, re-affirming my grasp on his hand. I strain against his twitching forearm, holding my own for a moment.

Arm-wrestling isn’t one of my finer moments. But tonight, it garners the attention of two women at the bar. And I have every intention of milking those sympathy looks until at least one of them is in the bed of my truck.

If Hudson were here, he would have slapped the back of my head by now. But he’s not, and my chances of losing spectacularly are high. The way I want them. It’s easy to be the loser when your entire family expects it.

A role I have long known how to fulfill.

But it has its perks.

It absolutely does. I snap my gaze from the brunette at the bar who’s about to have kittens over watching me die a slow and painful arm-wrestling death. I would smile, if I wasn’t about to be in a world of pain.

At least the ER in Great Falls is well-stocked and staffed. This isn’t my first rodeo.

“Reed, it’s fine. You don’t have to defend my honor!” With a whirl of cheap perfume and cigarette breath, the brunette closes in. A second later, she is hanging off Popeye’s flexing forearm. “Please, it’s not a big deal. Let him go. I’ll take the drink, please. Just don’t hurt him.”

The big guy’s scowl slides to her. A blush floods her neck and face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she only did it to egg him on in the first place. When his eyes dip to her breasts, almost spilling from the neckline of her tank top, his hand on mine loosens.

“You’re not goin’ to let her distract you that easily, are you, buddy?” I growl.

“Huh?” he rasps, grip turning painful.

A second later, my arm is wrenched in its socket and the back of my hand smashes into the wood.

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