Page 2 of Fake Dating the SEAL
“Mr. Yates. Welcome.” The pretty brunette behind the check in counter smiled up at him. “We have you in the luau suite.”
“Suite?”
Her gaze lifted from the keyboard. “Yes, sir. You’ve been upgraded.”
Not being a member of any loyalty programs, he had no clue how this had come to happen.
His prolonged silence must have spoken volumes of what was on his mind because the brunette smiled a little wide. “Our manager is former Navy. I believe someone mentioned that you’re retiring.” She blinked. “Thank you for your service.”
As he always did when someone approached him to thank him for doing his job, he nodded and smiled back. Taking the keycard and room number, he tapped his toe behind him and did a perfect military turn. That was one habit he was going to have to work on breaking.
No sooner had he closed the door to his suite behind him, when his phone buzzed. A text from Billy.Did Mom’s gift arrive?
Kenny scanned the room, but it only took a second to find what Billy most likely referred to. A massive plate of homemade Christmas cookies. His cheeks tugged hard at the corners of his mouth. There were few things in this world as delicious as Maile Everrett’s homemade holiday cookies. He suspected that the love in that family had to be the secret ingredient.
Phone in hand, he shoved one in his mouth and began to tap out a response.Shortbread. My favorite. Tell her thank you.
Tell her yourself. You’re expected for dinner tomorrow night.
Of course he was. Laughing to himself, he tapped at the phone again.Wouldn’t miss it.
Already he felt a thousand times better than he had when he’d gotten on the flight from Honolulu. Shoving the curtainsopen, he took in the expansive view. The nice thing about being in the Navy was that most bases were somewhere near an ocean. Even though he’d grown up in suburbia, he’d always felt most at home near a body of water.
The low moonlight shone on the rippling waves. So very peaceful. For the first time since deciding to separate from Uncle Sam’s Navy, he was going to simply enjoy the view. He wasn’t going to think about what came next, or if he’d made the right decision, or if he’d simply lost his mind. Sliding the room card into his wallet, he cranked the window open just enough for a breeze and turned to find the rooftop bar. Figuring out the rest of his life could wait another day.
Chapter Two
How could so few people go through so many towels? Sara shoved the door to the restroom lounge area open with her hip and stacked the fresh pile of crisp white hand towels on the marble counter. One by one, she carefully folded each one and stacked them into what, appropriately for the season, reminded her of a Christmas Tree.
The season was the key reason why she accepted working the late shift attendant’s slot. Working the day shift in housekeeping had been steady work for years, and every so often, one of the guests would leave her a nice fat tip for making their beds and straightening their rooms. Sometimes she thought the people who stayed at the Kings Resort had more money than Croesus. But it was the restroom attendants that got the plum tips. Always working alone, there was no pooling and sharing of tips. Whatever a patron gave her was all hers. The first time a hulking pro ball player had given her a hundred-dollar tip for simply handing him a small towel after he’d washed his hands, had sold her on taking the extra duty any time offered. The moonlighting had done wonders to help pad her bank account the last few years. Especially since what little she’d saved before moving home had been spent on that deadbeat boyfriend she’d supported until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Even if it hadmeant moving home under her mother’s watchful eye. Now she was saving for her own home, no more renting, something that couldn’t be taken away from her. Unfortunately, Hawaii wasn’t known for bargain real estate, so she might be saving for a lot longer than she’d like.
Taking a seat in the corner by the long wall of sinks, she stared at the furnishings in the foyer. The idea of a foyer to the men’s and ladies room was something she hadn’t even considered before coming to work here. Though the sinks were along one wall, a door to the left led to the ladies room and across the way, a door to the men’s room. But in between, in true five star luxury, the lounge had plush chairs and sofas, low coffee and side tables, fresh floral arrangements that would knock the socks off the florist for Buckingham Palace, as well as vanity areas for women to touch up their faces or hair. It was also her responsibility to offer them perfume, hand lotion, or any other personal care item the hotel provided. Same for the men, but few cared how they looked when they came out from taking a leak as long as their zipper was up.
The rooftop lounge, which had been buzzing with life an hour ago, was now down to a handful of stragglers. Checking her watch, at close to midnight, it would only be a little longer until her shift would be over. All she could think of for the last hour was getting a late snack and crawling under the covers and sleeping until the party at Maile Everrett’s tomorrow afternoon, but an uneven clicking sound from inside the ladies room side of the restrooms caught her attention. The bathrooms had been empty when she’d gone to retrieve more towels and she hadn’t heard anything before now. That was odd. Most women didn’t spend that much time on the toilet. Not that it was any of her business.
The sound returned. The clicking louder. Not the even paces of a woman in heels, but an awkward arrangement of heavy andsoft taps on the tile floor. Could the woman be dancing? Warring with the need to see what was going on and the responsibility of staying at her post, a loud thud followed by a squeal had Sara rushing into the ladies room to find a blonde woman with a sparkly dress and a very expensive-looking handbag on the marble floor, her back against the stall door. Her mascara smudged, her legs sprawled out from under her, she giggled happily at nothing in particular.
Carefully kneeling beside the woman, the overwhelming scent of tequila and coconut smacked Sara in the face. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine.” The woman tried to wave dismissively but nearly toppled sideways. “Just resting.”
“Let me help you up.” Sara slipped an arm around the woman’s waist and tried to lift her. The blonde was sheer dead weight, and the moment Sara got her halfway vertical, her knees buckled.
“Whee!” The blonde giggled as she slid back down.
Where were those pro ball players when you needed them? Heaving a deep sigh, Sara studied the woman still giggling at nothing in particular, and a strappy stiletto heel swinging like a pendulum from her finger. Sara glanced at the woman’s feet—only one shoe. That would explain the odd tapping sound.
“Come on, let’s try again to get you standing.” Sara debated taking off the other shoe, but opted to just get the woman off the floor first, out of the toilets, and in the lounge they could deal with her footwear.
“You’re so nice.” The woman patted Sara’s cheek with a clammy hand. “I like you. You smell good.”
“Thank you.” Steeling herself for another try, Sara looped her arms around the woman’s waist, turned her face sideways to avoid the overpowering smell of tequila… and mayberum? No wonder the woman couldn’t walk. Squatting and then tuggingwith all her might, Sara was sure this time she’d get the woman to her feet when the blonde lurched forward and Sara’s feet scrambled out from under her.
The wiggly woman squealed with the delight of a kid on a roller coaster and Sara flipped backward, the hundred pounds of blonde landing splat on top of her, knocking her breath out. Oh, this was so not good.
Kenny drained the last of his drink and set the glass on the polished bar top. After months of debriefings and paperwork, his mind still whirred with the ingrained routines of twenty years of military life. The rooftop had been exactly what he needed—the peaceful Kona night, the ocean breeze, a decent drink, and the distant sound of the waves went a long way to quiet the noise in his mind. A few more days of this and he’d be ready to take on his new world.
The bartender was wiping down glasses and putting them one by one in the rack below, clearly ready to close up shop. Only two tables remained occupied. One with a couple who wouldn’t have noticed if a bomb landed beside them. He didn’t doubt they’d be off to their room soon enough. At the other table, a single man with a glass in front of him and an empty one across the table told Kenny the guy hadn’t been alone all night.
