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I sigh. “No. I’ve never slept with Ian. I don’t fraternize with hotel employees.”
“Except me.”
“Yes. There was that... one time, but I’ve never done it again, and definitely not with Ian.”
I bristle. Fully disgusted.
Oliver smiles. “Yeah, I know.”
I frown. “What did he say to you?”
“Oh, you know. Just the usual things idiots say when they don’t have a chance in hell.” He looks at the bed again. “Bend you over this. Make you do that.”
“Gross,” I say as another wave of creeps crawl up my arms. “And what did you say? After the fist bump, I mean.”
“I told him it was inappropriate and that he doesn’t have a free pass to hit on you just because Graham isn’t here anymore.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
He nods. “Graham gave me a head’s up about him. Said Ian’s made you feel uncomfortable before.”
“Once or twice,” I confirm. “Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”
“It’s my job.” His gaze lingers on my expression. “You can check off toiletries, mirrors, and towels.”
I stare at my clipboard instead. “Thank you.”
Oliver walks forward, triggering my pulse as he stops a foot away from me. “See?” he says, teasing me to look at him. “Authority.”
My lips twitch. “Right.”
“But you’re right. I should review my notes for tomorrow.” He takes a step back. “If you’ve got this taken care of...”
“I do!” I say, presenting my clipboard. “I’ll be done soon.”
“Gift shop in an hour?”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
He opens the door. “Let me know if Ian gives you any more trouble,” he says before stepping out into the hall.
“I will...”
He closes it behind him. I exhale hard, feeling the sudden rush of heat leaving my cheeks as I glance at the bed again.
“Oh, boy,” I whisper.
CHAPTER 8
OLIVER
There’s no better way to spend an evening than trapped down in the depths of the Botsford Plaza archives.
That sounds like bullshit, but it’s not. The archives are the beating heart of the hotel. All of its records, numbers, and secrets lie in these file cabinets and boxes. Sure, mostly everything is done on computers these days, but founder Beau Botsford believed that there were still plenty of reasons to keep a hard copy lying around and that fifty-year-old habit doesn’t seem likely to break soon.
So, here we are.
Paige and me.
