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An old couple walked past us, moving as far away as they could in the hallway. The cleaning people were working their way toward us with their rolling carts and large bins of dirty towels.
“We can go back in the room,” I said.
“No. Every time I see that bed, I get cold chills.” She dabbed at her face some more. “He came up with me last night. It went really well, I thought. Then I came out of the bathroom and he was dressed and wanted to talk.”
“Ugh.”
“He was sorry. I deserve the best, I really do, he just didn’t know…he needed to step back.” She took a shuddery breath. “Itold him to get out. I think I said fuck off—I threw a pillow at him.”
“Too bad he didn’t trip on it.”
She leaned her head on my hip. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, I guess.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The day after returning from Vegas, Sunday, I stood up from the dining-room table, closed my laptop, and stretched. A few hours had slipped by while I’d been hunched over my keyboard. I grabbed my iced tea and tottered, a bit stiffly, over to a stool in the kitchen.
“Today,” I said to Hazel as she sprayed and wiped down the stone counters in the kitchen, “a bodyguard is stopping by for an interview.”
She cocked her head at me, spiked yellow and orange hair not moving even as her hands continued to buff her rag in quick circles. “Um, wow. That’s a big deal, isn’t it? Almost like another roommate…”
I nodded. “Or a platonic partner that knows everything about me. Tell me what you think about him, okay?”
“Sure.” She stood up. “You’re doing a background check, right?”
“Just ordered it.” I walked into the kitchen to the fridge. Antonio had started making gorgeous pitchers of iced tea infused with herbs and fruit. I poured myself a glass. “So far, I like this security company best—they’re a local firm.They have an office in town and are easy to communicate with.”
“That sounds good.” Hazel bent over to strap on her knee pads. For some reason, she preferred to do the kitchen floor with rags on her hands and knees. It did come out spotless. “Have you heard anything about your dog?”
I smiled. “Yes. I’m picking Charley up on Wednesday. There’s so much to do…I ordered a bunch of stuff online. Tomorrow, I’ll be visiting a dog daycare place.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m a little nervous. Do you think he’ll settle in all right? Classes start tomorrow so I’ll be busy…”
“I like your plan,” Hazel called up from the floor. “He won’t be alone.”
The doorbell rang. I smoothed down my ruffle-fronted tailored tank and shorts set and marched to the door.
On my doorstep stood a tall, dark-skinned, bald man, very fit and good looking, and probably in his late thirties. He nodded at me. “I’m Tyrese Williams, from Marble Security. Here’s my ID.” He held out two cards in front of me.
“Thank you for coming by on a Sunday. I’m Sally. I recognize you from the info your company sent over. Come on in.”
He stepped inside and took off his shoes. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Sally.”
“I’d rather stick to ma’am.”
“Huh.” I glanced at his hard face. He stood very straight with his hands clasped behind his back, a kind of military-parade rest or something. “And what’s your preferred honorific?”
“Tyrese.”
I sighed. “Can I pour a glass of iced tea for you?” The man was as rigid as a rock.
“No, thank you.”
I sat at the dining-room table and gestured for him totake a seat. Thankfully, he did. “Well,” I said, “we know a bit about each other. You handle weapons and I have a violent jackass obsessed with me. I’m getting a dog this week, by the way.”
“That’s good,” he said, nodding his head once.
I crossed my legs and leaned back. “I read everything they sent about you: your military service, other clients you’ve worked for and their recommendations. Your fitness and health are stellar.”
