Spending the day in bed together is the perfect way to end this week. I don’t want to leave for the fundraiser tonight, but I’ll do it, knowing this is just the beginning for Maggie and me.
I open the door and step aside. “Come on in.”
The attendant dressed in all white rolls a cart inside the suite. The assortment of covered plates looks like we’re going to feed a family of six. Then again, who knows when Sadie will return and our grandparents come and go as they please.
I dig a bill out of my wallet and toss it back on the counter.
“Thank you, sir.” He tucks the money in his pocket. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“No thanks.”
I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. A smug looking city man struts through the door. At first thought, I assume he’s walked into the wrong room. He’s dressier than most at the resort. I’d bet his pressed pants and button down are designer pieces. And his shiny loafers don’t look like they’ve been worn outside. But it’s his arrogant and determined swagger that gives me different vibes. Bad vibes.
“Can I help you?” I fold my arms over my chest.
“Probably not, but you could fetch me a bottle of water and a salad to go. We’re not staying.” The man jaunts out his chin and wrinkles his nose as his gaze skims the room.
I feel my shoulders straighten. “Sir, you’re in the wrong room.”
“This is where Maggie Hill is staying, correct?”
Jealousy flares through me. Unexpectedly. Unwanted. But there, none the less.
“Yes. Who the fuck are you?” My mom raised me better than to bark at strangers, but this jerk has it coming.
“He’s Marcus Adams,” the room attendant whispers to me like it’s supposed to mean something. “I’m a big fan,” he says to the intruder. “Big fan. Last season was amazing.”
A big fan of what? Season of what? And why does the name sound familiar?
“Marcus?” Maggie ties the white terry robe closed.
Damn, she’s beautiful. For a split second, I forget we’re not alone. Her body glows from the aftermath of our day of lovemaking. Her wild hair is as untamed as she is behind closed doors. A raw growl thrusts up my chest and I want to haul her over my shoulder and carry her back into the bedroom.
But she looks straight past me at our uninvited guest. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to save you.” The possessive way this assholes eyes rake over Maggie makes my hands curl into fists. “Get dressed. The car is waiting out front,” he orders dismissively. His nose curls up when he glances at my boots sitting by the door and my Stetson hanging on the wall.
Maggie steps beside me without brushing my side. I wonder if she’s purposely keeping her distance because of our guest.
“Marcus, is something wrong at the shop?”
Shit, that’s why his name is familiar. He’s her boss.
“No.”
“Then why are you here?” She folds her arms over her chest.
“To take you out of this hellhole and back to the city to start.”
I don’t like him. In fact, I hate him.
“Whiskey Ridge Creek is not a hellhole.” Maggie’s lips form a thin line. “It’s actually a beautiful small town.”
“We can’t discuss it here.” Marcus’ gaze lands on me instead of the actual employee standing beside me. However, the room attendant takes the hint and leaves. But not before praising his love for sir dipshit.
Marcus’ eyes haven’t left mine. “This is a private matter.”
I lift a lid off a plate of buttermilk biscuits. I rip one apart and pop a chunk in my mouth. I make no attempt to leave. “You barged into my suite.”
