Pasting a smile on my face, I say, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Jolene snorts as she pokes her head in. “Not exactly a suite at the Marriott, is it?”
Bree sets her gaze down at the floor, obviously hurt by Jolene’s insult. She’s clearly put a lot of work into making this a cozy home for someone—for me, as it turns out.
I give Jolene a sharp glare. “I think it’s terrific. Please give Ms. Lewis the cash, then you may leave.”
Jolene reaches into the pocket of her cargo shorts and pulls out the wad of money, then hands it to Brianna, who glances back and forth between us expectantly.
“We made a bet earlier. She lost,” I say.
Jolene raises one eyebrow and my stomach tightens automatically at the thought of her spilling the beans. But Brianna saves me, “None of my business.”
As she counts the cash, Jolene turns and starts toward the gate. She gives a little wave over her shoulder as she calls back, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Lewis. I’ll see you later, Leo.”
“I look forward to it.” I take out three hundred from my wallet and hand it to my new landlady. “Here’s the rest.”
“Perfect,” she says with a smile that I can only describe as extremely relieved. “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled then.”
As soon as Brianna leaves, I flop down onto the bed and let out a long sigh. It’s no pillow-top with thousand thread count Egyptian sheets, but it’s not awful. Oh, that’s not exactly true. It’s pretty awful.
It’s a shed.
I live in a shed with a tiny, uncomfortable bed.
How the hell did I end up here? Working as a bellboy and living in a shed? Oh, yeah, I shagged that Swedish princess, then took off before she woke up without so much as leaving a note. I stare up at the white ceiling and remind myself this is only temporary. Six month’s penance, then I’ll be free to go back to my real life.
But for now, I have to figure out the whole feeding-myself bit. And I need to go fess up to my landlady.
***
“Come in,” Brianna calls in response to my knocking.
I pull open the screen door and walk into the small but bright kitchen. Bree is standing at the counter looking very much as serious as she does at work. She’s got a list in front of her, a pen in her hand, and her face is scrunched up in that I’ve-got-the-weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders sort of way she has.
In the other room, I hear a children’s show coming from the telly. I glance over and see Dolores dozing on the couch while Isabelle hums along to the song and colours from her position kneeling in front of the coffee table.
Brianna gives me the same patient smile she gives guests at the hotel. “What can I do for you?”
“You know what? I can figure it out. I can see you’re busy.”
She sets down her pen and sits back. “Not at all. What do you need?”
“I was just going to ask where the nearest grocery store is,” I say, feeling foolish for bothering her. But her expression doesn’t say she’s annoyed. It’s sort of a gaze-into-my-eyes type look.
She swallows hard and shakes her head a little. “There’s a Goody Mart five blocks south, but it’s overpriced. I’m going to Superstore in a bit, if you want a ride.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I ask, unable to stop staring at her.
“Not at all. I’ll come out and get you when I’m ready.”
A large calico cat appears from under the table and trots over to me, then proceeds to rub against my leg.
“That’s Knickers. She loves everyone,” Bree says.
“Hello, Knickers." I crouch down to scratch behind her ears, causing a loud purring sound to start up. A second later, drool seeps from her mouth. Well, that’s a little gross, no? “Oh, dear. I’m afraid she’s leaking.”
Bree stands and takes a couple of tissue from a box on the counter. She hands me one, then wipes the cat’s chin. “Sorry about that. She’s a joy-drooler.”
