Taking a swig from his beer, he headed to the back of the main lodge and flipped on the porch light. The spotlight was glaringly bright, and three cabins came into immediate view—Pop’s, Brenna’s old cabin, and his. He headed for Brenna’s and opened the door.
It was empty inside. There was a small coffee table that was so beat up that it had either been picked up at a yard sale or gifted from Miranda’s mother, who ran a junk-slash-antique store in downtown Bluebonnet. There was a narrow twin bed, which was currently stripped of all linens.
And that was it. No television, no phone, no nothing.
Brenna was a hurricane of a mess when it came to the office, but when it came to her own personal space, she lived like a Spartan.
It didn’t make sense.
SEVEN
Inspiration struck at unusual times, but whenever it hit, Brenna always gave in to it.
It had been days since she’d pranked Grant. Absolutely days and days. He probably thought he was in the clear now that they were having sex.
How very wrong he was, she thought with a grin as she headed into the lodge, yawning at the early hour. It was barely six in the morning, and she’d be the first one in. Which was perfect, really. It’d give her enough time for her newest prank, and she couldn’t wait to see Grant’s reaction.
There was nothing better than shocking the hell out of that man. Well, other than ha**ng s*x with him. Shocking him was a very close second, she amended.
When she went into the lodge kitchen, however, she was surprised to see that Rome was already there, a big bowl of cereal in front of him. He wore a plain black shirt, the collar slightly ragged with wear, the sleeves tight enough to show off his rather impressive tattoos.
He stiffened at the sight of her, the look on his face flashing guilty for a moment, then defensive. “The guys told me I could eat here,” he said. “The food was for the employees.”
“It is,” Brenna said. “Calm down. I’m not here to steal your Cheerios.” She headed past him to the pantry and opened it, searching the shelves. She’d seen that look on Rome’s face one too many times—heck, she’d lived it. It was the look of someone who was scrounging a meal and had been caught. From her drifter days, Brenna knew that when money was lean, you sometimes took food and apologized later. And it told her a lot about Rome.
Mainly, that he was flat-ass broke and desperate.
She found the item she was looking for—a roll of foil—and grabbed it, then headed to the breakfast bar and sat down across from Rome as he ate. As he did, she opened the foil roll and began to tug the long sheet open, studying it.
Rome scarfed another bite of cereal, then asked, “Are you baking?”
“Nope. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m about the opposite of domestic.” She scrutinized the sheet of foil and asked, “Do you think this will cover a telephone?”
Rome stared at her. “A telephone?”
“Yeah, Grant’s phone. I’ve been letting him have it easy for a few days, so it’s time to wake him up again. I figure that a nice, festive desk covered in foil will do the trick, but I’m not sure I have enough.”
“Foil?” The corner of Rome’s hard mouth tugged up in a reluctant smile. “Will you get in trouble?”
“He’ll probably want to kill me for about five minutes,” she told him. “And then he’ll be so turned on that he’ll want to sex me a million times during the day. I figure it’ll even out.”
Rome’s face was carefully neutral and he picked up his cup of coffee. “So, uh. Not sure if there’s a polite way to ask this, but I saw you and Grant kissing the other day. You’re sleeping with your boss?”
“I’m sleeping with our boss,” she corrected.
“That . . . doesn’t make it better.”
“We do things a little differently around here,” Brenna said in a light voice, tearing off the sheet of foil. “Like, for example, we hire the newest instructor and don’t ever bother to check his credentials.”
He froze.
Brenna waved her sheet of foil at him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell on you. I hired you because you looked like you need the money.”
After a long, long moment of consideration, Rome told her, “I do.”
She nodded. “I thought I recognized it in your face. You have any survival experience at all?”
“I’m a fast learner.”
Yeah, that wasn’t what she asked. But she only said, “I figured. That’s why I hired you. We take care of our people here.”
He said nothing.
Brenna guessed she’d made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t a surprise. He seemed intensely private. Time for a distraction. “I do need to ask you a favor, though.”
His jaw flexed, and his features looked hard and unyielding, his expression guarded. “What’s that?”
“If you’re working with the paintball equipment—which I suspect you will be—I need you to break some of it on a regular basis. For Pop.”
The look on his face told her that hadn’t been what he’d expected her to ask. It also seemed like he thought she was more than slightly crazy. She didn’t care.
“Excuse me?” Rome asked politely, his manners at odds with all those piercings and tats. “I’m not certain I heard you correctly.”
“You did,” Brenna told him. “It just sounds weird. Basically, Pop is Colt’s dad. He needs a job but won’t take charity, so we hired him to be the handyman around here. Except that we’re a small business, so he runs out of stuff to fix pretty fast.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “So I break lots of things around here to keep him busy.”
“I can’t decide if that’s crazy or sweet.”
“Story of my life,” Brenna told him with a grin, sliding off the stool. She tucked the roll of foil under her arm and fluttered the sheet at him. “Now I’m off to go cover a man’s stapler, phone, and desk in foil.”
“Don’t forget his chair,” Rome called back at her.
He was going to fit in just fine, she decided. Brenna set to work and five minutes later returned to the kitchen, shaking the empty roll of aluminum foil at Rome. “I barely covered his phone before I ran out. I need more foil, stat. If I give you the keys, can you run to the grocery store and grab me all the foil they have?”
“You trust me with your car?” He looked surprised.