Searching for a Heart, Page 2

  It meant she could keep all hints of her own personal situation out of the conversation.

  Still, nothing. Not even a nibble, no rumors to pass to her about other local openings, no gossip that there was a resort in trouble that would probably hire her in to fix things before ousting an ineffective GM who’d been botching it.

  Not that she thought she’d have an answer by the end of business today. Still, she’d hoped.

  Would have made life easy for a damn change.

  She retreated to her room. She lived in one of the one-bedroom efficiency suites on the third floor, meaning she had a small kitchen in her unit. Tonight she’d make a salad and top it with chicken breast. She’d been horrible about working out that week, and honestly? Her heart wasn’t in it tonight.

  Another benefit of the resort, it had a great workout room. Well, courtesy of it being one of the first things she’d renovated.

  You’re welcome.

  Tonight she needed a little self-care. A long, hot soak in her bathtub—with a strawberry-scented bath bomb, a gift courtesy of Joel and Fen’s honeymoon visit just the other weekend.

  The irony didn’t escape her that it was her gay male best friend who’d had to teach her the benefits of taking care of herself like this over the years. Educating her on bath and body products.

  Refusing to let her skimp on some things.

  Convincing her that she was worth it.

  Sometimes, she couldn’t remember that by herself, no matter how hard she tried.

  And as she sat there and soaked, the tears finally hit, hard and heavy. She’d worked her ass off, and all she really had to show for it was a “glowing recommendation.”

  Fuckers.

  She’d personally developed connections with tourist boards overseas in Europe and elsewhere, inviting them over for comped stays and helping them fall in love with the area. She’d instituted an aggressive social media campaign that had earned them valuable word-of-mouth advertising for literally zero cost in budget.

  It’d been her work putting together new room decors that looked good, looked classy, without breaking their budget.

  Added value.

  But they didn’t value her enough to keep her on to run the place.

  She wondered how long until the VC group bought Gonzales out, because she knew that was likely his endgame. Selling the resort out-right would have been difficult in today’s economy, but pulling in a VC partner wasn’t. Once they saw how to operate it and realized Gonzales wasn’t necessary to ops, it’d be easy for him to toss the management group a flat number for them to cash him out and tidy the bookkeeping.

  If the VC group was backed by foreign interests from Russia or Eastern Europe—which many of them increasingly seemed to be—they could be looking for a money laundering opportunity and a partner would only complicate things.

  It was that thought that finally helped her take a deep breath and calm down. Even if it turned out that, no, they were a totally legit and US-based company, she’d secretly hold on to the thought that they were a criminal organization and soothe her wounded pride with that.

  Fuckers.

  Maybe it really was a case of them wanting their own man at the helm. Especially if they weren’t on the up-and-up.

  Deep breaths.

  Up to this point, she’d thought the biggest worry she’d have would be searching for a man with a heart who could love her just the way she was.

  Now…now she needed to search for a whole new job.

  Chapter Two

  Rusty’s barbarian stepped up to the orc and swung his battle axe at it, not killing it, but getting in a damned good hit.

  Eliza’s war mage unleashed some pew-pew on the orc via Magic Missile, doing more damage.

  Still not killing it.

  Dammit.

  By the time Axel got around to Milo’s initiative number, more of his NPCs had taken their turns, and now their party was battling four orcs instead of the one, and the original one had taken a swipe at Milo and fortunately fumbled, dropping his weapon.

  Milo’s cleric cast Bull’s Strength on Rusty’s barbarian before turning his back to Eliza’s war mage to protect her six. He wielded the enchanted shield they’d looted from a cavern two game sessions ago. Which was two weeks ago in real time, and less than ten minutes in game time.

  They didn’t know exactly what the shield did yet, because all he’d had time to do was check it and find out, yep, it was magic—good alignment magic—and it so far had kept him alive by warding off hits that should have either seriously injured him or even killed him.

  Including possibly causing the orc’s fumble, but Axel wouldn’t reveal that information to them yet. They’d have to figure it out for themselves.

  Axel was about to call for them to roll initiative for the next round when his cell phone sounded, the wheezing sound of the TARDIS taking off filling the room.

  “Aaaaannnnd that’s a good place to stop,” Axel said with a smile. “See you all next Tuesday.”

  “Sadist.” Rusty looked close to pouting.

  Axel’s grin widened. “Your point being?”

  Skye knowingly giggled. She was Axel’s fiancée.

  Darryl’s teenaged son, Kyle, bid everyone good-night and left the room, heading for his own room. They played at Grant, Darryl, and Susie’s house every week.

  Eliza dropped her voice, her question directed at Axel. “You guys coming Saturday night?”

  Milo didn’t miss how both Skye and Axel glanced his way before silently staring at Eliza.

  He’d had enough of this.

  “Y’all do realize I know y’all are kinky and go to that BDSM club, right?” Milo softly asked. “It’s not exactly a secret to me.”

  Both Skye and Axel blushed, as did Mike Kennedy, Darryl, and Susie, but Eliza arched an eyebrow at Milo. “And?”

  “And it doesn’t bother me.” He tipped his head from side to side, trying to crack his neck. “Frankly, maybe I need to talk to y’all about helping me date. I’m striking out on my own.”

  Not that he’d been trying super-hard, since his divorce wasn’t final yet and he hadn’t wanted to drag someone else through that, but he definitely wasn’t having good luck.

  Eliza’s gaze softened. “Sorry. How is all that going?”

  “Final hearing’s Friday morning.” He closed his Player’s Handbook a little harder than he meant to. “Finally.”

  “How long has she dragged this out?” Rusty asked.

  “Too fucking long. Nearly two years now. Trying to stay on my insurance plan as long as possible. Judge finally told her he was done dicking around, and if she tried any more delay tactics, he’d hold her in contempt of court.”

  “She finally get all her shit out?” Grant asked.

  “I finally got all her shit out,” Milo said. “My brother and sister-in-law helped me go through the house and move everything four weeks ago. We waited until she showed up at her new place after work one day, backed the truck up to her front door, and unloaded everything into her living room. Bitch complained she wasn’t ready for it. Told her that wasn’t my problem. Judge took a swipe at her for that, too, that I didn’t have to do that. Reminded her that anything left after the official date in the agreement meant I could have sold it or burned it.”

  “I would have,” Eliza muttered.

  “Yeah, well, believe me, it crossed my mind. Except I can look back at all this with a clear conscience. She can tell her numerous boyfriends any lies she wants to about me, but I know the truth. That’s all I care about.”

  “So what are you doing Saturday night?” Grant asked. Of their triad—him, Darryl, and Susie—Grant was obviously in charge, even though Darryl was legally married to Susie.

  “Getting hammered,” Milo groused. “And burning a copy of our marriage license on the fucking barbecue.”

  “Come on out and have dinner with us,” Eliza said. “We’ll introduce you to friends. And you can come to the club with us after dinner.
If nothing else, you’ll understand some of our inside jokes a little better. We’ll come pick you up and even buy you dinner. Keep you out half the night.”

  Part of him wanted to say no, and had spoken up only because them walking on eggshells around him and John, who wasn’t even here tonight because of work, had finally stepped on his last nerve through no fault of their own.

  It was needing the divorce over with for good that had truly put him into this unusually foul mood.

  “Sure.” He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that. Been a long time since I’ve been able to go out and really enjoy myself.”

  “Uh oh.” Skye giggled. “I believe we’re looking at the next contestant for the Frightful Five. Come on down!”

  “The what?”

  Everyone else laughed, but it was the kindly, knowing chuckles of friends who, in some cases, had known him since high school.

  “You’ll see,” Rusty said. “Just be careful what you wish for, because Eliza and the gang will have you married off before you know it.”

  “Not sure I ever want to get married again. I just lost nearly half my fucking retirement due to that bitch playing me. She could have not asked for it and admitted she cheated on me, but no, because that would have been the human thing to do. Fucking community property, no-fault state.”

  “Sorry.” Eliza hugged him. “We’ll pick you up about six, but we’re volunteering this Saturday night, so it’ll be a late one. Closing’s at two.”

  “That’s fine. I need to get out of the house.”

  Skye offered him a hug, which ended up turning into a group hug with Milo firmly wedged in the center.

  “You realize,” Rusty said from somewhere, “that you just got made into a pet project, right?”

  Milo laughed. “Yeah. At this point, I’m so miserable, I honestly don’t even mind.”

  * * * *

  Nothing but an empty house to greet Milo when he arrived home thirty minutes later. At some point he’d look into replacing the furniture that she’d ended up with. Including a few pieces she hadn’t wanted, but he hadn’t wanted them either—because she’d picked them out—so she got them anyway.

  It would be nice to have a damn couch, though.

  Okay, so that’ll be the first thing I buy.

  He wanted to try them out first. Last one had been picked out by her, and he’d honestly hated it. Wasn’t comfortable to sit on or lie on, but she’d wanted it to go with their “decor.”

  At the time, he’d wanted to make her happy.

  Never again.

  Fuck that noise.

  He wanted to be able to stretch out and watch TV, or relax eating dinner in front of the TV, or have friends over to chat or play games, or whatever.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had people over to his house who weren’t family.

  She hadn’t liked having people in “her” space.

  Unless they were her friends…or she was fucking them behind his back, apparently.

  Or unless they were people she liked or approved of.

  Why the fuck did I put up with her again?

  Six years of his life was six years too damned long. Well, seven years counting the year they dated.

  Should’ve moved her in with me first before marrying her.

  He would never make that mistake again. He’d damn sure live with someone for a while first—after getting an iron-clad written contract of some sort from them—before he’d even think about marrying them.

  And if they didn’t want to sign a prenup, forget it.

  I’m going to be forty-three in three months and I’m basically starting over again.

  At least he was still young enough he could rebuild his retirement accounts. And with the judge done playing around with her bullshit, it meant his nightmare was almost over.

  Not liking dogs should have been a clue.

  He headed for the shower. He’d gone to gaming straight from work today. This morning he’d hit the gym before work. Usually, he went after work. That had developed both as a coping mechanism as well as an escape tactic.

  Had nothing to do with the potshots she’d taken about his waistline a few years ago.

  That was a lie he’d keep telling himself. Especially since now he wasn’t bad-looking for a guy almost forty-three—if the looks he was getting from men and women at the gym were any indication. Wasn’t that he’d been obese, but he’d admittedly been soft. In the years since he’d started working out five days a week, his weight had only dropped twenty-five pounds, but he’d converted his flab into muscle. Not a pumped bodybuilder, just a deceptively solid guy.

  Except it didn’t help him much in terms of dating, so far. Oh, he’d had a few dates with relatively attractive and interesting women who didn’t ping his emotional radar in the slightest. Not to mention the last thing he’d wanted to do was seriously buckle down and look for a relationship while still trying to get divorced. That wasn’t fair, to put someone else through his misery.

  Hence why he wasn’t too proud to talk to his friends about this tonight, now that the finish line to his divorce was firmly in sight and almost within his grasp.

  Was he kinky?

  Well, maybe not to their extent, but he was definitely a few steps shy of vanilla. He had a few…fantasies.

  Vanilla with sprinkles, perhaps. Was that a thing?

  He opted to rub one out under the spray, taking his cock firmly in hand and stroking. But on the tail end of his orgasm, he leaned against the shower wall with his eyes closed and tried not to feel so…

  Empty.

  His life, his heart…

  Even his damned house.

  He felt empty.

  Maybe I should think about getting a dog.

  Chapter Three

  Friday morning, Maddison was helping man the front desk because their computer network had gone down and their IT guy was scrambling to fix it. It wasn’t just the front desk impacted, either, but their whole system.

  Meanwhile, Mads was running their resort’s reservation system and processing credit cards with her laptop and a data hot-spot through her personal cell phone. She’d raced back to her office when she’d received the panicked call from the front desk, realized her browser was still on the resort’s admin login page so she had the web address for their portal, and she was able to access it with her own login…which unfortunately meant whoever was using her computer had access to everything.

  Meaning until their tech guy got the system’s Internet connection and network problem fixed and got them back online, her ass was tethered to the front desk so they could keep checking people out and in.

  Housekeeping was also a mess right now, because the head of housekeeping hadn’t printed their daily sheets yet when the outage occurred. But the woman found old pre-computer forms in her file cabinet, photocopied them, and adjusted the department’s procedures on the fly so as not to delay turning rooms over ahead of a busy weekend. The restaurants had gone old-school, keeping paper tabs to charge tickets to rooms once the computers came up, or accepting cash only for those not staying on-site and sending customers to the ATM in the lobby to get cash for their bill.

  At least it was something to take Maddison’s mind off worrying about the guy who was supposed to be arriving sometime today.

  The new manager.

  Her damned replacement.

  Figured it’d be today of all fucking days, their busiest check-in day of the week. The universe wasn’t even allowing her to keep her damn dignity. Nope, had to be a fubar of all fubars, while Darren was up to his armpits in the server closet trying to figure out why they had no Internet connection and no network.

  Gonzales didn’t have the new guy’s name to give her, but the man would know to ask for her. She also hadn’t told anyone what was going on yet. She’d been asked to keep that quiet, for now.

  Sure, why the hell not? She didn’t want to jeopardize her severance package—and Gonzales had sent her the promised follow-up e-mail d
etailing everything he’d discussed with her on the phone.

  Yes, including a glowing letter of recommendation outright stating if it was up to him, he’d keep her on as GM, but that his new partners wanted their own person in place.

  That meant she had it in writing.

  It also meant she’d pull on her big-girl panties and keep them—and her professional smile—firmly in place, even though inside she was torn between a mixture of wanting to rage and cry her eyes out.

  I should call Fen tonight and tell him what’s going on.

  She needed to vent.

  Maybe he wouldn’t tell her parents.

  Then again, maybe pigs will fly.

  She kept holding on to the hope that Gonzales had signed on with some international criminal enterprise and would regret letting her go.

  Maybe not the most mature way to approach it, but it was better than envisioning revenge fantasies of wiping all the computer records before her last day on-site.

  Resetting the keycard system to key all rooms the same, or not let anyone’s key cards work.

  Scrambling Housekeeping’s records.

  Setting the grounds’ sprinklers to run in the middle of the day.

  Set all the elevators to always return to the very top floor and stay there, even in peak usage times.

  Changing the prices on all the top-shelf liquors to twenty-five cents a shot.

  Put parental lock codes on all the satellite channels except for PBS…

  No, no no. Bad Mads.

  Of course she wouldn’t do any of that. She was a professional.

  Still, it gave her a little bit of evil satisfaction to imagine doing it.

  And of course a literal busload of seniors from some retirement community up near Tampa chose that moment to arrive, when they weren’t supposed to be there until at least three. Hell, she didn’t even have any way of knowing if their rooms were ready yet or not.

  Terrific.

  That meant an extra level of frustration for everyone, having to keep radioing head of Housekeeping to find out what rooms had been turned already, if they hadn’t been vacant the day before.