Chapter Five
Jordan
A few hours earlier…
I climb out of bed. Removing the condom, I tie a knot in the end and toss it in the trashcan. Grabbing my jeans from the floor, I start to pull them on.
“Stay in bed with me.” Shawna’s hand sneaks out from under the cover and grabs hold of my hand, tugging on it.
I pull it free. “Can’t. I’ve got work to do. And I need to get this bed made up.”
That’s a lie. There’s not a lot to do here at the moment. We need guests to create work, and currently there aren’t any, so the world won’t end if this bed stays unmade for a while longer. I just don’t want to stay in bed with her and cuddle.
Because that’s what she’s asking. She doesn’t have to say the exact words. I just know when it reaches this point with a woman.
And that’s when I’m done.
I’m not a cuddler.
I fuck.
The end.
She knows this. I told her right before we started having sex how it was. Like I tell them all. It’s just a shame they don’t bother to listen, regardless of how heavily I highlight the fact.
Guess it’s time to put the brakes on this little thing we’ve had going. Shame. She was pretty good in the sack.
I’m just pulling my t-shirt on when she climbs out of bed.
I watch her walk toward me. I might be about to call time on her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate her fine body – legs that go on forever, and tits that are definitely not real. Still, I wasn’t complaining when I had them in my mouth ten minutes ago.
She presses herself up against me. Arms snaking around my waist, she starts to kiss my neck. “I want to fuck again,” she murmurs against my skin.
Tempting as that is, just knowing what’s going on inside her head—the words ‘Jordan’ and ‘boyfriend’—keeps my boy at bay.
You might think I’m a bastard for just having sex with her and then calling time, and really that wasn’t my intention when I crawled into bed with her an hour ago. I’d thought there were a few more times to be had.
Until she wanted to get cozy with me.
I usually end these things in a much nicer way, but trust me, it’s crueler to let her leave here thinking I’m going to call her again when I’m not.
I’m always honest, if nothing else.
Reaching behind me I take hold of her hands. Pulling her free from around my waist, I squeeze her hands, then let go.
I step back from her. “Look, Shawna, it’s been great an’ all … but I’d say we’re done here.”
She pauses. Frowns. Then gets this crazy look in her eyes that some chicks get when they realize you’re ending things with them.
The stage five clinger look.
“Done?” Her voice has gone screechy.
Fuck.
I really didn’t have her pegged as stage five clinger material when I met her. Guess I got that plenty fucking wrong.
I could really do without a crazy chick moment right now.
Here we go…
“Shawna…” I rub my forehead, and drive my fingers into my hair, pushing it back. “We both knew what this was from the beginning. I was clear on that. It was never gonna last longer than a few weeks, and we’re already well past that.”
“It’s been a week, Jordan.”
Fuck, is that all? Feels way longer. Definitely time to get rid of her.
“Look…” I put on my best ‘sensitive, but I’m still ditching your ass’ voice. “It’s been fun, Shawna. You’re fun. But it’s time to move on.”
With a look straight from the devil, she grabs her clothes from the floor and starts yanking them on.
“Fun? FUN!” Her screeching is actually hurting my ears. “I thought we had something really great here! I thought you really liked me!”
See what I mean?
Never.
Fucking.
Listen.
“When did I say that? Oh yeah, never. I thought you were hot, and I definitely wanted to have sex with you – multiple times. But feelings never came into it. Not once. And no fuckin’ way do I want a relationship.”
Ouch. That was probably a bit harsh.
She steps close and pokes me in the chest with her fingernail.
Fuck, that hurt. Her nails are sharp. They felt good when they were raking down my back, but now, not so much.
“You’re a fucking bastard!” she yells in my face. “And you’re going to spend your whole life lonely and miserable!”
Wow, so original – like I haven’t heard that line before. Why do all women say that exact same thing when you’re blowing them off?
Trust me, I’m not miserable. Far from it.
Seeing what my dad’s gone through … loving Mom, then having to watch her die … seeing how my dad is now … an empty shell of the man he was…
That’s misery.
I’m never putting myself through that. I’ll stay as I am, thanks.
When it comes to women, I put my dick in and keep my heart out. It’s the easiest way.
I lean down, close to her face. “Shawna, you knew from the beginning I wasn’t in for anything more than a fuck, so don’t act all shocked and shit on now. You knew exactly who you were getting into bed with.”
Why do all women think they can change me? I’m unchangeable. When will they get this?
“Fuck you!” she screams. She actually screams at me.
Jesus Christ, I cannot stand dramatic women. Nothing turns me off quicker … well, apart from cuddling.
“Isn’t that the point?” I smirk, stepping back. “You want to fuck, and I don’t.” I sweep my arm out in the direction of the door. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, sweetheart.”
I’m not usually this much of a dick, but honestly, she’s getting on my last fucking nerve.
Shawna looks as if she’s ready to pummel me to death. Bending down, she grabs her heels, shoves her feet in them, and grabs her purse from the nightstand.
“You’re going to regret this,” she hisses.
“Not likely.”
“Asshole!” She pushes her way past me, and stomps out the room, slamming the door behind her.
I hear her heels clattering down the hall, then the main door slams shut. A minute later, her car engines revs loudly, and spinning tires kick up against the gravel.
Well, that went well.
I run my hands through my hair, then go and grab some clean sheets from the linen closet.
I strip the bed and have it remade in two minutes flat.
Can you tell this isn’t my first rodeo?
I have sex in the hotel rooms because I don’t like to share my bed. I want to go to sleep without the scent of sex lingering from the last girl I hooked up with. And for some reason, the girls I hook up with seem to think it’s romantic to have sex in a hotel room.
Couldn’t be less so in my opinion.
But they think that, so it works well for me. This is when living at a hotel comes in handy.
I bundle the dirty sheets up in my arms to take to the laundry room.
Guess it’s time to find a new fuck buddy. First things first, though. Shower, then food.
I’m starving.
***
I’m just biting into my sandwich when the phone rings. Putting it back down on the plate, I grab the phone off the wall, quickly chewing and swallowing down my bite. God, that’s good. I make a great fucking sandwich.
“Golden Oaks,” I say, cleaning sandwich off my teeth with my tongue.
“Jordan, it’s Beth.”
I sit back down in my seat. “Beth, I know it’s you. I’ve known you my whole life, so it’s safe to say I recognize your voice on the phone.”
She laughs. “Fair enough. Anyway, I’m just calling to let you know I’ve sent a tourist up your way.”
“Ah, great thanks. You’re good to me.”
“I know I am. Too good. And Jordan, the tourist is a girl. And she’s pretty, real pretty. So just try to keep it in your pants, okay? Your dad needs the business, and screwing the guests, then screwing them over, just doesn’t bode well with that.”
“Jesus, Beth! One time. One fuckin’ time it happened! And she never told me she was married.”
“One!” She laughs. “Angry husband’s aside, I can count off the top of my head at least ten women you’ve had hissing at you this past year, and it’s only July.”
“Ten? Come on that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
She laughs, once. “I was being kind with that figure.”
I do quick math in my head.
Okay, maybe she’s right.
“Whatever,” I mutter. “I’m actually a little insulted you think women leave here with not one good word to say after a ride from Jordan Matthews.”
“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person, it freaks me out when you do that. And yes, once you stick your dick in a woman it doesn’t end in a song of happiness. You’re awesome at the wooing. Just not the ending.”
“I don’t woo. We’re not in the nineteenth century. I fuck. And I’m awesome at it. Hence why women keep coming back for more. And can you stop talking about my dick? You’re actually starting to turn me on, and that’s freaking me out.”
“Ugh, god! Okay, we’ll end the conversation here. Just leave the pretty tourist alone.”
“You seem overly pushy on this one. Are you warning me off for another reason? Maybe because you want her for yourself?”
“Jordan Matthews!” she scolds, making me laugh. “One, she’s not into girls. I could tell. And two, she’s too pretty if you know what I mean.”
“No. I really don’t,” I deadpan. “There’s no such thing as too pretty.”
“Yes, there is. There’s the kind of pretty that comes with a warning label. This girl is trouble. Look, I have to go. The diner’s busy, and Mom is shooting me daggers from up front. Just be good, for me. And if not for me, your dad. He could really do without the hassle after everything that’s happened.”
My back stiffens.
Her stark reminder is like a sharp slap in the face. Probably one I needed.
“You’re not saying anything … did I overstep the mark?” she says softly.
“No.” I sigh. “You said what I needed to hear. I’ll be good, I promise.”
“I’m only looking out for you because I love you, you know that.”
“I know. And you’re the only woman who can say that to me without sending me running.”
“That’s because I haven’t slept with you.”
“And that is because you, Beth Turner, are one smart girl.”
“Yeah. That, and the fact I’m a lesbian.”
I chuckle. “Well, yeah. That too.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, I hear a car pulling up the drive. It’ll be the hot tourist.
I’m going to show Beth that I’m completely capable of keeping myself in check around a pretty girl.
I am not ruled by my dick.
And anyway, just because Beth thinks she’s pretty doesn’t mean I will.
She could be fuck ugly. Or at the very least, a butter face.
Nah. Who am I kidding? If Beth thinks she’s pretty, then I definitely will. We have the same taste in women.
A few minutes later, I hear the bell ring on the main door.
Showtime.
I haul my ass out of the chair and start to make my way upstairs. As I’m climbing, I hear her voice call out.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Jeez, give me a minute,” I mutter.
I take the rest of the stairs two at a time, quickly moving through the office, out to the reception desk, and…
Fuck me.
Fucking. Fuck. Fuck.
The hottest chick I have ever seen in my life is standing before me.
The.
Hottest.
Ever.
Beth calling her pretty was an understatement. A massive understatement.
She’s stunning.
And I’m so completely screwed.
It’s weird though because I usually go for tall girls. I like long legs, but this girl is tiny. I’d give her five-three max. At six-two, I’m almost a whole foot taller than her. And her tits are smaller than I usually prefer.
Her hair is blonde and short. Pixie cut. She kind of looks like Tinker Bell. I usually dig long hair on chicks; something to wrap my hand around while I fuck them.
But this girl, who is pretty much the opposite of everything I usually go for, has made my dick as hard as stone just by looking at her.
Never. Happened. Before.
I usually need them to be naked, or to at least have a little hands on action first.
She’s like the world’s best visual hand job.
Seriously, I think if she just lays a finger on me I’ll jizz my pants, and that hasn’t happened since seventh grade when I was with Katie Harris in the sports closet. Two tugs and I was done. Not one of my finer moments, but in my defense, Katie was the first girl to touch my cock.
I’m just thanking my good luck right now that this reception desk is high enough to hide the massive boner I’m sporting.
“Hello,” she says. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips.
Jesus, she has the sweetest looking mouth. The kind of cherry red lips you want to suck on. The kind of lips I want to see sucking me off.
I only wish I could see her eyes. Eyes are my other thing aside from legs. I like them big, but she’s wearing huge ass sunglasses. I hate it when women do that. It’s sunny, you wear sunglasses. Not at eight in the goddamn evening.
Realizing I haven’t spoken a word in reply, and have done nothing but stare at this girl for an insane amount of time, I find my voice and ask, “How can I help?”
There are a few different ways she could answer that question. One involves her telling me to bend her over this reception desk and…
“I, uh, need a room.”
Jesus, her voice is as sweet as light molasses.
My dick twitches, pulsing hard against my, now, incredibly tight jeans.
I need this hard on to disappear.
I can do this. My dick does not rule me. I’m in control here.
Think of being some chick’s boyfriend, Matthews. The stage five clinger from earlier…
And there you go. Down boy.
Hot girl steps close to the counter and sets her bags to the floor.
She smells good. Like a mixture of vanilla and expensive perfume.
I want to lean in close and inhale.
And possibly lick her.
She moistens her lips again before speaking. It’s really distracting. “Beth, the girl at the diner in town? She sent me here. Said you’d have a room available.”
I pull my eyes from her lips and stare into those ugly ass sunglasses. All I get is my own reflection back. Which is not a bad thing, I just really want to see her without them on.
I wonder if she’d be offended if I reached over and pulled them off?
Clearing my head and throat, I say, “We do. How long do want to stay for?”
“Um.” She tilts her chin down and shifts on her feet. “I’m not sure … two weeks?”
Two weeks. This is just the kind of money we could do with right now. If I can keep my hands off her that is.
“Are you asking or telling me?”
Wow, I sounded like a complete asshole then.
She looks uncomfortable.
And I feel like shit.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Her hand reaches up and starts to pull on her lower lip – it’s actually kind of hot watching her tug on that lip. It’s definitely turning me on again. Okay, so again is probably the wrong word since I haven’t been ‘off’ since I laid eyes on her.
Letting go of the lip that I most certainly want to suck on, she folds her arms. “I want to stay for two weeks, and I’m asking if you have a room available for that long?”
Forcing my eyes from her, I look down at the booking sheet.
Like I have to check. Of course I have a room free for two weeks. We don’t have another booking coming until next week, and that’s the Perry’s who stay every year for their anniversary. I just needed a reprieve before I do something stupid, like hit on her.
God, I want to hit on her. So bad.
Clear your head, Matthews. No hitting on the hot tourist.
You can do this.
Right. I’ll put her in Lakeview. It’s the most expensive room we have. And the nicest. The kind of room a girl like her should stay in.
And judging from the flashy Mercedes I can see parked outside, I’m guessing she can more than afford it.
Also, it’s the one room I haven’t had sex in. Not that it matters in regards to her, but Mom and Dad spent their first night as a married couple in Lakeview. That’s why I steer clear of it.
“We do,” I say. “It’s one hundred and seventy five a night.”
“That’s fine,” she replies. She doesn’t even blink.
Like I thought. Loaded. I wonder if it’s Daddy’s money, or maybe she has a husband?
She doesn’t look old enough to be married, but who knows the ages of women nowadays. Earlier this year, I banged a chick who looked twenty, but she was thirty. The marvels of plastic surgery.
I give a quick check to her ring finger. Empty.
Picking up a pen, I mark out the week. I pull out a booking form from the drawer for her to fill out her details, then slide it across the counter to her, putting the pen I was just using beside it.
“Fill this out with your name and home address.”
She picks the pen up. I notice her hand is trembling. Odd. Is she nervous, or afraid?
Not a damn reason she would have to be afraid, so I’m betting on nervous.
Now why would a hot girl like her be nervous around me? Only one reason. She wants a piece. They always do.
Hey, I’m not an arrogant ass. I’m just aware of how I look. And most women like how I look. Okay, all women like how I look. It’s the hair and tattoos. They like the bad boys, and I’m bad. What can I say?
But this girl is not worldly. I can tell. This one is inexperienced, hence the nerves. Maybe she’s a virgin.
Nah, she can’t be a virgin looking like she does.
She finishes filling out her details and hands the paper back to me. Her fingers brush mine in the exchange. She snatches her hand back like touching me is a big no-no.
Odd. Women usually can’t wait to get their hands on me.
I glance down at her name on the paper in my hand.
Mia Monroe.
Huh. Like Marilyn Monroe, but not.
I didn’t just say that out loud, did I?
I cast a glance at her. She’s staring off toward the living room.
No, don’t think I did. Thank fuck for that.
“I just need your card details and we’re done. Your card won’t be charged until you check out.”
“Okay.” She bends down to her bag. I take the opportunity to lean over the counter and check her ass out.
Nice. Real nice.
I shouldn’t have looked because I’m getting hard again.
She comes back up with her card in hand.
I key the amount in and hand the card device to her.
“Put your card in … and now your PIN.”
I take the device back and wait for it to ring through.
When it’s done, I pull her card from the machine and hand it back to her.
I notice she takes care not to touch me this time.
She shoves the card in her back jean pocket. For a moment, I actually wish I was that card.
I grab the key for Lakeview and step out from behind the counter. “This way.”
She reaches down for her bags and sluggishly lifts them to her shoulder. That’s when I realize how tired she looks.
Here I am checking her out like a total douche, and the girl is exhausted. I feel like a complete tool. My mom raised me better than this.
“Here let me get those for you.” I hold my hand out to take her bags.
She hesitates. Her fingers curl around the handles, gripping them tight to her.
What does she think I’m going to do, run off with her stuff?
Retracting my hand, I scratch my head. “It’s my job to carry your bags. We’re not the kind of establishment that has a bellboy.” I grin so not come off as an asshole. She is a paying guest after all.
Her death grip relaxes and she lifts the bags from her shoulder, placing them in my hand.
“Thank you,” she says in that sweet voice of hers.
She doesn’t talk much, but when she does … it’s effective.
Then she smiles.
I called her stunning before. I take it back. With that smile, she’s nothing short of beautiful.
I don’t think I’ve ever referred to a woman as beautiful before. Now, there’s a first.
If she can look this beautiful with those huge hideous sunglasses covering what I imagine is the best part of her face, then I can only imagine how she looks without them.
And how she would look under me.
Naked.
I sling her bags over my shoulder and stride off in the direction of Lakeview.
You can’t have sex with her, Matthews.
My dick, of course, disagrees. Yeah, my dick is absolutely positive that I could screw this chick for two weeks straight and not get bored once.
Who am I kidding? I’d get bored after a week. I lasted that long with Shawna, and she had a huge rack and legs that went on forever.
But even with those assets, she was nowhere near as hot as Mia Monroe.
Hot or not. I don’t have the staying power. And right now, money is more important. And proving a point to Beth, of course.
I come to a stop outside Lakeview. I unlock the door, turn the light on and go inside, setting her bags on the bed.
When I turn back, I see she’s still standing out in the hall.
Everything about her body language screams tense. My eyes flicker to her hands. They’re trembling again.
What is wrong with this girl? I thought it was because she was hot for me, but no, it’s not that. It’s something else.
She wraps her arms around her chest and straightens her back up.
With care, I walk toward her. She steps back to let me pass.
“Your key.” I hold it out to her, leaving a distance between us.
Freeing a hand, she takes it from me.
And now it’s me making sure not to touch her in this exchange. Even though I want to, something tells me that right now I shouldn’t.
“Breakfast is served between seven and eight-thirty.” It’s on me to make breakfast tomorrow as it’s Paula’s day off. Paula is both our cleaner and our cook. She’s worked here ever since I can remember.
“And we don’t do evening meals, but there are plenty of restaurants nearby,” I add, remembering the remainder of my spiel.
“Are there any other guests staying here?” Her voice sounds small.
I turn back to her. “No. Not until next week. Until then, it’s just you and me.”
The look on her face throws me for a loop. She looks terrified.
What the hell? Jeez, it’s not like we’re the Overlook Hotel.
“Don’t worry. It’s totally safe out here,” I feel compelled to say. “We have a great alarm system, and I have a shotgun. You know, just in case.” I wink as I laugh.
At the mention of a shotgun, her body stiffens and she looks like she’s about to bolt.
Or puke.
Okay, I’m guessing that was the wrong thing to say.
“I’m totally kidding, I don’t have a gun here.”
That’s a bit of a lie. We do have guns. My dad used to be a cop, so he still has shotguns, and rifles for hunting. I know how to shoot. I’m pretty good. Dad taught me when I was a kid, but I think it’s best if she doesn’t know that.
I lift my empty hands, palms facing, placating. “No guns. I promise. No need for them. Like I said, it’s a safe place.”
She pulls on her lip again. Then runs her fingers around her ear, tucking her short hair behind it. I see that her hand is trembling again.
“Are you okay?” I take a small step forward.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t sound it, but I don’t press it. It’s none of my business.
“Okay, well if you need anything, just press reception on the phone in your room, and it’ll bring you straight through to me. Goodnight, Mia.” I step back, ready to leave.
Her brows knit together. “How do you know my name?”
Damn, I should have called her Ms. Monroe, but something about her feels familiar like I should always be calling her Mia.
And now I sound like a stage five clinger.
Awesome.
“I got it from your details when you filled the form in.” I smile.
“Oh, right. Yes.” She laughs a little sound, and it hits me straight in the chest, leaving a tingling fullness there.
What the hell?
“What should I call you?” she asks.
There are a million different ways I could answer this, none of them clean.
I lean my shoulder against the wall and push my hand into my pocket. “Jordan.”
She turns and mirrors me, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Is this your hotel, Jordan?” My name sounds amazing on her lips.
I let out a laugh. “No. My dad’s. He’s away taking care of my Grandpa at the moment, so I’m holding the fort.”
“Oh, nothing serious I hope?”
“No, just a minor op, but he’s off his feet for a few weeks, so Dad’s gone to take care of him.”
She nods her pretty head. “Well, thank you. Again.” She smiles once more before disappearing into the room.
The door shuts. I hear the lock click.
I lean back against the wall.
So I have a very hot, nervous one minute, friendly the next, chick on my hands who I cannot have sex with under any circumstances.
Should be interesting.
Feeling unsatisfied … but satisfied that my only paying guest is settled for the night, I push off the wall and head downstairs to feed my other guest.
He’s actually more of a resident than a guest. Guests usually leave, but he’s been a permanent fixture here for over a year now.
He makes for a great alarm system, but he’s slobbery and hairy, and the only one I’ve ever let sleep in my bed. He’s a mouth we could do without feeding, but when he turned up at our door a starving puppy just over a year ago, I couldn’t turn him away. So we kept him, and now we have a dog. A huge fucking dog.
I go to the kitchen and get his clean bowl off the drainer. I grab a can of his favorite food from the pantry and empty it into the bowl. Jesus, this stuff stinks. I mix in his biscuits just as he likes and call for him.
“Dozer, dinner’s up.”
I hear his huge paws pound against the floor as he makes his way from our private living room down the hall.
He comes barreling through the open kitchen door and straight into my legs, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Jesus Christ, Dozer!” I growl, steadying myself on the counter.
With a grunt he sits by the backdoor with a dopey look on his face.
“Bulldozer.” I laugh, shaking my head.
I pick up his bowl and cross the kitchen. On the way, I grab a beer from the refrigerator.
I turn on the outside light and open the back door, letting Dozer out. I set his bowl on the step, and his nose goes straight in it.
I sit on the step beside him and take a swig of my beer.
“We’ve got a guest, Dozer, and she’s hot, really hot, but flighty, so no sniffing round her as we don’t want to scare her away. And your ugly mug would definitely scare her.”
Dozer lifts his head, gives me a dirty look, and grunts.
“What?” I chuckle.
Then he farts.
“Fuckin’ hell, Dozer!” I bury my nose in my arm. “You stinky bastard! I bet you did that on purpose! There’s no way you’re sleeping in my bed tonight after that!”
I’m trying not to laugh because laughing means inhaling, and that dog’s farts are killer. Seriously.
Dozer shoves me hard with his head, knocking me to my side. He starts climbing on me, nudging my head with his wet snout.
“Get off me, you crazy fuckin’ dog!” I’m breathless, laughing, which means inhaling, and now I’m gagging. “Jesus, Dozer, you stink! Okay! Okay! I take it back, you can sleep in my bed! Now get the hell off me!” I shove at him.
Satisfied he’s won, he climbs off me and goes back to his food.
Sitting, I pick up my beer. “Crazy ass dog,” I mutter, chuckling.
I take another swig of beer, and lean back on my hand. I stretch my legs out and look up at the night sky.
Tonight is going to be a long night, knowing I’ve got Sex Goddess upstairs, in one of my beds, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. And the only person I’ll be sharing a bed with tonight is Dozer and his farts – awesome.
I bet Mia sleeps in those sexy negligées. The see through kind. Without any underwear.
Goddamn it to hell! It’s going to be a long two fucking weeks.
I’m going to have to find someone else to keep me busy for the time Mia’s here to ensure I keep my hands off her. Someone uncomplicated and easy. Won’t be hard to find. There are always plenty of girls here vacationing with their families, bored and in need of entertainment.
The kind of entertainment I’m perfect at providing.
I’ll go up to Mountain Resort tomorrow and find myself a new fuck buddy.
With that thought in mind, I go inside to take a cold shower to get me through the rest of the night.