“Is this the only hotel in Clancy?”

I look up in shock at the door. I could have sworn I locked that door. It’s ten o’clock at night, and my brain is going in circles. I’ve watched enough true crime television to know leaving my door unlocked in the middle of the night is a recipe for disaster.

“I believe so, yes,” I answer, looking around the counter for a weapon. He doesn’t look like an axe murderer, but then again, I’m not sure what one would look like. He’s got a beard, some crazy looking tattoos on his arm, and he’s tall and wide—kind of like my cousin White who plays football, only a little more dangerous and less good ole boy from Texas.

I see a box of paperclips. Can you kill someone with paperclips? They’re the large ones, so maybe I could stab his eye out… God. I’m pathetic. What kind of idiot doesn’t have some kind of weapon in her desk?

“That’d be my luck,” he growls, and his growl does sound dangerous. I frantically look one last time for a weapon and finally decide on the stapler. I know it’s pitiful, but it’s all I have.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, trying to nonchalantly pick up the stapler in my hand and grip it.

“I have a reservation.” He sighs out the words like they’re being ripped from his soul and steeped with regret—which kind of pisses me off. I mean, the place doesn’t look great, but I’ve done a lot of work, and it’s not open for another two weeks—thanks to the electrical inspector.

“I’m sorry. I’m not open for two weeks. You must have the wrong place,” I tell him sweetly.

My grip has eased on the stapler a little. He’s probably not an axe murderer, so at least there’s that. He’s just someone who is afraid he’s here to stay in my hotel. Which is understandable. I’ve sunk every dime I have into the place, and there’s times at night when I cry because I’m here. Still, he’s kind of rude about it, and that makes me want to hit him with my stapler anyway.

“I’m early. It’s there if you look. Aden Mc—Aden Smith,” he says.

I frown. Okay, I realize there are reasons people check into hotels with the last name Smith. He doesn’t seem to have a woman with him, however, so I doubt he’s hiding from jealous husbands. It’s not my problem, though.

“I recognize the name, but it’s not until the twenty-sixth, and as I said, we’re not open yet,” I explain.

I look down at the hotel registry as if there are a million bookings—which is laughable. There’s only this guy, and I doubt many people will be knocking down my doors to book this place in advance. Still, a girl has to have hope.

The irony that my name is Hope does not escape me. My mother had a twisted sense of humor when it came to naming her children.

“Well, I’m early,” he replies.

“I see that. It’s just that we’re not opening for—”

“For another two weeks, I heard you the first time. However, I’m early, and I need a room. Since you’re the only hotel in the area, we’re stuck,” he answers, as if he’s explaining things to a small child.

I grip the stapler tightly again. I wonder if it would hurt business if the owner gets arrested for hurling a stapler at the head of a would-be guest. I’m guessing it might. Damn it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t accept guests until after I pass inspection. That’s why when you called, I specifically informed you that I would not be open for—”

“Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” he says abruptly, walking towards me. He struts long stealthy strides that look angry. I have no doubt his walk is meant to intimidate, because it does.

“Stop!” I order him without taking a minute to think about it.

He does stop, however—mid-step.

“Listen, why don’t you quit angling here, and name your price,” he demands, then immediately starts walking toward me again.

I hold up the stapler as if it was a weapon that was about to save the world from mass destruction.

“I think you’d better leave.”

“The nearest hotel I’ve passed besides this shithole is about three hours away, and I’m too damned tired. How about you be a nice little girl, hand me a room key, and let me crash?”

“I think maybe we have a language barrier, so I need you to listen, and I’ll speak slowly so you understand. We. Aren’t. Open.”

“Name your price.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said name your price, lady. Everybody has one, and from the looks of this place, you definitely do. So how much to rent this place a couple of weeks earlier?”

“I can’t—” I begin, but my mouth snaps shut quickly when he lays out a roll of hundreds on the counter. I actually drop the stapler. It crashes onto the counter with a loud clanging noise causing me to jump. I can’t make myself look away to see if it’s destroyed.

“That’s twelve hundred dollars for your crappy room for one week. I doubt you’ll find that anywhere else, do you?”

“But we’re not ready for business. I haven’t had my final inspection,” I tell him again, trying to ignore his insults. The rooms aren’t great, but they’re much better than what they were. He’s just an asshole.

“I won’t tell if you don’t. So, do we have a deal?” he asks in a manner that sounds like he fully expects me to agree.

I wish I could tell him to stuff his money, but the new air conditioning and wiring I have to get done before the inspection is a reality. This money and the money for the following week would pay for that. I can’t afford to say no… no matter how much I really want to.

“Twelve hundred for this week… and twelve hundred for next?” I question him.

I hate the look of victory that comes over his face. “Yes.”

“Fine. The rooms aren’t completely ready, but I’ll give you our best one. It’s mostly finished, and the air conditioning works well in there,” I tell him, and okay, I’m kind of lying. The air conditioning does work, but sometimes the breakers blow if you use the receptacles in the bathroom. This guy looks haggard as hell, though. I doubt he knows what a blow dryer is, and that’s really the only thing you use in the bathroom, right?

“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” he mocks as I grab the key to room number seven. Seven is supposed to be a lucky number, but considering I’m contemplating picking my stapler back up and bludgeoning my new tenant with it, I have a feeling it’s not lucky at all for me.

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