Chapter 17

Aisha came out of the janitor closet, wrestling with the steam cleaner’s hose and humming under her breath. There was nothing she liked better than being able to get down to work with no people in the way. The artists’ retreat—such a raving success that the group had already booked the same slot for next year—behind them, Aisha planned to take full advantage of the upcoming, slower week. She was going to steam clean each unit’s area rugs and furniture—well, not the leather pieces, obviously. She had a great environmentally friendly product for taking care of the leather.

She exited the small hallway into the main body of the dining hall that should’ve been empty this time of day—and felt the presence of someone before she even registered the motionless shadow.

“Miss me?”

Aisha shrieked and pressed a hand to her chest. “Asshole! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Tsk, tsk, such language from such a pretty mouth.”

Colton was leaning against the wall, one leg stretched out, one knee jutting, foot pressed against the wall—as ever, in such a “strike a pose” manner that Aisha was sure he did it for effect. There was nothing casual about Colton’s “casual” poses.

“What are you doing here?”

He grinned, straightened up, and took a step toward her. “Waiting for you, of course.”

Aisha twitched angrily. “Stop that and tell me why you’re really here.”

Colton’s eyebrow rose and he gave her an intentionally lingering full body glance. “Even the hired help gets a rare break,” he said cheekily. “We have labor laws to thank for that—and it’s a good thing they exist because your uncle and my bro are two of a kind, unfortunately. They’d work twenty-four hours a day if they could.”

Aisha must’ve looked blank.

“I thought your uncle—or Jase—would’ve told you.”

Aisha dropped the steam cleaner’s nozzle, all her plans for a vigorous, productive cleaning day dampened. “Told me what exactly?”

“I accepted.”

His words made absolutely nothing clearer. “Accepted what?”

“The job, of course. I’ll be your five days a week schmuck from here on out.”

Aisha narrowed her eyes. Did Colton seriously think keeping regular hours was something to disdain? What an idiot. It was uncharacteristically poor judgement on Jo and Callum’s part, actually. It’s not like she’d been keeping an eye on him full-time or anything, but it was transparently clear if you weren’t a complete sucker. Colton showed up to work only when he wanted to, regardless of what the person paying his wages might need. He put mediocre effort—and that was generous—into whatever he tackled. He had no pride in a job well done.

“I’m not sure what you think that has to do with me. I just work here.”

“Right.” Colton winked. “Anyway, I wanted to reassure you. I feel our chemistry too, but it won’t affect my work or my . . . reliability.”

“Are you high?” The question sounded sarcastic, but she wasn’t joking. She didn’t know Colton, but she knew his type. It would be just like him to get stoned for work. “Whatever you’re feeling, I guarantee it’s not mutual. I actually liked it better when you were a deadbeat temp who didn’t show up for work—if one can fairly call what you manage to get done in a day work.”

Colton grinned like she’d complimented him, but then his cocky expression was replaced by something that looked like bashful remorse. He bowed his head and looked up at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I can come off as sort of a jerk. I don’t mean to. It’s a bad habit when I’m feeling insecure—and you’re so . . . amazing. You can’t blame me for feeling out of my league.”

Uh huh. Insecure. Right. Aisha didn’t buy the line—or his flattery—for a minute. Next thing he’d be telling her that he’d never known anyone like her and she was so unique and so special and so beautiful—and that pretty much from the moment they’d first met, he’d known they were meant to be together, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Okay, maybe she was getting ahead of herself, not to mention projecting, just a bit, but that minor detail didn’t change the facts. Colton was a lot like Evan. She’d noticed it right from day one—and his type would never take her in and use her like a fool again.

“I’m not sure why you’re in here talking to me. Jase is in charge. You should be reporting to him.”

“You’re right. I’ll do that.” He gave a sharp salute and ambled off. Leaving as—and when—requested was about the only thing Colton could’ve done that would possibly surprise her, and she had to force herself not to stare after him.