Chapter Eleven
The One with The Time Jumps
Juliet
Three Weeks Later
I WAS BORED.
Beyond bored.
So bored, I was voluntarily working ahead on my schoolwork. Sitting on my bed with my computer, I flipped through my remaining assignments and sighed when I realized I couldn’t do anything else yet. I closed it and got onto my knees, moving the curtain aside to look out the window.
Still raining.
Damn.
I walked into the sitting room and knocked on the door.
Cole opened it. “What’s up?”
“I’m bored.”
“Want Ash to give you more math?”
“God, noooo ,” I drawled dramatically. “I said I’m bored not that I want to be so bored, I’ll die.”
He half-smiled. “What do you want?”
“To do something. I feel all fidgety.”
“It’s still raining.” Holding the door with his body, he gestured out. “Want to walk around the house?”
Surprisingly, I didn’t.
With the exception of some off-limit areas, I’d already been around the house a bunch. Gorgeous room after gorgeous room had been exciting the first few times, but the appeal had faded fast.
I preferred my area to the rest of the house. It was the first time in my life I had my own space—even if temporarily.
Sometimes, late at night when dark thoughts took root and wove through my brain, I wondered if they were even keeping me locked in anymore.
Or if I was doing it to myself.
“Will you show me the forbidden rooms?” I asked even though I knew the answer.
“No. Want to use the gym?”
“Yuck, definitely not.”
He chuckled. “Media room?”
I shook my head and hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got movies here.”
“Yeah, but not the big screen with recliners and popcorn.”
“Still not active enough.”
“You’ve gotta give me a little more to go on.”
“I want to… I dunno. Draw. Knit. Mess with clay. Hell, I’d try macramé and I don’t even know what that is. I just want to do something.”
He didn’t make fun of me or roll his eyes that I was asking a big badass to procure arts and crafts supplies. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The door closed and, since desperate times called for desperate measures, I grabbed my iPad and played some of the math games Mr. Reed had recommended.
Nothing about math was fun and games, but at least it took my mind off my boredom for a while.
Or, like, fifteen minutes.
I switched to iBooks, but nothing grabbed me, so I turned on the TV and flipped channels.
When I was sitting on the couch with my legs up the back and my head hanging upside down off the cushion, the door opened again.
“You really are bored,” Cole said, setting two loaded plastic bags against the wall.
In my excitement, I sat up so fast, my head swam. “I just do it for the sweet, sweet headrush.”
“Man, if you think that’s a headrush, wait until you try tequila.”
“Is that an offer of a shot or ten? Extra lime and salt, please,” I joked.
“No thanks, I don’t feel like getting shot today.”
“Huh?”
“He doesn’t even like you having caffeine. If I gave you liquor, he’d shoot my kneecaps.” He bent and extended his leg. “And I like my kneecaps.”
“I thought Ms. Vera was the one limiting my caffeine.”
Not only did Cole not respond, he avoided looking at me.
Ah, just like old times .
I got the feeling sharing any info was a big no-no. Taking pity on him—and not wanting to return to being ignored—I let it go. “I bet I’m more of a pina colada gal anyway.”
He still didn’t speak, but he did shoot me a half-smile. Holding the door with one foot, he reached into the hall for more bags.
Can’t they do anything half-assed?
I flung my hand toward the purchases. “I just wanted a thing of yarn or some colored pencils or something. I didn’t need all this.”
He shrugged. “Now you’ve got options. Yell if you need anything else.”
What else could I possibly need?
When he left, I pulled everything out and lined it up, hoping inspiration would strike. There were a dozen yarn bundles of different textures and colors, knitting needles, and some hooky thingies of various sizes, plus a couple adult coloring books with colored pencils and gel pens.
Going for the yarn, I grabbed the brightest color and two of the needles before loading a beginner tutorial on YouTube. I discovered how much fun it was to create.
I also discovered how incredibly, horribly, horrendously unskilled I was.
Still fun, though.
_______________
Two Weeks Later
Geared up in a pretty pink halter bikini, my flip-flops, a ton of sunblock, and a floppy hat, I hefted my tote up my shoulder.
Since my period was finally done, it was time to hit the pool. To be fair, thanks to Ms. Vera’s recommendation I start the pill, it had been the best—or maybe least bad—one I’d ever had. However, I’d still spent nearly a week on the couch with the heating pad.
I was ready to swim until my muscles ached before sitting in the hot tub until I turned to goo.
I knocked on my door and backed up.
“Yeah?” Marco called from the hallway.
“Swim time!”
“Okay,” he said, but the door remained closed.
I waited a couple seconds longer before asking, “Can you open the door?”
“Open it yourself.”
Shit, what’d I do to piss him off?
Marco may not have been as friendly as Cole or Ash, but it’d been a while since he’d been a jerk to me.
“Please, can you open the door?” I tried.
“Open it yourself,” he repeated.
“I’m just trying to go swimming.”
“Juliet.” And that’s when I heard it—a hint of amusement. “Open it yourself.”
My heart kicked into overdrive, hammering in my chest.
I’d already lost the men tailing me like prison guards. They weren’t even stationed outside my door. I was on my own, free to go anywhere but the off-limit rooms. But in order to take advantage of that freedom, I first needed to be let out.
Permanently unlocking my door would be major.
My breath froze in my lungs as I reached for the handle. It whooshed out in a weird squeal when I easily pulled the door open.
Marco was standing outside my door. “Took you long enough.”
“It’s unlocked now?”
He lifted his chin.
“Like, from now on?” I asked.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
I watched him storm down the hall, put his thumb to a lock, and head into the room.
He’s all bark and… okay, he’s probably all bite, too. But it’s not aimed at me anymore, so whatever.
Hiking my tote up my arm, I hightailed it to the pool and hot tub.
I was total goo by the time I returned to my unlocked room.
Maximo
Three Weeks Later
“Get this area cleaned up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Walking slowly through the kitchen at Moonlight’s buffet, I checked every corner and crevice. My chefs and staff didn’t mind the health department’s inspection, but they loathed mine. I was a hardass when it came to cleanliness, order, and image.
Heading out of the restaurant, I knew the other kitchens would be spotless by the time I made it to them. Whoever I hit first tipped the rest off. I didn’t give a damn so long as the job was done.
“Maximo.” Serrano jogged over to catch up to me. “How bad was it?”
“Some clutter and spills. Not bad.”
“Did you put the fear of God in them anyway?”
“No, I put the fear of me in them.”
He chuckled. “How’re things for Friday?”
“Georgie says it’s going smooth,” I said, referring to Star’s Tournament Director. “Rooms are ready, tables will be set up Thursday night, kitchen and bar orders have been adjusted for the influx. Registration is already full.”
The poker tournaments tended to be easy.
A few bickering fights, a few accusations of cheating, and a few small-town big shots who thought they deserved the VIP treatment.
Other than that, people played cards, collected their winnings, and then hit up the tables and slots for the fun of gambling rather than the competition.
My cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text from Cole.
Cole: She wants a keyboard. A musical one, not the computer kind, so I’m no help.
I couldn’t hold back the small smile that tipped my lips.
Juliet liked to create.
She’d crocheted—badly, according to the men. Her knitting had been even worse. Coloring books had been a mild success, though the bar had been set low.
Despite her lack of ability, she had fun. Which meant I’d give her whatever the hell she wanted.
Me: Then get her one.
Cole: Given her track record, I’m getting the kind that hooks to her headphones. Because if she’s badly bopping some Backstreet Boys shit, I’m off guard duty.
Me: Unless she’s time traveling back to the late nineties, I think you’re safe.
Cole: What?
Me: Backstreet Boys are on the oldies stations now.
Cole: Shit.
I pocketed my phone and turned back to Serrano. “Call me if anything comes up, otherwise I’ll see you this weekend.”
I walked through the other restaurants and the food court in Moonlight.
And just as I knew they’d be, all were spotless.
_______________
A Week Later
Looking up at the knock on my door, I called, “Come in.”
Marco opened the door and came in. “Keyboard ain’t her thing, boss.”
I wasn’t surprised. While she’d used the art supplies for hours, the keyboard had gone untouched after the first day.
“She want lessons?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Apparently listening to music is more fun than trying to make it. She’s worried about pissing you off, so she said she was going to work at it.”
His displeasure was clear.
Even after being there as long as she had, she was still skittish. She walked on eggshells. Worst of fucking all, there were times when she braced like she was preparing to get hit. Like she had experience with that.
And I was willing to bet her piece-of-shit father was to blame.
I’d long ago stopped wondering why Juliet didn’t hate me for killing him. The more I learned about her life before me, the more it made sense. One day when she trusted me, I’d make her tell me everything.
And then I’d dig the bastard up and find a way to kill him again.
“Tell her we can return it. No harm, no foul,” I said.
“On it.”
“Has she said what she wants next?”
He shook his head. “I get the feeling she thinks she’s pushed it enough already.”
“Find out and get it for her.”