Let It Beatle

Love, Love Me Dude-2

Saturday morning, after making sure the complimentary breakfast was displayed to my satisfaction, I changed into a pair of old shorts and headed to the beach for a quick run. It was early and the sun was just coming up over the horizon. I had placed a sign at the desk to let guests know I’d be back in half an hour.

It was a little cool but not uncomfortably so as I set out on my three-mile run up and down the beach. It was how I kept in shape and kept the stress at bay. If a day was really bad, I’d go for another run at night, assuming I had the energy to do so.

I ran and ran, the sand beneath my sneakers yielding a little with each step as I kept a steady pace. I was the only one out here, and I knew this stretch of beach like the back of my hand.

On my third mile, a saw another jogger heading toward me. Curious, I kept on going until we neared each other, and I could make out Wheeler Ridley’s face. Great.

Just act normal. “Morning, Mr. Ridley,” I greeted him and kept on going. As I ran farther away, I realized the expression on his face had been peculiar, as if he was still trying to place who I was in his past. I also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he’d done of my body as we’d passed each other. That was weird. I put it out of my mind and finished my dawn run.

Once I was showered and dressed in jeans and a shirt, I went to the lounge to check on the food, replenish the coffee and make sure everyone was taken care of, those who were awake at this hour.

Mr. and Mrs. Gottfried were having a quick weekend escape, just because they could. Or at least, that was what they’d told me when they’d arrived yesterday morning.

“Good morning, Tory. This looks wonderful,” the missus said, and I thanked her.

“Planning to go into town today?” I asked. Most guests liked to check out the kitschy shops along with the beach.

“That was our plan,” said Mr. Gottfried. “Eleanor here wants to buy some souvenirs for our brood at home.”

“Well, you’ll find just about anything you desire. Have fun.” I smiled at them, then returned to the front desk.

Maury would be on shift around nine o’clock, which would give me time to finish some paperwork and stock the housekeeping cart with fresh linen.

A little while later, as I scrolled down the computer screen, the front door opened and I looked up. It was Wheeler. Schooling my face into a polite smile, I asked, “How may I help you, Mr. Ridley?” I noticed he’d showered and changed as well, and the light green cargo pants and white polo shirt he wore were an excellent foil for his skin, something I wished I didn’t notice. He had a pair of Aviator sunglasses dangling from his long fingers.

He walked up to the desk and leaned on the counter. “I know you, I’m sure of it. Where’d you go to school?”

“Small town.” I changed topics. “What can I help you with, sir?”

Wheeler studied me for a few seconds, and I stared back at him, my skin feeling hot and tight. Eventually he said, “I wanted to know if I could extend my stay a week. I’m checking out business opportunities around here, and I like what I see.” There was a hint of innuendo in the way he said that, but I let it go, since there was no way he could be gay. He’d screwed females in high school, after all.

Wouldn’t that be just lovely, having Wheeler around all the time? I hoped his search would be a bust. None of those thoughts showed on my face as I searched the system for availability. Damn it, I had an opening. I could lie, but I needed the business.

“You’re in luck,” I said with false cheer. “I’ll extend your reservation through next Sunday, if that works for you, with the appropriate fees, of course.”

“I appreciate that.” He gave me a smile that tried to melt my insides, but I willed them to remain ice-cold.

“Will there be anything else?” I asked, pretending to be busy with the computer so I wouldn’t have to look at him and give myself away.

When I didn’t hear a response after a few seconds, I glanced up and saw Wheeler watching me. “I don’t suppose you’d be free to have a drink with me this evening?”

My eyebrows arched in surprise. “I beg your pardon?” I must have heard wrong. He couldn’t…

“This is an LGBT-friendly motel, so I figured there was a high chance you might be gay, and single.” He smiled. “Am I wrong?”

“Um…”

“Not gay?” he probed.

“No,” I replied.

“Not interested?”

“You’re not gay,” I blurted, then pressed my lips together. i***t.

He laughed at that. “Uh, yes I am, since birth. I just pretended I wasn’t until I couldn’t ignore it anymore, in college.” He shrugged as if to say what can you do?

I digested his words in silence. That explained a lot, actually. “Well?” he prompted, eyeing me expectantly.

“Well what?” I replied.

“That drink?”

I decided prudence would be best—and safest—for my heart. “I don’t go out with the guests in my establishment. It’s unprofessional.”

“I see.” Wheeler tapped a finger on the counter, then stepped back. “I guess I’ll have to find a place to setup shop around here so we can go out on a date.” He winked at me, then left through the front door.

I felt like I’d been hit by a train.