“You don’t have to rush away,” Quinn told her as he helped her maneuver the cart into the bungalow.
“We had someone call in sick today, which is why I’m delivering food. I need to get back to that.”
She went over the order, then held out the bill for him to sign.
“Tadeo is one of your clients?” she asked.
“I found him singing at some dive club in Riverside. He owes me everything.”
Quinn was joking about that last part, but Tadeo looked up and nodded. “I do. The man even married me.”
Courtney raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you played for both teams.”
Tadeo sniggered. “No. I mean he married me to my wife. She thinks you’re gay, bro. That’s a good one.”
“Isn’t it just?”
Courtney looked between them. “You’re allowed to perform marriages?”
“Only in California. I took the online class and I have my license. You could tell Sienna.”
She laughed. “I’ll be sure to mention it.”
Tadeo sighed. “Leigh and I were married on the beach at sunset.”
“Here we go,” Quinn murmured. “Next he’ll start crying and then he’ll go call her.”
Tadeo glared at him. “It was a beautiful day.”
“It was,” Quinn agreed.
“Leigh was stunning.” Tadeo sniffed. “I’m going to call her and see how she’s doing.”
“Probably for the best. Tell her you’re sorry.”
Tadeo held up his left hand, middle finger extended, but what Quinn heard before Tadeo closed the bedroom door behind him was “I’m sorry, baby. You still mad at me?”
“Have they always been like that?” Courtney asked.
“They have a passionate relationship that defies description.” He took a step toward her. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“I know. It’s been crazy. But soon?”
He took another step and was about to pull her close when he heard Wayne and Zealand approaching outside the door.
“Soon,” he told her. “Make that very soon.”
Courtney worked the room service shift for two days. The pace was different than she was used to. There would be periods of inactivity when she would help out in the kitchen, then a flurry of orders would come in and she would be running all over.
The hotel was already ramping up for the busy summer season. July Fourth was less than a month away, which meant lots of vacationers coming to Los Lobos. The extra staff had been hired. Courtney was scheduled to train the temporary maids the following week. Servers would be added in the restaurant and bar. Her friend Kelly had been promoted to lead server.
Courtney dropped off a bottle of Drama Queen pinot grigio to room 312, then went downstairs and out into the cool evening. It was barely eight, so the sun was a few minutes from setting. She admired the reds and oranges staining the western horizon. The air smelled of ocean and barbecue. A seagull flew overhead. She let the calm wash over her.
These were the parts of her day she always enjoyed, those few minutes of peace between bouts of crazy. Although it was late enough that she would probably have only another half dozen room service deliveries for the night.
She found herself heading toward Quinn’s bungalow. Not that she was going to knock or anything, but if the man happened to see her and invite her in...well, it would be rude to say no. She was still smiling at her slightly twisted logic when she rounded the corner of the hotel and saw him sitting in one of the patio chairs. He pulled the side table up close. As she watched, he played a couple of chords on the guitar he held, then made some notes.
He wore jeans and a ratty T-shirt. He was barefoot, slightly mussed and totally hot.
As she got closer, he looked up and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said. “The guitar really works for you. But you already knew that.”
“I’ve been told.” He motioned to the chair next to his. “You can keep me company until your next delivery, if you want.”
She sat down. “Thanks. It was a busy dinner service tonight.” She touched the guitar. “What are you working on?”
“A couple of songs Tadeo brought me. He has good ideas but can’t finish a song to save his life. I clean them up and flesh them out.”
They’d talked about this before. How he did more than simply discover talent and push buttons in a recording studio. But she still had a hard time grasping the extent of his involvement with his artists.
“I didn’t realize you played guitar.”
“Piano, too. You can thank Joyce for that. She insisted. Music lessons started when I was about five. At first I hated them, but then I got good enough to do more than practice scales. When things were difficult with my mom, the lessons and practice gave me a place to escape.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Joyce put a piano in one of the small rooms on the ground floor. I would go practice there every day. I’m sure the guests in the nearby rooms loved that.”