Be My Guest

By Marcia Alice Lorraine

Nestled in the picturesque village of Skaneatles, New York, The White Rose Inn is home to Amanda Cochran and her daughter Kristen. Amanda is an organized, independent business woman, happy and content with the status quo of her existence. Little did she know that meeting Jack Shannon, leading Hollywood heartthrob, would turn her safe little world upside down and sideways as the result of doing a favor for her daughter. In spite of all her attempts to remain sensible and down-to-earth, Jack manages to send her off the deep end, leaving her constantly treading water in an effort not to succumb to his charms. Within a matter of weeks, Amanda is forced to evaluate her life, reassess her relationship with her daughter and come to terms with her feelings about her past with ex-husband, Seth and a possible future with Jack. Be My Guest invites you into the midst of a quirky, seductive relationship between two people who werent looking for loveuntil they tripped over it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468532463

Marcia Alice Lorraine

Author, Marcia A. Lorraine, lives in Utica, New York with her husband, where she enjoys her retirement by writing, cooking and spending time with her six grandchildren. She has made many visits to nearby Skaneatles, the setting for her novel. The spark for “Be My Guest” developed from her love of the quaint village and wonderful flavor of the Fingerlakes area.

Book preview

ONE

Patience has never been one of my virtues. I hate lines and I hate crowds. My Christmas shopping is done by October 1st so I can avoid crowded malls and traffic jams. I won’t wait more than thirty minutes to eat in any restaurant. Yet I found myself in a crowded line one Saturday morning at the new Fingerlakes Cinema, waiting to get an autographed celebrity photo for my teenage daughter. Why is it that mothers will do things for their kids that they would never do for themselves? I had gotten up just slightly after the crack of dawn, driven thirty miles and still found a line of crazed women ahead of me, all for the sake of making my sixteen year old daughter, Kristen, happy.

After all it was I who had insisted that Kristen get a weekend job to start saving for college. It was I who instilled in her a sense of responsibility to not ask her employer for time off on a busy weekend. As a result, it was I who was standing in this line like a groupie idiot to get the signature from a movie star who probably wouldn’t have been here either if he hadn’t had a contract to promote his latest action film. The real clincher was that this guy was old enough to be her father and I didn’t even allow my daughter to watch most of his movies because they were rated R. As a collector of autographs, she had everything from sports figures and singers to politicians. That was her thing, collecting signatures from famous people. Why couldn’t she have a normal hobby like stamp collecting?

I had wasted two hours standing outside the cinema waiting for the doors to open. It took another hour for the Star to show his face. After another thirty-five minutes in line, Jack Shannon, star of stage and screen, was almost in full view. He was smiling, nodding and signing photographs, being his charming self. I had to wonder if he was acting at this point or if he was enjoying himself as much as it seemed. It was shameful the way these women were fawning over him by asking him for a kiss on the cheek and fumbling for words at the very sight of him. This guy was not that hot. In fact as I got closer, I thought he was rather ordinary looking in real life. Real life as opposed to screen life? He was real even on film after all. Now I was wondering what I was going to say when it was my turn.

Please, God, don’t let me act like an idiot, I muttered under my breath as the woman next to me bumped into my back almost making me lose my balance.

"Can you believe it’s really him?" she squeaked.

I could only shake my head in utter disbelief that she was about to lose it over this guy. If I were him, I would have feared for my life at this point, even with the four men that looked like bodyguards standing close by.

Soon, there were only two women in front of me and I was already feeling relief that this whole experience was almost over. I could hear his voice as he laughed and flirted with the women in front of me, who it turns out, were together and were gushing simultaneously to him about how great all of his movies were and how they just loved his last film. Get a life!

Finally, I was up to bat. Before I could open my mouth he was writing unfelt terms of endearment on a photo. He looked up at me and asked, And what is your name lovely lady?

Oh, brother, I thought as I answered, Amanda, but please make that out to Kristen. It’s for my daughter. I wanted to make sure he knew I wasn’t one of his drooling admirers.

He smiled, Oh really? I detected a chuckle behind that grin.

That’s Kristen with a K, I said not acknowledging the disbelieving tone in his voice or the glint in his eyes, which I now noticed were the deepest shade of brown I had ever seen. She had to work. I’m doing this as a favor to her. Autographs are not my thing, I added in my own defense.

His smile widened. Is that so? My, my, what a terrific mom. You deserve something special for such a sacrificial act. Are you sure you wouldn’t like one of these for yourself? He was tauntingly sarcastic. I couldn’t believe he thought I was lying like some shy, star struck highschool girl.

What would I possibly do with that?

That smile must have been permanently glued to his face, because it was still there and the corners of his eyes were starting to crinkle with amusement. He finished signing the photo with a flourish and handed it to me. There’s a kiss that goes with this. Are you going to get that for your daughter, too?

How about we just shake hands, and I won’t wash until I pass it on to her? Two can play at this game, I thought.

He laughed out loud and grabbed my hand firmly and gently, not shaking only caressing it. Before I could withdraw it, he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. I prayed that I wasn’t blushing. Have a wonderful day lovely lady, he said in parting.

Thanks, was all I could manage.

Within twenty minutes of leaving the mall, I was at Cooky’s, the restaurant I owned in my small hometown of Skaneateles in upstate New York. The staff was already busy preparing for the lunch crowd. My establishment might seem small in comparison to some of the chain eateries in the surrounding areas, but Cooky’s held its own against the best of them. I had learned to limit my menu and keep things simple, yet elegant. My chef, Carlos, specialized in light gourmet cooking. The presentation was exceptional and we had a great reputation, along with a lot of return customers.

Being the end of May, the summer season was just beginning for the village of Skaneateles. Summer brings the area to life with campers, resort residents and sightseers looking for all that vacationing on a lake has to offer. I was expecting a banner year and looking forward to the bustle of the summer after a lagging spring season.

The past winter had been unseasonably mild resulting in a lack of customers for the nearby ski areas. I kept myself busy cleaning, painting and trying out new recipes during the winter weeks and opened the restaurant only on weekends until March.

Of course, I always had a steady business from the Skaneateles residents year round. Today was no exception. By four o’clock I was already turning down reservations for dinner. I often toyed with the idea of expanding, but in the back of my mind I knew I liked things just as they were. Never bite off more than you can chew, was some of the best advice my father had ever given me. I became a basket case whenever I had to work under too much pressure. By the time I reached thirty-five, I had learned to say to no to everyone except my daughter, Kristen. Since her dad and I split up, I was especially careful not to deny her my attention as much as possible.

My ex-husband, Seth, had taken a powder when Kristen was only six and now after ten years, I couldn’t honestly say that I missed him, but I think Kristen still wished she had a dad around.

At five o’clock my evening hostess called in sick. That meant I would have to fill in tonight. I grabbed a quick bite in my office, kicked off my shoes and tried to relax for an hour. I always kept a change of clothes in the office, which was upstairs from the restaurant. I relied on a plain, sleeveless, black crepe dress. It worked the best and was easy to accessorize. I kept a few scarves and a variety of neckwear in my desk to try and change the look slightly. A pair of plain, black dress pumps, broken in to the perfect degree of comfort, were stored in the bottom drawer of my file cabinet.

The lunch crowd was mostly local businessmen and women today. I thought I also recognized a few faces from the line at the cinema earlier that morning. I always enjoyed chatting with the regulars and keeping abreast of local news. Cooky’s lunch menu allowed for simple, good tasting food in less than forty minutes for busy working customers. We did a lot of take out orders for local shop owners who only had a couple of employees and couldn’t spare a body away from their shops for an hour at a time. I even had one of my busboys set aside time between eleven thirty and one thirty to deliver sandwiches and bottled drinks.

After such an early morning and busy lunch time, I ended up dozing off after things slowed down. A catnap turned into an hour and I groggily dragged myself from the leather sofa in my office to do some bookwork at my desk.

I had propped Jack Shannon’s picture up against the desk lamp so I would have it close at hand when Kristen stopped by to pick it up after she got off work. No matter how I tried, I could not concentrate with those brown eyes staring at me every time I looked up. It was taking me twice as long to post figures with Jack Shannon grinning at me. For crying out loud! I muttered to myself, as I slammed his face to the desk.

By the time I caught up my ledger work, the dinner hour had begun. I could hear from the bustle downstairs that business was beginning to pick up. I headed to my tiny upstairs bathroom, ran a comb through my hair and put on some lipstick.

As I headed down the stairs a party of six was entering through the front door. I recognized one face immediately. Jack Shannon. He was surrounded by his entourage of bodyguards and one other man I hadn’t seen this morning at the mall. Terrific. I just hoped he wasn’t one of these fussy, hard to please, Hollywood types. I already knew he had an attitude. I took a deep breath, put a smile on my face, sucked in my stomach and walked confidently toward them.

Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Cooky’s. Jack was standing in front of the group looking me straight in the eye. Before he could speak, I turned towards the dining room saying, This way please, and ushered them to a large, round table in one corner of the room.

After they were seated, I proceeded to get their drink orders, leaving Jack for last. I kind of liked the fact that he had to look up at me when he spoke.

I’ll take whatever you have on draft, he said.

Imported or domestic?

Domestic.

Light or dark?

Dark.

Would you like your mug frosted? I asked, smiling into those brown eyes, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

Only if you promise to do it personally. A smile of recognition crossed his face. We met this morning, didn’t we?

"How nice of you to remember, there were so many others."

"It’s not often I encounter someone who waits hours in line not to get my autograph. How’s your daughter? Did she like the inscription?"

She hasn’t seen it yet. We both had hectic work schedules today. Maybe she’ll stop by before she goes out tonight.

So she’s as hard working as her mom? She must be quite a girl. Have her come over if she stops in. I’d love to meet her. Was this guy really daring me to come up with a daughter that he was sure I had made up?

How generous of you. I could not believe the arrogance of this guy. The rest of his group was watching this encounter as if it were entertainment. They were obviously amused at the tone in my voice and the tease in his. Someone will be right back with your drinks, I said directly to Jack, meaning, someone other than me as I have no intention of returning to this table, pal.

Five minutes later, I was back at his table, carrying a tray full of drinks. My waitresses were so busy I couldn’t get anyone else to serve his party. So far, no one had noticed that

Cooky’s had been graced by the presence of the talented, handsome, Jack Shannon. I was sure he would have welcomed all the attention he could get since he seemed to enjoy being noticed so much. I tried to serve the drinks with a smile on my face, making sure to serve him last. The round table provided just enough room for me to stand between Jack and the man next to him without actually touching Jack’s shoulder as I leaned in to put his beer directly in front of him.

I hope you enjoy this, I cooed, not really meaning it.

He raised the glass as if to check the color of the brew took a sip, exaggerating the process of tasting and gave a satisfactory nod.

Perfect. The only thing more perfect than this beer, is the fact that it was served by such a lovely lady.

I couldn’t take much more of this drivel. That’s the third time today you’ve called me that.

I didn’t know you were keeping track. I’m flattered, he replied, sounding a little too smug.

I would have thought a man in your profession could have memorized more than just one line. The others chuckled and I was encouraged that I had scored so well.

Perhaps, he said without acknowledging my retort, I am simply left speechless by your beauty and charm and I can’t for the life of me figure out why such a vision of loveliness is waiting tables and running errands for her… . daughter. Our eyes were locked and he was daring me for a response with such a mocking look that I took the bait like a starving trout.

Actually, Mr. Shannon, I said softening my voice and leaning close enough to almost whisper in his ear while still loud enough for the whole table to hear, "it was six years of waitressing that earned me enough money in tips for a down payment on this place. I happen to be the owner. And just because you have been so charming, not to mention amusing, dinner is on me tonight. I hope you enjoy every bite."

It was so gratifying to leave him speechless. The smile on my face when I walked away was truly sincere. I managed to avoid his table for the next hour while they ate dinner. I made sure that Jack’s table had perfect service. I did whatever it took to make sure his table was served by anyone other than me. Unfortunately, as acting hostess I had the task of asking how the meal was before dessert was served. I gathered my strength for what I was sure would be round two and approached the table. By now, it was after seven and the pianist was playing dinner music in one corner of the dining room. There was a small dance floor that would accommodate about eight couples, should anyone be inspired by the music, which was usually soft and romantic to fit the atmosphere.

Well, gentlemen, I said perusing the table without looking directly in Jack’s direction, how was everything? I hope you were all satisfied with your choices and that you’ve saved room for dessert.

They responded simultaneously with nods and sounds of pleasure. Had I not made the mistake of looking directly at Jack at that moment, I probably could have escaped without further incident.

Actually, he said leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, I don’t think I am totally satisfied. And, he continued before I could ask why, I don’t think I will be until you dance with me." He was already starting to stand up and I found myself backing away slightly to avoid being so close to him.

I can’t do that, I said as he took my hand to lead me to the dance floor.

Why not? He turned to face me and we stood only inches apart.

Because, I’m the owner. I can’t be dancing with my customers during dinner.

Of course you can. Owners can do whatever they want, unless… . you were just kidding about being the owner.

My frustration level was peaking. "I am the owner, and I don’t want to dance."

Can’t dance, eh?

"I dance very well. In fact I am an excellent dancer. I just don’t want to dance with you."

Prove it. He dared. I glanced back at his friends nervously. We were attracting attention at this point. The men at Jack’s table were smirking and smiling, thoroughly enjoying their leader’s antics. Jack noticed it too, and used the fact to his advantage.

I’ll get down on my knees if I have to, he threatened. He had mischief in his eyes, but I knew he was serious.

My head snapped immediately back in his direction. "Don’t you dare!" I hissed as softly as I could in my severest tone, which only made his smile wider. The look on his face told me he would do it in a heartbeat.

All right. All right. I growled, grabbing his hand and towing him behind as we wove our way through the other dinner tables to the dance floor. As soon as we hit the hard wood floor, I turned to face him assuming the dance position.

He was quick to respond, holding me closer than I wanted him to as he whispered in my ear, You are an eager one, aren’t you?

Eager to get this over with. I moved stiffly in his arms as the pianist played, "It Could Happen to You".

You really need to relax. You’re much too tense.

It must be my reaction to your overwhelming personality.

No, that would be sexual tension.

Excuse me?

Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. It’s been there from the first moment we met.

Oh, please! You are so full of yourself. Are women usually receptive to your transparent passes?

He laughed and held me even tighter. You are obviously in denial of your true feelings. I think we need to see more of each other so you can work through this phase of our relationship.

Really, I laughed, and when would that be?

Well, I don’t have a lot of time. I have to be in New York to do a spot on the Today Show on Monday morning. How about breakfast?

We’re not open for breakfast.

I was thinking of something a little more intimate. Say… . your place. Do you serve breakfast there?

I couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. He should have been wearing a sign that said, Warning-Obnoxious Male, or better yet Warning-Obnoxious Horny Male. It would please me to no end to give him a taste of his own medicine. I must have been in the first stages of PMS or something because I began to plot just how I would set him up for a great big fall and enjoy every minute of watching him take the plunge.

Actually, I said making my voice sound as sultry as I knew how, since I hadn’t had a lot of experience at that sort of thing, I do serve breakfast at my place on occasion.

This time I was doing the baiting and he was about to bite.

Just what would it take to get an invitation to breakfast at your place?

About one hundred fifty dollars, I said trying to keep an even tone.

He pushed me away slightly to look at my face as if he had heard me wrong. I beg your pardon?

Oh, you don’t have to beg, Jack. You have to pay. Cash. Up front.

You’re not serious. His voice had lost some of its playfulness.

That’s the way it works. You want to stay, you’ve got to pay. Everyone else does.

The music was ending and I could tell by the look on his face that he was flabbergasted. Score two for me. Hopefully, this would shut him up and I could get back to my work. I excused myself before we got back to his table and made the rounds to the tables of other customers. I made sure to glance his way several times just to let him think I was interested. He still had a puzzled look on his face. I was feeling very pleased with myself to say the least. I was sure he would be hitting the road as soon as he could gulp down his coffee.

It was almost eight o’clock when Jack’s table finally called for their bill. I reminded the waitress that the meal was on the house and asked her to relay the message. I watched her as she spoke to Jack and nodded to him when he looked my way. He and the others got up to leave and I was looking forward to bidding them all goodbye. It was then that Kristen walked in.

Hey, Mom. Did you get it?

Get what? I was still distracted by Jack’s approaching group. Oh, the autograph, yes, I did. Then it dawned on me that I was going to get the chance to zing him once more before he was out of my hair for good. I needn’t have bothered waiting in that line for an hour and half if I had known he’d be eating dinner here tonight.

Kristen’s jaw dropped. What do you mean? He was here? When? Her voice was beginning to squeak and she gripped my arm in suspense.

"Not was… . is . . . he is here right now. Just look to your right."

She held her breath as she slowly turned her head.

Jack reached the hostess table about that moment to be greeted by my gawking daughter. I jumped at the opportunity to get in my last digs.

Mr. Shannon, I hope you and your friends enjoyed the evening. I found it quite entertaining myself. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, I continued, Oh, and I’d like you to meet my daughter, Kristen. Kristen, this is Jack Shannon. He looked at her, then back at me. My expression was appropriately smug.

He never missed a beat. He took her hand, kissed it and gave her his best smile. Kristen, what a pleasure. Your mom told me all about you. I can certainly see that you are just as stunning as she is. You two look more like sisters.

Oh cut the crap, I thought to myself. I’m not impressed and she’s too young to flirt with.

Thanks. At sixteen years old, my daughter was a woman of few words. I haven’t really seen too many of your movies, but I really wanted your autograph for my collection. I wasn’t even too sure who you actually were until I saw your picture in the paper last week. You were in that movie with Leonardo, right? Too bad he isn’t with you tonight.

My daughter had just done more to deflate Jack’s ego in five minutes than I’d been able to do over several hours. Ah, youth and bluntness, a great combination.

I can get you his autograph if you’d like, Jack offered without blinking.

Well, thanks, but, I kind of have a rule that the person has to sign them in front of me, or a very trusted friend, Kristen responded.

Like your mom.

Yeah, just so I know it’s the real thing. For her the conversation was over. She turned to me and said, Mom, I wanted to remind you that I’m spending the night at Jane’s. Remember? So you’ll have the whole house to yourself. Gotta go. Jane and her parents are waiting in the parking lot. See you. She gave me a peck on the cheek. Nice to meet you Mr. Shannon, she said as she left.

You guys go ahead and get the car. I’ll be out in a minute. Jack said to his friends. His smile was nowhere in sight. I shouldn’t have let that fool me. What time do you finish up here?

What? Eleven o’clock. Why? I was feeling suddenly nervous.

You heard what Kristen said. You’ll have the whole house to yourself. Seems like perfect timing to me. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. Looking me straight in the eye he said, We won’t have to worry about making any noise, will we? I’ll be back to pick you up at eleven. I’m looking forward to the rest of the evening.

I stared at him in disbelief as he walked out the door. He was kidding, I told myself. Of course he was kidding. My knees felt like rubber. My head was swimming. He was not coming back, I assured myself again. And even if he did come back, there was no way I was going home with him. It was then that I realized he had pressed something into my hand when he kissed me. I slowly uncurled my fingers. Two bills fell to the floor, a hundred and a fifty.

TWO

I had been looking at the clock every ten minutes for the past three hours. I felt like a cat in a room full of Dobermans. The cleaning crew was busy, and I was counting the cash drawer and closing down the credit card machine. It was almost ten forty-five and there was no sign of Jack. I jammed the cash from the register into the night drop bag and made a dash for the stairs that led to my office. If I could get out of here in the next five minutes I would finally relax. It was just as I reached the bottom step that I heard the front door open. I closed my eyes and prayed, please no, no . . . don’t let it be . . .

Hey beautiful, what’s your hurry. Can’t wait to get home?

It was him. Oh God, I never should have gotten so carried away. Now I would have to give him the satisfaction of telling him I was only bluffing, which meant that on some level he really got to me. I was sure that in his self-centered mind, that would indicate that I had a thing for him and was looking to become a notch on his love belt. I turned slowly to face the music and let him have a good laugh.

He stood there in the foyer, leaning against the hostess counter, smirking, almost beaming at his supposed victory. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the duffel bag slung over his right shoulder. What nerve! He was obviously sure that he had played the last card in this game.

I knew as soon as I saw him that I could not let this end here. I had one last trump card and I fully intended to play it.

Just let me lock this bag up and grab my jacket. I’ll be right down. I took my time going up the stairs. Before I locked the bag in the office safe, I removed the bills Jack had put in my hand. I folded them neatly and placed them in the pocket of my blazer. At the right moment I would take great joy in telling him what he could do with his money.

When I got back downstairs, Jack was charming one of the waitresses witless. Was I the only woman around here that could see right through this guy? Ok, so he was tall and handsome with eyes that could melt steel. His voice was soft and baritone when he spoke. Probably something he learned in acting school. How to sound sultry 101. I was sure he must have passed with flying colors. He most likely had a brain the size of a walnut and a libido the size of Texas.

Are you ready to go? Wrong question, I immediately chastised myself.

"The question is… are you ready?"

The waitress gave us both a puzzled look, followed by a look of total awareness, blushed profusely and excused herself.

Tell Carlos that I’m leaving and have him lock the door now, I called to the waitress before she went back into the kitchen.

Ok, Amanda she replied looking back over her shoulder. Goodnight Mr. Shannon.

Goodnight, Sally. You behave yourself tomorrow at that reunion.

Reunion? I asked.

Some family thing out at her Uncle’s place on the lake. She’s nuts about her third cousin. I was telling her how to… you know… get her man. Show some interest without being too… . obvious. He looked me straight in the eye as he talked.

Are you implying something?

About… .

About me?

What about you?

Are you saying I’m obvious?

Obvious… about what? he asked, feigning sincerity.

About you, I said through clenched teeth.

What about me?

Oh for God’s sake! I said pushing the front door open with such force it banged against the outside wall. Can we just go and get this over with?

I could hear him laughing softly to himself as he followed me outside.

Where’s your car? I asked only seeing my own Mazda and the few cars I recognized as belonging to my employees.

I had my agent drop me off. It seemed easier to take your car. You can drop me at my hotel in the morning.

I dug into my purse for my keys, cursing to myself. Now I would have to bring him back to his hotel tonight when all I really wanted to do was get rid of him, but not until I had my final triumph. I pressed the unlock button on the remote key fob and walked to the driver’s side. As soon as I had positioned myself behind the wheel, I regretted my decision not to change out of the black crepe dress. It was really too short for driving and I had a stick shift. I didn’t relish the thought of his gaze on my thighs all the way home. Even if my legs were my best assets, I wasn’t happy about giving him any satisfaction at all.

Jack tossed his bag onto the back seat. He adjusted the passenger seat to accommodate his legs and reclined his seat slightly, making himself comfortable. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Comfy? I asked.

He looked at me and nodded, glanced at my legs and smiled. I started the engine. His was obviously already running. It was a ten minute ride to my house, which was just outside the village limits. I wanted this to be over quickly and was ten miles over the speed limit all the way.

There’s, no need to hurry, honey. We’ve got plenty of time, he said glancing at the speedometer. I couldn’t even choke out a response. He was so infuriating.

He turned on the radio and searched for a station, finally settling on one that played oldies. We listened to the music in silence. I was grateful for the lack of conversation, but would have loved to know what he was thinking or maybe I was better off not knowing. He gave me another sideways glance, stopped at my legs and kept his eyes straight ahead the rest of the ride home.

We were a half-mile from my house and I was beginning to anticipate his reaction when we reached our final destination. At least it would be final for me until he asked to go back to his hotel, and I would oh, so gladly drive him back.

As we approached the driveway, I could see the light on the front porch of my old Victorian style house and the floodlight over the sign in the small parking lot that read, White Rose Inn. I made sure to park right in front of it, so he couldn’t miss it.

Here we are. Home sweet home, I said as I looked at him to see the reaction I so eagerly awaited. It never came. He was already opening the door to get out of the car and grabbing his bag from the backseat. I jumped out of the car and leaned my arm on the roof with my door still wide open. Don’t you want me to take you back to your hotel?

Why would I want to do that?

I walked around the car to stop him in his tracks as he headed for my front door. I am not going to sleep with you, I stated matter-of-factly.

He put down his duffel bag and took hold of my shoulder with his hands. I know that.

Oh, oh yeah, I said nodding my head. You thought you were going to get laid, and you know it.

Such language, Amanda. I can’t believe my ears. Did you really think I was paying you to have sex?

I opened my mouth and breathed in to speak, but nothing would come out. I fumbled for my blazer pocket and pulled out the money Jack had given me.

See this. See this, I said waving the bills under his nose. What was this all about then?

You want to stay, you gotta’ pay. Isn’t that what you said?

Well, I, uh…

He placed his finger under my chin and closed my gaping mouth. I paid and I want my bed and my breakfast, he said calmly and started to walk around me towards the porch.

I grabbed his arm to stop him. Oh no you don’t. You just take this money back, I said trying to make him take the bills. You are not staying here, I said stamping my foot. He shook me off and kept walking. I followed him up the steps onto the porch where he stood waiting for me to unlock the front door. This was not going the way I had planned. He nodded towards the door and I threw my hands up in disgust.

Ok. Ok. You want to stay. You can stay. But let me warn you buster, I have a deadbolt lock on my door and I keep a baseball bat by my bed.

And that would interest me why?

You are incorrigible!

Once inside, I flipped on the hall light and threw my purse on the mahogany stand by the door. All I wanted to do was get to my room, lock the door and