Tex, without pity, suggested, “You can go offer to help that lovely old lady with her suitcase.”
Wrench drew in his breath and tugged the ill-fitting polo shirt into some semblance of neatness. At the moment, chasing down a rogue gang member and teaching him manners with a pipe seemed like a far easier assignment, but he was keenly aware that he was under evaluation for staying
to work at the resort.
And he’d never been to a place that he wanted to stay at so much.
It wasn’t the easy tropical weather—he’d already been through one of the worst storms he’d ever seen on this island. It wasn’t the upscale lodgings or the gourmet food—if anything, that made him more uncomfortable than the poverty and squalor of the streets where he’d grown up.
It was the way this place felt like it was willing to give you a shot.
It didn’t matter if he was schooled or not, Travis was teaching him all sorts of stuff about building and repairing.
Scarlet, for all of her toe-tapping and terrifying frowns, had been willing to give him a chance, despite his criminal record and his inauspicious arrival at the resort to kidnap one of her staff.
Jenny, the otter shifter he’d kidnapped, had turned out to be a lawyer, and was even trying to get him a plea bargain in return for testifying against the cartel that had hired him. Wrench was absolutely sure that if the deal fell through, they’d all look the other way while he hopped on a plane somewhere with no extradition laws rather than turning him in pitilessly.
The rest of the staff seemed to care more that he was attempting to pull his own weight than that he didn’t have highfalutin manners or much social polish. They drank beers with him in the evening like he was a long-time buddy, and they didn’t pry at him with questions that he obviously didn’t want to answer.
They accepted his desire to go straight without question or doubt. He wasn’t sure why, or why it mattered so much to him, but it did.
“Hey, lady, er, ma’am.” Wrench tried not to hulk. “May I help you with your bag?”
She looked up, and up, and up at him. “Goodness, aren’t you a… thing.” She didn’t seem particularly bothered by his thing-ness. “One of these wheels does have a habit of sticking,” she said, handing him the handle. “And gravel paths! I didn’t think I’d have to drag this down a gravel path.”
Wrench followed her as she unfolded her brochure and pointed out her cottage on the little map. She had peeled off a sticker nametag that said ‘Dot’ and put it on the brochure. “I’m in cottage twenty-three,” she said, and then she led Wrench off at a fast trot.
Wrench followed her dutifully, carrying the bag by its awkward long handle rather than even trying to roll it. It was surprisingly heavy.
“Is it always so hot here?” Dot chirped curiously as she led the way, pausing only briefly at the signpost pointing directions. “Goodness, it is quite a lot hotter than the Midwest this time of year. Of course, my kids all think I can’t handle the cold anymore, so this is their early Christmas gift. I think they’re hoping I like it so much they can convince me to move to Florida. I’d as soon eat my socks as move to that alligator-infested swampland. You could be an alligator, son. What’s your shifter form?”
Wrench cleared his throat. “Panther. Ma’am.”
She sniffed. “Big cats. I’m a fox, thank you very much, and when I was younger I was quite the fox in either form.”
Wrench caught what might have been a wink.
“Yes, ma’am,” he decided was safe.
“You got family?” the woman prodded.
“Sister,” Wrench said briefly, surprised into admitting it. “Niece.”
“That’s lovely,” Dot said cheerfully. “I have two brothers, six kids, and three grandkids. Nothing is as important as family, now, is it. How old is your niece?”
“Eight,” Wrench ground out.
“That’s a good age,” she said approvingly. “Not so old they’re in the talking-back stage, but old enough to have a conversation.”
Wrench grunted politely.
“Do they live here?” the white-haired woman pried.
“No ma’am,” Wrench said miserably.
Her cottage was fortunately not far, and he carried her suitcase just inside the door. “That will do,” she said, and she began to fumble in her purse.
“No tips, ma’am. It’s all inclusive,” Wrench reminded her.