Power Play

It had been a weird day already, now she was supposed to share a room with a big, smelly hockey player?

She tried to ignore him as he schlepped his big, stupid hockey bag over to his side of the room. At least he was taking the bed beside the curtain, leaving her with the one closest to the door and the bathroom.

Once he’d settled himself, he said, “There’s no mini-bar or fridge.”

“No. They don’t rent the room, remember?”

He grunted and went out of the room, sadly not taking his belongings with him, only to return a minute later with a bucket of ice.

He unzipped his monstrously large sports bag and dug out a six-pack of Budweiser beer. Perhaps he felt the force of her gaze on him, because he glanced up. His eyes were blue and twinkled as if he thought this whole thing was a great joke.

He pulled a can out of the plastic holder. Held it aloft with his eyebrows raised. “Wanna beer?”

He gave her his beefcake calendar grin, as though he thought she might have missed it the first time he flashed it.

She figured they might as well try to get along since they were stuck here together, so she nodded. To her surprise he got up and brought her over the can, even popping the top when she looked helplessly at her wet nails. “Glass?”

“No, thanks.”

He nodded and went back to his bed. Stacked the pillows behind him and popped his own beer.

“Are you really a cop?”

For answer, he lifted his butt and dragged out his cop badge. She rose and went for a closer look. The badge told her that he was, indeed, a cop, and he was from Oregon.

“Sergeant Jonah Betts,” she read aloud.

He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Emily Saunders.”

It was so ridiculous she had to chuckle. “Likewise.” They shook hands. He didn’t do the he-man squish-all-her-bones thing, but it was still a firm clasp. His hands were big and warm, but she noticed he was careful not to mess up her still-damp nails.

“Most people call me Emily.”

“So, how was your day, Emily?”

She returned to her seat at the desk and carefully painted her baby fingernail while she replied. “This has been a very strange day. Apart from the obvious bedbug thing, this morning. Let’s see, I went to Wal-Mart wearing clothes I would rather not have been seen in.”

He nodded, understanding. “I remember. I’m guessing that’s not your normal look.”

“No. So naturally I bumped into someone I sort of knew years ago, a big mouth who happens to be friends with my cousin who’s getting married.” Carefully re-screwing the lid on the polish, she blew on her fingertips. “She saw me in the lovely outfit I was wearing, buying fashion at Wal-Mart and couldn’t keep the story to herself. At the lunch today? My dad offered me a business loan, my mom said she could help me with the cost of the bridesmaid gown and my aunt tells me she’s going to set me up with my third cousin Buddy, the orthodontist.”

“Why didn’t you tell the nosy broad about the bedbugs?”

“I am staying in this hotel in order to avoid being billeted in a family room somewhere, either on a pullout couch or an air mattress. My family does big weddings, so I wouldn’t have the family room to myself, you understand. It would be like a weeklong slumber party on really bad mattresses with people I barely know.”

“So you chose me, instead.”

“You wouldn’t be so flattered if you knew my family.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sure there will be people checking out tomorrow and I’ll get another room. Once I’m in that family room? I’m stuck for the week.”

“What kind of business do you have?”

“I’m a massage therapist. I run a wellness clinic. We have naturopaths, a chiropractor, a nutritionist and a practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine all on staff. We work as an integrated team.”

“Cool,” he said, though from his tone she guessed he wasn’t a big believer in alternative medicine.

“I enjoy it.”

“And, I’m guessing from the fact that they want to set you up with Cousin Buddy the orthodontist, that you’re single?”

“And loving it,” she informed him. After a day of pity for her spinster state, she was feeling militant.

He put up his hands, so fast she heard the beer slosh in the can. “Hey, I’m single, too. I get it.”

She looked at him curiously. Did the same unsubtle hints happen with men, too? “Do your family try to match you up with someone every chance they get?”

He sipped beer while thinking it over. Nodded. “My friends more. I’m the last one of my buddies still a free man. They see me as a challenge, but I aim to stay single.”

She raised her beer can in a toast. “To freedom.”

The both drank. “You want to watch some TV?”

“Sure.” Anything that would take her mind off the week ahead would be good.

While she applied a second coat of polish, he found the remote and punched channels. She heard him skip over some kind of cop show, make a rude remark about Dancing with the Stars, and then she heard the buzz of a news station. That she could live with. She was moving to her bed so she could see the TV when there was a knock on the door.

“Now what?”

“Do you mind?” She was closer to the door, but her polish was wet. “Maybe they’ve found another room.”

He rolled off the bed and padded to the door.

Opened it.

“Did you order an orange tent?” he asked, staring in some disbelief at the dress hanging from a chambermaid’s hand.

“My dress,” she cried, getting up. “Is it okay?” she asked the woman.

“Yes. We hung it in the big freezer. It’s what the exterminators told us to do. Anything that was on there will be dead by now.”

“Too bad that dress isn’t,” said Jonah.

THERE WERE SO MANY PEOPLE in town for the wedding that the potluck dinner that night was held in the Masonic Hall, where the wedding reception was also booked. Emily knew that in the next couple of days she’d spend many hours helping decorate the gymnasium-size space into what her aunt Irene insisted on calling the bower of bliss.

As an out-of-towner, Emily wasn’t expected to bring food, but she stopped at the deli anyhow and picked up a tub of potato salad. She’d have taken wine, but Uncle Bill had told her proudly he’d made enough for the entire week. Uncle Bill was a good man and one of her favorite relatives, but she’d rather use his wine as nail polish remover than drink the stuff.

As she walked in, her aunt rushed up to her. “Oh, Emily, I’m so glad you’re here. Cousin Buddy is dying to meet you.” She took the offered potato salad and dropped her voice, explaining, “He’s the one I was telling you about. Very successful. An orthodontist.”

She made flappy come-here motions with her hand to a guy standing with Emily’s mom and dad. Her folks immediately shooed him her way, acting in unison, so they looked like a vaudeville act. Yep, Emily thought, my family haven’t lost any of their subtlety.