“I think you’re so full of—” She broke off as a woman came into the doorway, clearly agitated, so much so that she seemed to completely miss that Malichai was even in the room.
“Amaryllis?” It was Mrs. Stubbins, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast. “I know your break isn’t over for another fifteen, and you were up half the night already for me, but would you mind helping out in the kitchen right now? There’s something wrong with the dishwasher and I can’t get Jacy to settle down . . .” She trailed off when she noticed Malichai sitting at his table. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought everyone was finished.”
“I was late coming down this morning,” he said. “Is there something I can do to help? I’m not bad with fixing things like dishwashers. Fixed Nonny’s a time or two.” Mostly she never used her modern dishwasher and critters ate the wires, but he wasn’t going to say that.
“No, no, you’re a guest,” Mrs. Stubbins said.
Malichai had been ordered to take leave and to continue with his therapy by swimming in the ocean. The women and little girls were happy to gather around the Fontenot table in the kitchen with brochures spread out and decide his fate. They’d chosen the little bed-and-breakfast in San Diego, California. A beachfront property, it was reputed to have amazing cuisine, which was the only thing he cared about. The owner had been investigated because one didn’t have a multimillion-dollar piece of high security equipment running around without knowing everything about where he was going or who he might be coming in contact with.
Mrs. Stubbins was a widow—the widow of a soldier who had lost his life fighting for his country three years earlier. She was struggling financially, mostly because her daughter’d had two operations on her heart and those didn’t come cheap. Malichai liked her and everything he’d read about her in the file they had on her.
She bit her lip. “Besides, I think that dishwasher is just old and has given up the ghost.”
“Mrs. Stubbins, if I didn’t help you out, my grandmother would have my hide. Lead me to the broken-down piece of equipment and let me see what I can do.”
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos up and down his arms, and went to her, keeping Amaryllis in his sight the entire time. She left the book and came around the table hastily, as if she feared he intended Mrs. Stubbins harm.
“Please call me Marie. You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all, Marie. Give me something to do. I’m not very good at vacations.”
Amaryllis trailed after them. He didn’t like her behind him, so he deliberately, and gallantly, stepped aside to wave her past him. She hesitated for just one moment, but then hurried to catch up with Mrs. Stubbins. She actually slipped on by her and was in the kitchen first, so she had her back to the wall and her eyes on him as he strode in. She didn’t seem afraid so much as leery of him.
Marie Stubbins swept her hand toward the large commercial dishwasher she’d already pulled out. “I tried to check it out myself, but I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I can look it up on YouTube, and maybe find a checklist we can go over ourselves,” Amaryllis suggested sweetly. “That way Mr. . . .” She trailed off, expecting Malichai to supply his name. Marie had been the one to check him into his room on his arrival.
He didn’t. Instead, he sat on the floor and looked at the impressive amount of tools Marie had laid out. “Thanks, Amaryllis. I’d appreciate the help. While you do that, I’ll look this over and see if I can find anything that jumps out at me.” Ignoring her, he looked up at the owner of the bed-and-breakfast. “You say it just stopped working?”
“It was working fine last night, but then this morning when I went to turn it on, it wouldn’t budge.”
Malichai was very aware of Amaryllis staring at him indecisively, and then she flounced out of the kitchen. He couldn’t help smirking. They were off to an excellent start.
“Don’t worry, if I can’t get this thing going, I’ll help Amaryllis with the dishes, and we’ll figure something out.”
Marie looked as if she might protest, but clearly she was too defeated. She just flashed him a wan smile. “I don’t know how to thank you. We can take a day off—”
He held up his hand. “I’m always looking for food, woman. I think I’m always starving, and my grandmother says with what I eat I should weigh a thousand pounds.”
Marie laughed. “I can cook. I’ll make certain you have plenty of food.”
Amaryllis must have set a record for running, or her small tablet was close. She rushed back into the room and pulled up short when she heard Marie laughing. Malichai glanced at her and his breath caught in his lungs. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to really see her body. She wore a pair of yoga pants that fit her like a glove. The little racer-back tank clung to every curve—and she had them. She might be on the shorter side, but she was breathtaking.
He peered into the machine as if it were his life’s work. He wasn’t going to get caught staring at her and reveal that she had the upper hand. That woman had an impressive body packed into those yoga pants and that tank.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Marie said. “No worries, though, Amaryllis, I haven’t forgotten I owe you hours of time, including last night and this morning. I’ll bus tables and clean up the dining room while you do this. I have that appointment with Jacy’s doctor this afternoon, but I can do dinner . . .”
“I’m fine with cooking dinner,” Amaryllis said. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet.”
Malichai thought that might be a pointed jab at him, but Marie didn’t seem to take it that way. She laughed as if she found Amaryllis very funny.
Malichai waited until Marie was out of the room before he turned and looked at Amaryllis again. She gave off the kind of energy he felt when he faced an enemy in combat. There was something else as well. If it was at all possible, he would have thought she felt very much like a fellow GhostWalker. They normally recognized one another, although there were a few who were shielded from the others, and they could shield an entire team when needed. He was far from home and the only women he knew who were Ghost-Walkers had been previous experiments Whitney had deemed failures.
He ignored the little lift to her chin. “You got anything for me, a starting point, because just looking at this, it all looks good. She said it worked fine last night, but this morning . . . nothing.”
“You’re really going to fix her dishwasher for her?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
Malichai looked her up and down. “I don’t know what your problem with me is, and frankly, I don’t care, but Marie seems like a very nice lady with too much work and too many problems. If I can fix her dishwasher, it’s a very small amount of my time to help someone who seems deserving. If you don’t want to help me, that’s okay. I’m capable of looking up the same things you are.”
She stared at him for a long moment, the clock ticking in the background. She blinked, a sweep of her long lashes. “You really are planning on fixing it for her, aren’t you?”
“I told you so.”
“Men like—” She stopped what she’d been going to say. “People aren’t usually that nice.”