Checking Inn by Emily Harper Read Free Book Online Page B

defeat the purpose of being undercover if you are referring to me as ‘Detective’,” he points out, and I cling to the seat as we go a little too fast over a speed bump.
    “Right, sure,” I say, and my hand instinctively reaches out to stop the files that he has resting on the dashboard from falling onto my lap.
    “We have to instruct the employees that know what’s going on to treat me the same way they would any other guest,” he says.
    “Absolutely,” I say.    I’m not even sure what I’m agreeing to right now. I can’t stop looking at the drips of coffee coming out the top of one of his cups, inching their way to the cup holder ring.
    “I spoke to Suzanne and she understands the importance of not talking to anyone about what she knows,” he says.    “She mentioned that you know a lot about the town and keep an eye on who’s coming and going.    I would like to sit down with you tomorrow and see if you can come up with a list for us to work with.”
    “Great.”    The drip has now gone into the cup holder.
    “Would tomorrow afternoon work?” he asks.
    “Sure.”    It’s not just about the stickiness the coffee is going to leave in the cup holder.    It’s about the car’s integrity being compromised.    I mean, if a car was meant to have liquid sloshing around in it, it would be a boat.
    “Is something wrong?” he asks, causing my eyes to leave the cup and look into his searching gaze.
    “What? No. Nothing,” I say and sigh when we make the last turn into the Inn’s parking lot.    “Oh good, we’re here.” 
    My seat belt is off and I am out of the car before Ben puts it in park.
    Honestly, I am having a shot of tequila when I get inside, and there is nothing anyone can say to stop me.
    Ben comes around to the trunk and opens it.    It’s worse than the inside.    So much worse.    Thank God I didn’t see it before I got in.
    “You go in first and I will bring my case in,” he says.    “Just in case anyone is in the reception area.”
    I nod in agreement.    I’m not sure my feet have ever wanted to get away from something so badly before.    My blister is even telling them to hurry up.
    I walk through the front door, straight to the reception desk, and collapse in the chair.
    The pens are neatly lined up, just as I left them, and I lower my head to the desk in relief.
    The shrill ring of the desk’s bell makes me jump a few moments later, and I look up to see Ben’s face.
    “Checking in,” he says, turning my business cards, obviously pretending to read them.
    I reach up to straighten them and hand him a new guest registration form attached to a clipboard. 
    “Thank you for choosing the Summerside Inn.    If you could just fill out the form below,” I say, handing him a black ball point pen.
    Ben smiles and signs the form, before putting the pen back in one of the jars.  My eyes narrow slightly as I remove the pen and put it back in the jar I picked it up from.  His eyes take in the labels on the jars where I have sorted them depending on the color of ink.
    “So, is there a meal schedule or do we fly by the seat of our pants?”  I can hear the teasing tone in his voice. Like I would ever let my pants fly.
    “There is a detailed agenda in your room,” I reply.  Honestly, I know that some people think I’m a little… particular , but I have to be.  Otherwise nothing would get done and everything would fall apart. 
    I watch as his face becomes more serious when Mr. Patterson comes through the front door muttering about something.  He hands the form back to me with his messy writing scrawled all over it.
    “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”  Coming round the large walnut reception desk I bend to pick up his suitcase. 
    “What are you doing?” he asks, grabbing my arm.
    The firm grip sends warm shivers up my body but I quickly ignore them.  Honestly, I’m all over the place today.  “I’m carrying