Chapter One
Smack, smack, smack, went the hot-pink Barbie flip flops as they hit the heels of Liam Butler. His bare calves and barely covered thighs snuck into a nearby alleyway. He tightened the towel around him and let out a sigh of relief. He’d managed to escape his date by slipping through the bathroom window and had made it down the three blocks to his hotel.
“Ugh! I don’t know what’s worse, my situation or the smell of the garbage,” he muttered.
“Well, if you don’t like the smell, you can leave,” spat back a voice. Liam turned to find the source of the voice, but all he could see were some broken down boxes in the corner, a large dumpster, and some black bags.
“Come out! I’m Liam Butler, and I own this hotel and this alleyway.”
First, he saw a metal shopping cart filled with bags and a small dog on top. The dog was some kind of terrier, and at one time, it might have been white, but now it was a dingy gray. The terrier looked at Liam as if he were a new toy. As the shopping cart came out from behind the dumpster, he saw that an elderly woman was pushing it.
She had on what looked like rags for a coat. Her hair was silver—what he could see of it, anyway— and when the slight July breeze came through, it brought a very pungent smell back out.
“Standing there in a towel don’t look like you own much of nothing, especially not my alleyway.”
Liam was about to argue with her when he realized she was just what he was looking for. He hitched the towel around his hips and took a step toward the woman.
“You stay back, you freak!” the woman cried out as she pulled a baseball bat out from her cart.
“Whoa! I’m not trying to hurt you. I told you, I’m Liam. What’s your name?”
“You also said you own the hotel. My name’s Jane.”
“Listen, I do own it, and if you tell the doorman around the corner to tell Travers I’m here, I’ll give you a reward.”
Jane shook her head and gave him a long look. “If I go to the doorman, he’ll put me in jail and take Mr. Butterscotch. No, I have a better idea. You get out of my alley and take your crazy ways with you. I mean, you’re a well put together man and all, but running around in the city with a towel and shoes two sizes too small . . . something ain’t right with you.”
Liam couldn’t believe he was trying to prove his sanity to a homeless woman.
“Okay, okay, let me just make sure the coast is clear,” Liam said as he hitched the towel again.
Then it happened all at once: Mr. Butterscotch jumped from the cart and tried to grab the edge of the towel from Liam. Jane pushed her cart and started to swing her bat at Liam. Liam ducked just in time as he picked up Mr. Butterscotch and tucked him under his arm.
“Don’t hurt him,” whispered Jane.
Jane looked genuinely frightened. Just when he was going to say something to her, Mr. Butterscotch started to give him kisses. He turned to tell him to stop and then looked back at Jane, who was all smiles.
“Okay, I’ll go to the doorman,” she said.
Liam was dumbstruck but managed to stammer, “Thanks.”
“Keep your thanks. Mr. Butterscotch knows people, and if he likes you, then it’s okay. I’m doing this for him, but its gonna cost you.”
“Fine, just give him the message,” Liam muttered.
Liam pulled the towel closer, handed Mr. Butterscotch back, and waited. It seemed like forever, and every little noise made him jump and duck for cover behind a garbage bin. Finally, though, Travers, his dependable best buddy, showed up. He looked a little skeptical, but when Liam stepped out, he shook his head and tried to contain his laughter.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear how that sweet little blonde left you like this,” he said as he handed a robe to Liam.
“Did you bring shoes?”
Travers looked down and immediately pulled out his phone to take a picture. “I didn’t, but as your best friend, I brought my phone to memorialize this new low you’ve set.”
Liam pushed him aside, and with all the dignity he could muster, he walked into his hotel. Every step echoed from the flip flops hitting the marble floors, his best friend following behind him, taking pictures like a paparazzi photographer and giving colorful commentary. Jane, his savior, in the form of an odorous homeless woman holding a dog, grumbled that she and Mr. Butterscotch weren’t leaving without her pay. It was a sight to behold for all the senses.
Liam knew two things: he hadn’t avoided making a spectacle of himself, and his grandmother was not going to be pleased.
* * *
“Dude, you have to tell me what happened?” Travers asked, leaning against the doorjamb in Liam’s hotel suite.
“No one says dude anymore, Travers,” Liam said, trying to get Travers to talk about anything else.
“Before today, I would have told you that the days of seeing your bare butt after a date were long over, but here we are. Maybe there are a lot of things coming back,” he replied.
Liam’s response was interrupted by a wet nose and furtive licks at his toes. When he looked down, there was Mr. Butterscotch.
“Where’s Jane?”
“Jane?” Travers asked, confused. “Oh, yes, Jane. I opened the door to the adjoining suite, and she is preparing a bath.”
Liam smiled. “It’s probably been a while since she had one.”
Travers snorted. “Um, Liam, she’s running it for Mr. Butterscotch.”
Just then, Jane called out. “Mr. Butterscotch!” The dog perked up his ears and then ran out of the room.
Liam looked into the bathroom mirror and saw his friend staring back at him.
“Liam, what happened?”
Liam tried to piece it together. “It started with a call from Gran. She called and said that what I needed was a thinking girl and not someone in the hotel business. She understood that the other women she had matched me with were wrong for me and that I needed someone who would look past my lack of imagination and limited growth.”
Travers had his hand over his mouth, but when Liam lifted his eyebrow and looked at him, a loud burst came out of him.
“Whoa, are you telling me that Gran called the hotel genius and one of the most wanted billionaires in North America, boring and slow? That is so, Gran! When I get older I’m going to be able to say anything—you hear me?— anything, just like her!”
“May I continue?”
Travers settled leaning against the doorjamb. “Continue,” he gestured.
“So she told me there was a convention. There were college professors, and as Sarah told me, it was a symposium, not a convention.”
“Okay, so what happened?”
“She wanted to go for a walk. I said, yes. I didn’t like the crowd either and was relieved to go. As we were walking, she said she felt ill. Her head was starting to pound, and it was the beginning of a bad migraine. She asked me to see her to her room.”
Traver's eyes were wide. “Tell me you didn’t fall for that. When in doubt, call a friend, man.”
Liam looked away from Travers and saw his reflection in the mirror. His blue eyes were bloodshot, his black hair was in disarray, and no amount of hand combing could fix it. Travers broke his concentration when he cleared his throat. Call a friend he’d said. Nope, he hadn’t even thought to call a friend because Sarah was five foot five, and he knew how to avoid uncomfortable situations. It was a skill he had developed to fend off gold diggers and potential blind dates from his grandmother.