Page 12 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

My shift at Elijah’s ended and I changed into my gym clothes, waiting for Cassie. With a few minutes to kill, I decided to stop in the kitchen to see what my favorite chef was up to.

The second I pushed through the swinging door, the aroma of fragrant cumin and lime hit me.

Julio stood at the center island, chopping cilantro with rapid-fire precision. His white chef’s jacket was somehow spotless, though his apron bore the evidence of a day’s worth of culinary artistry.

He grinned as he saw me, pausing to slam the knife down and spread his arms wide like he was about to perform.

“Sophia! You are turning heads today. Que se ve muy hermosa !” he hollered with his trademark flair. His energy was contagious, a perfect match for the vibrant chaos of the kitchen.

I barely understood Spanish—most of what I did know came courtesy of the eccentric chef currently grinning at me. Still, I managed to pick out "miss" and "beautiful" from his playful greeting.

"Gracias, Julio," I replied, my tone laced with amusement.

He responded with an exaggerated bow. "De nada, mi reina," he said with a wink before returning to his cilantro.

“Jurassic Pork tacos, eh?” I asked, reading the blackboard and swiping a few bites of the tomatoes Julio had cut up already.

Julio smiled as he placed the cilantro in a metal tub in his prep station. This was his pet project, making the cuisine to accompany Elijah’s theme movie nights, and he’d come up with some wild ideas .

Last month, he created an entire Breaking Bad menu featuring Walter White Russians, blue rock candy “meth” cupcakes—an arguably questionable choice—and “Pollos Hermanos” chicken sliders.

“?Ah, cierto! I saved some shots for you and your amigas.” He handed me a small paper bag of Jell-O shots he had extracted from the fridge.

“Julio, you really know the way to a woman’s heart.” I clutched the paper bag to my chest.

“Sí. And you know how to make the men swoon for you. You walk around like that, you’ll find a man for sure. El Hombre!”

I snorted a laugh. “Based on my luck with men, I will have no el hombre anytime soon.”

Cassie stormed through the door, exasperated. “There you are!” She made a beeline for me and started pulling me out of the kitchen.

“Hi Julio, bye Julio!” she yelled over our shoulders.

“?Adiós, senoras!” Julio yelled back.

“Sophia, we have thirty minutes before we have to leave, and I still have a ton to do. I need your help!” She paused to look me up and down. “You look smoking hot girl!”

Thanks to the fiery redhead before me, I’d been hitting the gym with renewed dedication.

Hard enough that I finally felt brave enough to wear the olive-green shorty shorts I’d impulsively bought months ago but never dared to put on.

They clung to the tops of my thighs, a bold departure from my usual wardrobe. Paired with the black tank top with thin crisscross straps in the back, I revealed more than a fair share of skin.

I felt lighter and stronger—not just physically but emotionally. It had been a long road to reclaiming my confidence after shedding 180 pounds of deadweight, otherwise known as Landon.

“Reporting for duty.” I stood ramrod straight and stomped my feet together. “What do you need?”

“First thing, I said it a million times, I am so tired of the drill sergeant routine. Find something new,” she scolded.

“Sir, yes, sir!” I fired back.

She glared at me before continuing, “Second, I have a room that needs turndown service. It’s the Davidsons’ room, you know them, it won’t be bad. In. Clean. Out. Done. ”

“Yes, drill sergeant!” I started to walk away, but Cassie grabbed my arm and pulled me back in front of her.

“ Third , I have a room that needs a full clean. The next guest is here to check in already. You likely won’t get it all done.

Start in the bathroom, get as far as you can, and Pam will be in to finish it off before it’s time to leave.

She’s already working OT. I’m just trying to make it easier on her. ”

“I got this, no worries,” I assured her.

“Room 110 is turndown, 213 is a full clean. Here is the master key. Pam already has a cart outside their rooms. Be ninja stealthy so no one thinks a rando in booty shorts is in their room!”

The phone rang at the front desk, beckoning Cassie to answer. I saluted her, and she rolled her eyes before rushing off to answer it.

The turndown was a cinch. I made the bed, grabbed the used towels, emptied the trash, cleaned the toothpaste off their sink, and, for my own personal flair—just for regulars that I adore—I folded the towel into a cute little design and placed it on their bed.

Next was the full clean. I knocked twice to make sure no one was inside.

“Housekeeping!” I called, giving the door a couple more raps for good measure.

Nothing.

I inserted the master key in the lock, grumbling inwardly about the antiquated system. We all hated those clunky keys, but Elijah insisted they added to the inn’s nostalgic charm.

“Housekeeping,” I called again, cautiously opening the door.

The room was still and silent, neat as a pin. Whoever had stayed here was either a clean freak or hadn’t been here long enough to do anything besides sleep.

“It’s go time,” I said to myself, setting my bag of Jell-O shots down on the desk. I popped in my earbuds and started walk-dancing into the bathroom.

The loud buzz of music filled my ears, and as much as I wanted to grumble about the extra work, there was something oddly zen about cleaning. Plus, I would always be there to help one of my friends, just like they’d been there for me—a silent promise we’d kept through the years .

That and the promise of downing one or two of those Jell-O shots from Julio later kept me moving.