Her Little White Lie (BWWM Romance) by Cj Howard Page B

good worker such as you, always sacrificing her holidays, it would be a shame if the hotel would deny you one year,” here he held up a chubby forefinger, “to celebrate with your family.”
     
    “Oh, we value our workers,” Miss Poole said. “Of course Grace will have the time off. I just need to go and make a few adjustments.” She patted her schedule. The needle must have been threaded because her eyes were back to normal size and, if I wasn't mistaken, she even smiled at me.
    Mr. Iglesias winked and tipped his hat before heading for the revolving doors across the large marble foyer. The doormen loved Mr. Iglesias because he was a good tipper. In fact, all the staff loved him for that. But for me, he was the darling old gentleman whom I had the good fortune to spend some quiet moments and intelligent conversation with. I learned all about his farm in
    Argentina. He told me about the gauchos, about the wars and, because of him, I was almost fluent in Spanish, which is what helped clinch the receptionist job for me.
     
    It was six thirty in the evening and my shift was almost up. If I came off work in the early evening, then Mikey would come by the staff entrance of the hotel to meet me. My best friend, Mikey, was from my home town in Boston. He worked in construction and had a job not far from the hotel. He'd been at that site over a year and we had this arrangement to meet and take the subway together. Otherwise I'd see Mikey weekends or evenings or just whenever there was time. Sometimes we'd text each other or speak on the phone, just to see how the other one is doing. Mikey never said much but he had a good sense of humor and he always knew how to make me laugh.
     
    Mikey and I had been friends since school in Boston. He was a year older than me. He had seven brothers and sisters and came from a very Catholic, Irish family, all with varying shades of red hair. Mikey was what I'd call a strawberry blond but he hated that term. We lost touch when he went off to college for a few years so he could waste time and end up becoming a builder – like his father. It was the last thing his father ever wanted him to be.
     
    “Son,” he used to say about his work, “the winters are cold and the summers are hot and when it rains it rains.” Loosely translated, what he meant was, no matter what the weather you'd be outdoors, working your butt off, walking the scaffolding on a skyscraper, and carrying loads on your back, when you could be inside an air-conditioned office. But Mikey didn't listen to his father.
     
    Since he worked at that site, all I ever heard was Mikey complaining he got sunstroke and when it got to winter, he complained that his balls had frozen.
     
    It was four years ago that Mikey walked back into my life. I just bumped into him outside a market in New York. I had no idea he'd moved here and he didn't know I was here either. The great thing was, we'd taken up being best friends again like we were never apart.
     
    I grabbed my thick coat from the locker room and I noticed Miss Poole hovering around the staff entrance. She was cautioning Damion about his scuffed shoes but at the same time she seemed to be looking over the top of her glasses at me. Through the glass door of the staff entrance I saw Mikey. He was blowing into his hands and rubbing them together. All of a sudden I had a plan. I held open my purse for Security to check inside as usual, but Duke always just waved me through. I slipped out and before the door could close behind me, I called, “ Mikey, oh Mikey!” He turned around, puzzled and I rushed to kiss him, full on the lips. I figured ten seconds ought to do it.
     
    “What are you-” Mikey said when he could breathe again. My back was to the door but I knew Miss Poole would be watching.
     
    “Say nothing but act like you know me terribly well,” I whispered to Mikey, still grabbing his cheeks between my hands.
     
    “I do know you terribly well,” he mumbled through a