AN: It's Thursday again? What? These weeks are just flying by. Thanks to everyone for the positive response to last chapter. I swear Sookie means it when she says she'll be his friend this time! :D

~~Chapter 10: Looking for some Shade~~

"What are you still doing here?"

I look up from the stack of paperwork I've been organizing to see Eric leaning against the door jamb of the office next to Amelia's; the office I have taken over since being put on the conference.

"Oh, hey Eric," I say, tucking my long bangs behind my ear. I look at the clock over Eric's head and let out a frustrated sigh. Where had the time gone? It is already ten pm. I was supposed to leave at eight.

Eric crosses the office in three of his long steps and sits down on the seat across from me, propping one ankle up on his knee.

"You've been a busy woman, Sookie Stackhouse," he says, and points to the paperwork strewn across the desk.

"Yeah," I say, and take a deep breath. Maybe allowing myself a short break will make these numbers make sense; God knows they've looked like ancient Greek to me for the last twenty minutes. "Portia Bellefleur is one demanding woman."

"Yeah, she is," Eric says. I look up sharply to see him smiling at me. Granted, I haven't met Portia Bellefleur in the flesh, and have no idea if she's Eric's type…if Eric even has a type, but I'm curious as to how well he's acquainted with her.

"Know that first hand, do you?" I ask with a smirk.

"I do indeed," he replies, with a wink. "But not, and I think it's rather fortunate, the way you are imagining. She was in one of our group surf lessons last year. Portia's not really my type, no matter how fond I'm growing of her accent."

I feel myself blush, something I've done countless times in the past ten days, since I had decided to be friends with him. He hadn't let up on the incessant flirting; I don't know how many times he's informed me of how sexy he thinks my accent is. And, in retaliation, and in an effort for self defense, I have taken to responding by taunting him about his reputation.

I try to brush aside his compliment. "Is she as charming in person as she is on the phone?"

"Even more so," he laughs.

"Fantastic," I say under my breath. As soon as Portia had realized I was from Louisiana, she had glommed onto me, insisting that I be her primary point of contact. I had received fifteen calls from her today alone, a pretty average number over the last week.

"Nah, don't let her get under your skin. She's all bark and no bite."

"To you maybe," I say, and lean back in my chair. "But unfortunately, I'm not a tall, good looking man."

"You think I'm good looking do you?" he asks, and waggles his eyebrows at me comically.

"Of course not," I say and roll my eyes. "You're a troll and you know it."

"Sookie, Sookie, Sookie," he shakes his head. "You're so flattering. Whatever would I do without you?"

"I'm sure you'd figure something out. In fact, I am positive that Arlene would be willing to help you out," I add with a smirk. Just yesterday, Arlene had practically fallen off a ladder trying to impress Eric when we had returned from lunch. She hadn't been too happy when she found out that Eric and I had formed a truce of some sorts. If I thought she hadn't liked me before, I realized there was a new level of dislike underneath those flaming red roots.

"I'm sure she would," he says, then visibly shudders. "No thank you."

I look back at the clock and then back at Eric. "What are you still doing here anyway, Mr. Surf Instructor? Big waves at night?"

He shrugs and uncrosses his legs. "I had some paperwork I needed to get through. And I didn't want to leave you alone here with Godfrey on the loose."

Mr. Godfrey is one of the hotel's best customers. He spends at least one week out of every month on site, and he just happens to be one of the biggest creeps I've ever met. He had checked in for a two week stay three days ago, where I had my first run in with him. Amelia had warned me that he was a bit on the lecherous side, but apparently was so well connected that it was decided that it was best to let that behavior be excused. The hotel had an unspoken policy that there had to be at least one male staff member in the executive offices at all times during Mr. Godfrey's stay to help alleviate any issues that may arise from his penchant to walk on the wrong side of the sexual harassment side. I hadn't had the fortune – or misfortune as it may have been – to interact with Mr. Godfrey beyond our introduction, but I had plenty of experience with his type.

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment Eric, I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can," he replies. "But you don't know Godfrey, and I like to say better safe than sorry. Besides, what can I say? I can't stay away." He gives me a goofy smile, and I know that it's in part to make me change subjects. "Not when we're so close to your two month mark."

"Eric!" I say, but can't stop myself from smiling. "When you are going to stop with the two month thing?"

"After you go on a date with me," he shrugs.

"I'm not going to go on a date with you, Northman."

"Yes you will," he says with a knowing smile.

"No," I emphasize, "I won't." I can't. Even if I'm less than a month away from that magical two month date where I can date again, I'm not ready to date anyone, much less Eric Northman.

"When are you going to tell me about what happened to you?" he asks, leaning forward.

"What do you mean what happened to me?" I ask with a frown.

"With men. Something must've happened to turn you off men."

"I'm not turned off men," I say. "I'm just on dating hiatus."

"For any particular reason?"

"None that I'm going to tell you," I say. It's not the first time he's asked me about this, and I don't think it'll be the last. However, telling Eric Northman about my dating history isn't high on my priority list.

"You will," he says with confidence. "Maybe not right now, but you will. What are you working on anyway?"

"Portia sent some changes to the attendees two hours ago. It seems they have fifteen more people coming than she had initially told us. I'm just trying to work out where to put them."

"Do we have the rooms?" Eric asks, tilting my computer screen in his direction to see what I've been working on.

"Yes," I nod. "Amelia said that this was a possibility, so she'd blocked out an additional twenty rooms just in case in the contract."

"Smart girl."

"That she is," I smile. "But apparently one of the guys coming now is a bigwig in the organization, and they want him to have a nicer room, so I've got to figure out where to shift everyone. I've been looking at this for so long, I'm going cross eyed."

"Isn't Claudine supposed to be doing the rooming assignment?"

"She is," I nod. "And she has, I just thought I would help her out and get this done."

"Let me take a look at it," he says, and stands up to walk around my desk. He comes to a stop next to my chair, and leans over me, covering my hand on the mouse with his own. I quickly pull my own hand out from under his. If I thought my concentration was bad before, this is an entirely different level. I had tried not to think of Eric as attractive – or at least, tried to tell myself not to think of him that way – and had managed to be somewhat successful, but it is practically impossible when his body is enveloping my own. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, filling my head with Eric's scent. He smells of sandalwood and the ocean. I somehow manage to stifle the groan that is threatening to escape my lips. When I gather myself, I reopen my eyes to see him moving things about on my spreadsheet.

"There!" he says, triumphantly. "Done. Mr. Edgington now has the Turtle Bay Suite."

"Where did you move Felipe de Castro then?" I ask, looking over my shoulder sharply. Eric's face is mere inches from mine, and I am mesmerized by the depths of his eyes so close. Shit. I pull back, leaning as far away as I can in my chair.

He gives me a knowing smile, and then looks back at the computer. "He's in the Hanama Suite."

"I thought Sophie-Anne was using that suite this week."

"Sophie-Anne is checking out today," he says, matter-of-factly. "She wasn't too happy with my feedback today and stormed out."

"What happened?"

"I told her that I didn't think our lessons were necessary anymore. She's been a repeat customer for a long time now, and can't quite grasp the concept. Our goals weren't exactly going in the same direction," he says, looking pointedly at me.

I gasp. From what Alcide had told me, and from what I had seen on the beach, it had appeared that Sophie-Anne was much more than Eric's pupil. What does it mean that he stopped seeing her? From the way he was looking at me, there was no doubt that he was trying to convey a message to me. I look back at the computer, then look back at Eric.

"That's rather harsh, don't you think?" My voice sounds squeaky, but it's the best I can do when my heart can only be described as irregular.

He shrugs. "I recently decided that I needed to realign my priorities, and Sophie-Anne, as good of a customer as she is, can no longer be a priority."

I open my mouth, then close it when I realize I have nothing to say to that. There is no doubt in my mind that he is trying to tell me that he's broken his relationship with Sophie-Anne for my benefit. The way he is looking at me, waiting for my response, tells me as much.

"Oh," I say finally, then shake my head. "Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"From where I'm standing, it was the only decision to make. If I am going to get what I want, then I can't have her type of distraction anymore," he says. He moves imperceptibly closer to me. I turn back to look at the computer, far too uncomfortable with having his face that close to mine, and don't know if I'm imagining things when I think he smells my hair before pulling back and returning to the empty seat he had vacated.

"Um," I start uncertainly. "Thanks for your help on that Eric. That takes a lot off my plate."

"I'm happy to help you Sookie. In any way I can. Was that the last person you had to shuffle?"

I look down at the last packet of Portia's additions sitting on my desk. There are five more names I haven't had the chance to go through and organize rooms for, but I decide that Claudine can handle them in the morning. I have to be back at the hotel at eleven for check in and stay through the first dinner tomorrow; Claudine is coming in at nine, which will give her plenty of time to sort this out.

"Yes," I say firmly. "Claudine can take care of the rest in the morning."

"Perfect," he says with a bright smile. "Are you going to be ready to go soon then?"

I look at my to-do list. I could stay for another hour or so and mark a few more things off, but after that scene with Eric, I don't think I'll be able to focus knowing he is so near.

"Yes," I say, and force myself to look at him. "I'll be ready in five minutes. I just need to shut this stuff down."

"Okay," he says, and pushes himself out of the chair. "I'll just go log off and I'll meet you back here; take you out to your car."

"That's not necessary," I say. I try not to feel flattered by his attention. The more I am with Eric, the more and more I forget why I need to stay away from him. If he keeps walking me to my car, and checking in on me, I'm afraid that I'll soon forget why he's bad as anything but a friend for me entirely.

"Sookie," he says, stopping on his path to the door and turning around. "You are going to have to get used to me doing things like this for you. You are an employee of the hotel," he emphasizes the word employee. "I look out for everyone that works here; I would do the same for anyone."

He makes it sound so innocent that I wonder if I'm being ridiculous. Amelia had told me how dedicated the staff was to Eric, and Claudine had told me more than once that Eric was the best boss she had ever had.

"Plus," he added. "You're my friend. I don't give that distinction out lightly. And as my friend, you're important to me. I don't want to see anything happen to you. I would do anything to help you. And as my friend, I would hope you think the same for me."

That is what I'm worried about. Even after only being his "friend" for less than two weeks, I already find myself wanting to do just that.

.

Portia Bellefleur arrives at the property twenty minutes after I do, which just happens to be two hours before she was expected. I have barely settled myself in for the day when Arlene informs me that I have someone asking for me.

"Who is it?" I ask, looking up from my computer screen.

"I didn't ask," Arlene says. I can tell she's lying.

Portia insists on a tour of the property immediately. Even though the convention has been held here for the past two years, she is adamant that she get a full tour as if she had never seen the property before.

"Things change so often at these resorts," she says, and links her hand through my arm as if we are the best of friends. "I can't tell you how happy I was to find out they brought on a good Southern girl. You just can't find anyone that's easier to deal with, can you?"

I smile, doing my best not to show my annoyance. I had planned on finalizing the details with Lafayette before Portia arrived, but that obviously wasn't going to happen. I would need to depend upon Lafayette and his staff to have everything in order.

"Tell me," Portia says, steering me towards the lobby doors that lead out to the beach, "has there been much staff turnover?"

"I don't believe so," I say, "but as you are aware, I just began here last month."

"Of course," she says, though it's clear she's not paying attention to me as we step outside. Her eyes scan the beach, which looks deserted at the moment. "Tell me, there was the most delightful man working down at the activity center last year. Tall, blond… " she lowers her voice, "incredibly handsome. Is he still here?"

"Eric?" I ask.

"Is that his name?" she says with a giggle. She manages to go from powerful businesswoman to a swooning fourteen year old girl at the mere mention of his name, not that I blame her. Hell, if I was here as a guest, I think I'd get all swoony over Eric too. "I don't remember catching it, but he gave the most fascinating surfing lesson to a few of the girls last year."

"That'd be Eric."

"Mmm, do you know if he's here yet? I'd just love to run some ideas by him directly."

"Oh, I'm sure he'd just love that!" I say and squash the laughter bubbling in my chest. If I can push Portia off on Eric, maybe I can go and finalize with Lafayette after all.

I leave Portia talking to Ginger about the thread count of the towels, and excuse myself to get Eric. He is sitting at the small desk in the activity shack, and looks up with a smile when I call his name over the counter.

"What are you doing here, Sookie?" he asks, and stands up from his desk. He walks over the counter, leaning on his elbows opposite of me. "Couldn't wait to see me?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Something like that. Actually, there's someone here that wants to speak with you."

"Is that so?" he asks, peering around behind me. "I don't see anyone. You don't have to make excuses Stackhouse," he adds with a wink.

"Keep dreaming, Eric," I say, then lean in and lower my voice. "Portia showed up early. She insisted on seeing that 'handsome man that taught surfing'. "

"And you thought of me? I'm flattered."

"I wondered if she meant Alcide at first," I tease, "but she definitely mentioned that he was blond. Different strokes, eh?"

"Ouch," he says mockingly, placing a hand on his chest. "You do know how to hurt me."

"Oh hush," I say, and playfully slap at his arm. "She'll be here in a minute."

"Great," he says with a roll of his eyes. "I can't wait."

"I'm sure you can't. Tell me," I say, looking over my shoulder, "why doesn't she know that you're an owner?"

He shrugs. "I like to keep that secret from people like her. She'd spend all her time wondering why I was teaching surfing instead of doing her bidding. Keeps it simple."

"Don't you think that's-"

"There you are!" Portia interrupts. I grimace at Eric before turning around. Portia's demeanor has changed entirely. She simpers and flutters in Eric's direction, not even looking me in the eye.

"Hello Portia," Eric says from behind me. "What a pleasure it is to see you again."

"I didn't reckon you'd remember little old me," she says, coming to stand next to me at the counter.

"As if I could forget you," he says. "I was wondering if you'd come back." His voice is laden with charm, and even I get a little weak kneed. It is no wonder that he has as many repeat customers as he does if he treats them all like this; or, better, as is the case with Sophie-Anne. I suppose that should be a "was", though the thought of Eric going on the straight and narrow for my sake isn't something I can focus on right now.

I look between the two of them and smile at Portia. "Do you mind if I leave you be for awhile so I can go finalize some of the last minute items?"

"Of course not," Portia says, giving me her first genuine smile. "I'm in good hands."

"Yes you are," I say, then look back at Eric. "Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"I'm sure there's something," he says with a wink, then turns back to Portia. "Why don't you come inside and get out of that heat?"

I hear her giggle assent as I turn around and head back to the hotel.

.

The next six hours are a whirlwind of activity. Portia returns to the office shortly after I got back from meeting with Lafayette, and I spend the next two hours with her going over all the last minute details. I breathe a sigh of relief when she excuses herself to work down in the arrival greeting area in the lower level lobby, and sit down at the desk in my temporary office to send a flurry of emails to the staff for the evening's activities.

I hear Claudine and Arlene as they check in the conference's attendees. I may not get along with her personally, but I have to admit that Arlene is good with the guests. Claudine pops her head into the office at three-thirty.

"That's the last of them," she says, with a bright smile.

"What are you so happy about?" I ask, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I can't even tell you how happy I am that you have to deal with Portia this year," she says, taking the seat across from my desk. "I had to be her point person last year, and I thought I was going to poke my eyeballs out with all the last minute changes. Let me tell you, you will make best of friends with Chow down in the bar, or you won't make it out alive."

I nod and take a deep breath. As demanding as Portia has been, and will undoubtedly be, I am actually quite excited at the prospect of the conference. For all the hard work that goes into the event, it is nice to see the final product, even with the glitches that will undoubtedly pop up during the week. There is a certain satisfaction to getting the job done at a group event, unlike the day to day activities at the concierge desk. I had been on my way towards heading the event department at the hotel in Dallas before I had fled. I often wonder how different my life could be if I had stayed in Dallas.

"Ah yes," I say, and lock my computer, "I have already had that conversation with Chow. He knows to have a gin and tonic ready for me at nine-thirty tonight."

"Nine thirty?" Claudine asks and laughs. "That will be impressive if you make it that far. Last year I was in the bar at six, and I was the last one there. Good thing Pam doesn't mind if we have a drink or two at these kinds of events."

"Oh it can't be that bad," I say.

.

It is, though not for the reasons that Claudine thought it would be.

No, the source of the problem is standing across the large banquet room, chatting with Pam. I had spotted him the minute he crossed the threshold, and had been frozen in place. At first, I had thought I had been imaging things. I had reviewed the list of attendees so many times that I practically had it memorized. I may not remember how to spell Felipe DeCastro's name, but I am sure that I would have remembered if I'd seen his name on the list.

Amelia comes flying at me – discreetly of course – and stops when she reaches my side. "Is that…?"

"Yeah," I say, with a nod. There is no mistaking John Quinn. He had always stood out in a room. If his height wasn't enough to distinguish him, he had a certain aura about him that drew everyone's attention. There are few men in the world that can carry off the entirely bald look, and Quinn was one of them.

"What in the hell is Quinn doing here?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "I'm as surprised as you are."

"His name wasn't on the list," she starts with a frown, "was it?"

"I think I would have remembered seeing John Quinn on the list," I say, a bit more vehemently than I'd like. I shouldn't feel anything at the sight of John Quinn; we hadn't seen each other in years; he didn't mean anything to me. Yet, I can't deny the shock that is resonating through my body.

"Who?" Claudine asks, coming to a stop next to Amelia.

"John Quinn."

"Oh yeah," she says, absolutely clueless as to the relevance of his name. "He was on Portia's additions that I added this morning. He was one of the ones you asked me to book today."

Of course he was. It is just my luck that I got distracted before running across that tidbit of information.

"Asshole," Amelia grumbles under her breath.

Claudine looks at the man and then back to Amelia with a frown. "Do you know him?"

"Hell yes I know him," Amelia says. "He's the bastard that broke Sookie's heart."

"He is not!" I insist.

"The one you dumped?" Claudine asks, her eyes widening. "The one who proposed to you?"

"No," I shake my head. "A different ex."

"He's an asshole," Amelia repeats. "If I'd known he was going to be here, I would've told Pam to fuck the conference."

"Amelia," I say, trying to sound calmer than I feel. "It's not a big deal." It is, but she doesn't have to know it. "He's a guest. One of three hundred. I doubt we'll even interact with him." I hope I won't have to interact with him. The thought alone makes my stomach hurt.

"Still," she says and growls under hear breath. "If I knew some of those spells I tried back in college, I would so turn him into something. Like a jackass; or a toad; something more appropriate."

"I appreciate your support," I say, and take a deep breath, "but it's going to be okay."

She looks at me skeptically, and then nods. "Okay. You're right. It will be okay. But if it's not, you let me know and I will kick his ass."

"Amelia!" I say.

"It's true," she says with a shrug. "And don't you worry. I will tell Pam that you need to stay behind the scenes on this one. She'll understand. We'll do whatever we can to make sure that he has no clue that you're here."

.

The plan worked for all of two hours. As soon as I was done talking to Amelia, I had ducked back to my office. I could take care of most everything with the combination of my Blackberry and computer. I had handled questions from Portia, Lafayette and Pam without a problem. I had even gone down to peek in on the banquet when I heard the music start – it is much easier to blend into a crowd when they are up and moving then when they are seated.

It wasn't until I was making my way back upstairs when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

"Sookie?" a deep, familiar voice calls from behind me. I freeze on the stairs. "Is that you?" I take a fortifying breath and then turn around.

He looks just like I remember him. His suit is immaculately tailored, and the silver in his tie sets off his unusual violet eyes in the dim light. He looks as confused as I feel as he walks towards me; he stops when he is two steps below me, and we are nearly eye to eye.

"Quinn!" I exclaim as I try to even out my breathing.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, looking behind me for a clue.

"I, um…" I trail off. "I work here."

His brows furrow in confusion. "You moved to Oahu?"

"It appears so," I say with a smile.

"Wow," he says and his face widens with a smile. "I always knew you were destined for bigger things." When I don't say anything, he continues. "It is so good to see you Sookie." His eyes rake down my body, taking in every detail of my attire. I am grateful that Pam required the staff working the event to be in cocktail attire for the party; I don't want Quinn to see me in my uniform quite yet. "You look beautiful."

"Um…" I say, and shift from foot to foot. "Thanks Quinn." I look over my shoulder up the stairs. "I should…uh… get back to work."

"Get a drink with me," he insists. "I've missed you, babe. We need to catch up." He reaches out and places his hand over mine of the banister, and I jump back in shock.

"I can't," I say, shaking my head and walking up the stairs backwards. "I…I've got to go."

"Oh," he says, with a frown, "okay. Can we catch up tomorrow?"

"We'll have to see," I say. "I've got to go Quinn. Bye."

I am up the stairs faster than I thought possible, but instead of going to my office, I make a beeline for the bar in the restaurant.

"Ready for your gin and tonic?" Chow asks when I sit down at a bar stool.

I shake my head. "Make it a tequila shot."

"That bad?" he asks, though grabs a shot glass and begins to fill it.

"Worse."

The first shot does nothing, and I order a second. By the time I'm on my third, my breathing has evened out. I convince myself that it was bound to happen at some point, that I wouldn't have been able to avoid running into Quinn over the week, and that getting it over with earlier was better.

I bury my face in my hands, and nearly jump off my bar stool when I feel a warm hand on my back.

"Whoa!" its owner says, reaching out to grab me before I fall. As soon as my balance is regained, I sit up and turn around.

"Eric!" I exclaim. I don't even want to begin to examine my pleasure at seeing him.

"Who were you expecting?"

"Um… no one. I…"

He looks at the three empty shot glasses in front of me and then turns his attention back to me, his face full of concern. "Everything okay there champ?"

"Not really," I say, and slump against the bar.

"Portia getting under your skin?"

"No," I shake my head.

"Oh," he says, and takes the seat next to me. "Anything I can help with?"

"Not really," I repeat, and shake my head.

"Hmm," he says with a nod. "Well," he leans in, "it looks like you're using one of my favorite problem solvers."

He picks up one of the empty shot glasses and sniffs it. "Tequila?" I nod. "This is more serious than I thought. I know exactly what you need."

"It's not tequila?"

"No," he says with mock solemnity, "though there can be tequila involved. What you need has to be administered by a licensed professional."

"And you, I'm assuming, are the licensed professional in question?"

"Of course," he says, with a nod.

"Is this some joke about you administering yourself to me, professionally?" I ask skeptically. "Cause I can tell you, that ain't happening Eric."

"No," he says with a laugh. "Though I wish I would have thought of that." He shrugs. "But this will require you to leave here with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't think getting drunk at the hotel is a good idea," he points out. "It's all a matter of perspective."

He's right, and although I'm not drunk yet, I know that if I stay here I will be.

"No funny business?" I ask, wobbling as I stand up.

"Me?" he asks innocently. "What could you possibly have to be worried about from me?"

I scrunch my face at him and take his extended hand. "You're right. It can't be worse than what I've already been through today."

"You are too flattering, Sookie Stackhouse," he says with a chuckle and pulls me to his side.

"What can I say?" I ask and stumble over my feet. "It's part of my charm."

AN: Thanks again to all those who are reading the trials and tribulations of Surfer Eric. Stay tuned for more to come :D And thanks to pfloogs72 for being a willing and encouraging pre-reader!