You know those moments when you think you hear something but are convinced you misunderstood? Like when you think your doctor says you have crabs but really, she’s asking if you’ve had cramps. Or when you’re a waitress and you think the customer is flirting with you when his girlfriend goes to the restroom so when she comes back you ask if he really wanted your telephone number, and he says no, he was confirming which number meal you recommend. Only one of those scenarios was a misunderstanding. And I’m hoping what this woman at the hotel is telling us is the second misunderstanding.
“I don’t understand. I made the reservation online.” Lucas is visibly frustrated and yet still manages to look like a model.
“Sir, so you’ve said. Unfortunately, that isn’t what I’m showing, and we’re booked otherwise. I can refer you to another hotel if you like.”
“Give us a minute, okay?” The clerk nods in agreement to his question and motions the next people in line to the counter. Lucas and I step aside, and I see the exhaustion on his face as he rubs his hand from his forehead to his chin and lets out a long sigh.
“I’m sorry, Whitney. I know I marked two rooms. I don’t know what happened. Why don’t we try another hotel? I’m sure one around here has two rooms.”
I should agree. I should not consider sharing a room with Lucas. But the room they’re offering us does have two beds, and the clerk has already told us most of the hotels are likely booked with a big convention in town. Biting my bottom lip, I scrunch up my face with indecision. To hell with it.
“No. Let’s take the room. We’re already here. It’s fine.”
“If you’re sure. I don’t want to make this awkward. At least there are two beds, I guess.”
“Exactly. Come on. We need to get you a beer, and I could go for a glass of wine and a hot shower.”
Lucas smiles, and we return to the front desk to finish our check-in. The clerk hands us two keys, and we take our belongings and turn toward the elevator. And, like there’s some sort of tracker on me, my phone begins ringing with Jessi’s designated ringtone. My hands are too full to answer so I ignore the call and let it go to voicemail. Which I know she won’t use and, in a few minutes, my phone will ping with a text message before it rings again.
Shrugging I say, “Jessi.”
“Kind of figured with the ringtone.”
When we arrive at our floor, we exit the lift and confirm which direction we need to go. Exhaustion hits me the moment we reach our door. If I’m this tired, I can only imagine how tired Lucas must be from driving. You’d never know with how much pep is in his step. More pep than usual, I notice.
“Excited to get in the room?” I tease.
“I have to take a piss like no other.”
Laughing, I wait for him to toss the door open and drop his bag on the floor before setting his beer on the counter and rushing into the bathroom. As I step into the room, I see it is an upgrade from the room we stayed in last night. Neutral earth tones are the theme. A large window overlooks the pool, which is lit up with a rainbow of lights. Families are playing in the water, and it makes me smile.
There are two large, and what look to be quite plush, queen beds flanking either side of a side table that has a docking station and lamp. A large television, probably at least fifty inches, sits atop a huge piece of furniture. Opening one of the large doors, I find the refrigerator and grab my wine from the bag and place it in there. I’d grab Lucas’s beer, but it’s close to the restroom and I don’t want to be a creeper.
As expected, my phone dings with a text message. I retrieve the phone from my tote and open Jessi’s text message.
Jessi: Just checking on you.
Me: I’m good. We just checked into the hotel. We’re going to get showered and head out for dinner. Portland tomorrow!
Jessi: Sounds great. All is well here. I’ve confirmed with the wedding planner everything on the Monday list and sent out the Tuesday emails.
Me: Wow. You’re so efficient. I should’ve had you helping me all along.
Jessi: Yeah well, I’m trying to make sure dickhead doesn’t feel the need to come by my place again.
Me: I should call him.
Jessi: No. Let him stew. You have fun and tell Lucas hi. TTYL xo
Me: Thanks again. Xoxo
“Was that Jessi?”
I jump at the sound of Lucas’s voice and when I turn around my breath catches. Standing before me is a wet version of what I had a front row seat for just two nights ago. Sweet peppers, he’s hot.
“Uh, you showered,” I stammer. No shit, Whitney.
“Yeah. I figured I’d just bang it out while I was in there.” I gulp and wonder how bad my wine would taste warm because it suddenly got hot in here, and I can’t help but wonder what else he “banged out” while he was in the shower. “I used their shampoo and stuff. It’s all yours now if you’d like to get ready. I’ll get dressed then get us some ice to speed along the cooling process for the beer and wine.”
“Uh . . . yeah . . . oh . . . uh.” I have no words as I watch a drop of water slowly run from his pectoral down to his abs. Like a luge, that baby slid right on down. Holy crap. You could drink champagne off this guy’s body, and I bet it’d taste fantastic.
Laughing, Lucas steps aside and gestures for me to pass him toward the bathroom. Blinking out of my daze, I offer a smile as my face heats with embarrassment before grabbing my suitcase and shopping bag.
“I’ll take this all with me and will be quick, I promise.”
“Take your time,” he says as he bends at the waist and picks up his bag. My eyes widen as the side of the towel opens a little, and I see a glimpse of his thigh. I need to get hold of myself and fast. I’m like a goddamn dog in heat.
There is no way I can go one more day without washing my hair. Especially after having Fred and Wilma climb all over it last night. As the water heats and fills the room with steam, I rummage through my luggage and locate my toiletries and a clean bra, as well as a pair of new panties from the shopping bag, before stripping off my clothes and climbing into the shower. Lather, rinse, and no repeat tonight; I need to move my ass.
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling my new jeans and top from the shopping bag and snapping off the tags. My mother would kill me if she saw me doing this. She swears ripping the tags is a sure-fire way to get holes in your new clothes. She’d really be freaked if she saw me use my teeth on the thicker tag on the shirt. Whoops. Sorry, Mom.
Once I’ve finished dressing in the edgier black jeans and one of the T-shirts I picked up at the store, I grab a necklace and set of bangles from my toiletry bag. Slipping my feet into the pair of flats I had in my luggage, I assess my appearance. Not too bad for a thirty-minute rush to get ready. Normally, I’d spend more time on my hair but tonight, I’m going with the natural look.
When I turn the corner from the vanity area to the main part of the room, Lucas is lounging on his bed. Sockless, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a collared polo shirt with a beer raised to his lips, he looks relaxed. And sinful.
What is wrong with me? Why is it every time I see him, it’s like I get smacked in the face with hormones? Hormones that remind me of how I felt every day in class when he’d smile at me and lean over to explain something with the lesson. Or when he’d walk with me between classes and tell me corny jokes.
“That was fast. Your wine should be chilled, would you like a glass before we go?”
“Oh. Yeah sure, but maybe to go? I’m kind of starving now.” Lucas laughs and nods as he pulls one of the paper coffee cups from the little display on the console and pours a glass of white wine. I take the offered cup and let my taste buds dance to the tartness I love. The upside to liking a dry wine, I never have to share with Trenton.
Trenton.
I should be thinking of Trenton and not how fucking sexy Lucas looks putting socks on. Distraction by way of wine, I take another sip from my cup and pretend not to watch Lucas put his shoes on.
“Shall we?” he asks, gesturing for the door. I start to grab my tote and then decide the only item I really need is my wallet. Grabbing it from the bag, I step toward the door and into the hallway as Lucas follows.
I know it’s just a saying, but I am currently a prime example of “food coma.” I went from starved to full quickly but that likely has less to do with the meal I ordered and more because Lucas insisted I not only have two glasses of wine with my dinner but we also share a dessert. I feel like I’m carrying a food baby, and if I don’t get out of these jeans, I’m going to split them.
“I think I may have overdone it a bit.”
“Ya think?”
“You can’t pass up a homemade cobbler, ever.” I’ll give the guy credit, he’s strong in his convictions when it comes to cobbler.
“I need out of these clothes and in bed fast or I may die.” Lucas coughs at my statement, and I realize what I said. “Oh stop. You know what I mean. If I knew you were going to order half the menu, I would have worn my leggings. Like on Thanksgiving, my eatin’ pants.”
Lucas laughs and any awkwardness I caused with my statement diminishes as we continue our walk to the hotel. By the time we reach our room, I’m yawning, and my pace has slowed to that of a snail.
I step through the door and immediately unbutton my jeans and rummage through my bag for my new pajamas and set out for the bathroom to change.
“Do you mind if I use this second sink to brush my teeth while you’re changing?” Lucas asks.
“Nope, have at it.”
By the time I finish washing my makeup off and piling my hair on top of my head, I’ve yawned no less than four times. I’m going to sleep like I’ve never slept before, and I cannot wait. Exiting the bathroom, I flip the light and the darkness of the room startles me. Taking a few steps around the corner, the glow of the small lamp between our beds allows enough light for me to not trip on anything and make it to my bed. I look over to find Lucas sitting in his bed. Gone is his tight T-shirt as he sits with his back against the headboard, the covers pulled up to his waist, and his perfectly sculpted chest on full display.
Ah hell, he’s wearing glasses and reading. Hot dude with a book, and my damn ovaries roll over and beg him to pay attention. Spank bank updated.
“Will it bother you if I read for a bit? I only have about three chapters left of this.” He holds up his paperback and I note it’s a popular thriller I’ve seen at the bookstore.
“Nope. Normally I’d read a bit before I fall asleep, but I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open long enough.”
“I get it. I’m used to being up late, so this is nothing for me. I’m tired but can’t really shut my brain off. This helps.”
Well, now I feel like I need to at least attempt to read. Lucas only laughs as he turns his attention back to his paperback. I scoot across the bed and hop to the dresser-cupboard thing the television rests on to get my tote. I locate my tablet and realize I didn’t take my phone with me to dinner because it’s in the bag too. Snatching the charger and my phone, I turn to find Lucas watching me. It isn’t lost on me that his eyes are currently gazing at my lower region, my legs specifically. Popping a hip, I clear my throat to grab his attention, and he startles with a slow blush gracing his olive skin.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “You can’t blame a guy for looking.”
“Would you like me to spin? Do a little catwalk?” I tease, but I would do it if he asked. Which should feel wrong, yet it doesn’t.
“Shut up. It’s nice to see you in your glasses.”
An eye roll and dismissive hand is my response before looking at my phone. I have a few missed calls and half a dozen texts. Plugging in my phone, I settle back into the bed before tapping my screen. The calls are from my mom, which also explains the texts from Jessi warning of my mother’s attempts to reach me.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Lucas sets his book down and turns his attention to me. Like I can concentrate with him shirtless and wearing glasses.
“Just my mom. I’ll call her tomorrow, it’s late.” I’m talking more to myself than Lucas as I tap out a quick text to Jessi.
Me: I didn’t take my phone to dinner. Sorry!
Jessi: Your mom is all freaked out that you’re a runaway bride.
Me: She’s a little dramatic.
Jessi: Well, I mean if the running shoe fits . . .
Me: Hey! This was YOUR idea!
Me: I’ll call her tomorrow.
Jessi: Eh, I told her you were on some spiritual journey and finding your Zen or some shit.
Me: Uh, thanks?
Jessi: I had on the Housewives and they were doing yoga. Seemed like a valid response so I went with it.
Me: Saved by reality TV. Thanks.
Jessi: Are you lonely in your room?
Me: Not exactly.
Jessi: OMG! Whitney Nicole Wheeler! You dirty girl.
Me: Please. I’m in my own bed. I better go. I’m being rude.
Jessi: I’m totally down for a payback fuck. Go for it!
Me: Say goodnight, Jessi.
Jessi: Goodnight, Jessi.
“Everything okay?”
Reading is not happening tonight, so I set my tablet down as I snuggle into my bed and turn on my side to face Lucas. While he waits for my response, he follows suit and mimics my position.
“Yeah, my mom’s worried and Jessi’s running interference. I’ll call my mom tomorrow and calm her down.”
Nodding, he reaches over and flips the switch on the lamp. The room is pitch black immediately, and it takes a few blinks for my eyes to adjust. I consider continuing our conversation but think better of it.
“Night, Lucas.”
“Sweet dreams, Whit.”
I’m not certain how sweet my dreams will be, but they’ll likely star a shirtless eyeglass-wearing stripper who smells like mint and makes me believe there are good guys in this world.