Morning sun drifts in through the curtains across the suite but we’ve been awake for far longer than he has.

A cat nap here. A kiss there. Hayden and I spent the night drifting in and out of each other. Each time I woke up, I wondered if this would be the real end to this dream and I’d find myself lying alone in my bed back in Los Angeles. Time to get up. Get some coffee. Go cut some hair.

But I’d see him lying beside me, tired and smiling, and I’d drift right back into our dream.

I shift deeper into his embrace and nudge his nose with mine. “You know the best part about waking up in your bed?” I ask.

Hayden’s lips curl against my shoulder. “What?”

“No one knows I’m here,” I answer, tingling from head-to-toe. “No interruptions.”

“No mothers banging on the door?”

“Exactly.” He leans in to kiss my collarbone and I sink beneath his weight. “Best morning ever,” I hum.

“Hell yeah—”

A knock strikes the door, killing the moment before it even begins.

I sigh. “I knew I shouldn’t have jinxed it.”

Hayden rises off the bed, his glorious rear end on display. “Don’t move,” he says, pointing at me as he grabs his jeans. “I’ll check it out.”

I smile and curl the bedsheet around me as I settle against the pillows. “Yes, sir,” I say.

Hayden steps into his pants and zips them up before peeking through the peephole. “Oh.” He grunts and flicks the lock free. “It’s just Ira.”

I pull the sheet a little higher over my breasts as he pops the door open a few inches.

“Hey, brother,” he greets. “What’s up?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find a Ms. Penelope Warren, would you?”

I sit up to hear better.

“I might,” Hayden answers. “Why?”

“Because a very concerned guest is downstairs screaming at the front desk that Penelope has gone missing. Hasn’t been seen since last night and the poor woman fears her daughter has been murdered by sex traffickers.”

I wince. Because of course, she is.

Hayden deflates and takes a step back, purposefully opening the door wide enough to give Ira a full view of his suite… the bed included.

“There,” Hayden says, gesturing at me. “No murder. No trafficking. Though, we might be a little guilty of the other thing…”

Ira smiles at me. “Ms. Warren,” he says.

“Hi,” I squeak, sheet clenched around my chest. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

He nods. “I’d appreciate that, ma’am. Thank you.”

Ira flashes a hard stare at Hayden, who merely smiles back as he slowly closes the door on his face.

I slink off the bed to search for my clothes.

“You sure?” Hayden asks me. “I could always just have him escort her out instead.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I step into my jeans and slide them up. “It’ll be all right. Just need to diffuse the situation and I’ll be back up here.”

“Better yet, meet me in the restaurant. I’ll buy you pancakes.”

I smile as I slip on my bra. “I do like the sound of pancakes.”

Hayden steps forward and plants a kiss on my brow. His body heat touches mine, sending a ripple of warmth down my spine.

“Good luck,” he says.

I quickly throw my shirt over my head and grab my clutch off the writing desk. “Thanks,” I say as I step into my shoes and head out into the hallway.

As I walk toward the elevator, I realize that I probably should have spent a few seconds in front of a mirror to tidy up first, but oh well.

I tap the call button and the elevator opens automatically. I step on, turning to check myself in the reflective golden wall as the lift starts its long descent downward toward the lobby. My hair is mess. Never did get a chance to comb through it after that swim in the pool… and the two hot showers I took throughout the night. I could use some make-up, too.

But that will all have to wait.

I should deal with my mother first.

The elevator reaches the lobby and I hear my mother’s voice as soon as the doors open. I catch sight of my parents at the far side just to the left of the front desk with Ira, who appears to be trying his very best to stay calm.

“What do you mean you can’t tell me what room she’s in?” my mother shrieks.

“Ma’am, with all due respect,” I hear Ira say, “that’s none of your business.”

She gasps. “None of my business? I’m her mother! Everything she does is my business!”

I sigh as I rush forward, dodging the inquisitive stares of people who have gathered to find out what the commotion is all about.

My mother looks in my direction and she deflates in both relief and annoyance. “Penelope!”

Ira turns to look at me over his thick shoulder and exhales a deep breath. “See? She’s fine. Now, please, calm down before the other guests start to complain.”

“Calm down?!”

My father stands taller. “Don’t tell my wife to calm down! Our daughter was missing all night!”

“Mom. Dad.” I hurry so I can speak softer. “Stop. I’m fine. I wasn’t missing. I’m right here.” I nod at Ira. “Thanks, Ira.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs.

My mother’s face screws up. “Ira? Who is this man? Who are you? Pen, how do you know this man?”

“He’s Ira Botsford, Mom,” I say, motioning for her to chill. “He works here.”

She pauses. “Oh,” she says, her eyes squinting at him. “Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

Ira bites down hard, his angry jaw obscured by his thick beard. “Excuse me,” he says through his teeth as he turns away from them.

I offer him an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” I whisper.

He passes me. “And here I thought my life would be easier as a civilian,” he quips for only me to hear.

I press my lips together, smothering my chuckle.

“Where have you been, Pen?” my mother asks. “We’ve been worried sick. And what’s wrong with your hair?”

“Trudy said you disappeared during the concert,” my father adds. “And you didn’t even show up to your date with Dylan!”

I cringe as I quickly gather my hair to one side. “I didn’t have a date with—”

“Where’s your phone?” she asks over me. “We’ve called you a million times.”

“I turned it off during the show,” I answer as I flip open my clutch to find it. “Forgot to turn it back on after I left with Hayden.”

She turns her nose up at the mention of his name. “Hayden?”

“I thought you two broke up,” my father says.

“No, actually, we didn’t,” I say.

“You weren’t…” she pauses, dreading the question, “with him all night, were you?”

I groan. “Yes, Mom. I was.”

“Honey…” Her face drips with disappointment. “He’s not right for you. We agreed that you would give Dylan a chance and—”

“No,” I say, surprising myself. “No, there was no agreement at all. There was me saying one thing and you speaking just a little bit louder and assuming you were right. As usual.”

She’s taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“God, Mom…” I laugh. I can’t help it. “When are you going to get it through your head?”

“What do you mean?”

“Me and Dylan are never going to happen!” I say.

“But he’s a good man,” she says.

“No. No, he’s not. He’s creepy and self-serving and oh-so-boring! I can’t stand him and I never have.”

She gasps. “He is not boring! He’s just like your father.”

I hesitate. “Yeah, well…”

My father blinks twice. “Dylan is not just like me! I’m a Harvard man! That boy went to Yale.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom, why would I want to date a guy just like my father?”

“He’s honorable and loyal,” she answers. “Unlike that… baseball player. Have you seen his social media? It’s like a harem of sorority girls — the state school kind.”

“So?” I ask.

Her jaw drops. “So?”

“Yeah. So? He’s a good-looking, popular guy. He spends months out of the year training and traveling to hundreds of stadiums. If he wants to let off steam with parties and state school sorority girls, then who gives a shit?”

“Wel— I— you— ju—” She exhales hard. “I just don’t know who you are anymore, Penelope.”

“Never, Mom.” I sigh. “You’ve never known who I am. You’ve known who you want me to be. You’ve known Penelope McCoy; Attorney at Law. But you’ve never bothered to get to know me. Penelope Warren; Hairdresser.” I swallow. “Fake girlfriend of the third baseman for Los Angeles.”

“Fake?” my father repeats as my mother can’t speak.

I nod. “Yes. Fake. I met Hayden thirty seconds before you arrived here on Friday when I slipped him twenty bucks to pretend to be my boyfriend. I knew you’d be shoving Dylan in my face the entire time and using another man as a buffer is the only way I can get any peace during these stupid family reunions!”

My father joins her in speechless shock.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I take a breath. “I’m gonna go eat some pancakes.”

I spin around, putting my back to them.

Holy shit.

Did I really just do that?

Did I really?

Holy.

Shit.

Okay, start walking. One foot in front of the other…

I will myself to move, practically knocking my shaking ankles together with each step forward but at least I freakin’ did it.

I pick up my pace toward the restaurant as a smile digs deep into my cheeks.

“Pen?”

Dylan stands about ten feet away from me in the lobby.

I could stop my purposeful stride, have a heart-to-heart with the guy, and once again try to make him see the light but my tongue moves before I can filter it.

“Hey,” he says. “About last night…”

“Fuck off, Dylan,” I say without breaking stride.

Best morning ever.