Page 10 of Secret Offer
The second I send the text, my heart starts beating faster. I’ve basically just flashed a neon sign at the guy that says, “Please ask me out now.” When he doesn’t immediately text back, I start to second-guess myself. Scrolling back through our conversation, I try to figure out if I came on too strong, or not strong enough, or if I should follow up my last text with some kind of invitation. I’m a modern woman, after all. I can ask him out, can’t I?
“Hey!” Brooke says, sidling up to me with another random guy at her side. “This is Chase. He just graduated, like us! From Texas A&M.”
“Congratulations,” I say to the guy, dropping my cell into my lap.
“Thank you. Congrats to both of you, too.” He smiles, and it’s a good one. He’s blond and athletic, kind of a surfer type, with a little bit of a sunburn on his nose.
“He majored inExercise Science,” Brooke adds, waggling her brows pervily at me. “And he’s staying at Espadrilles, too. Isn’t thatsofunny?”
“So funny,” I say, watching her take an impressive number of gulps from the fishbowl. “It’s nice to meet you, Chase.”
“Likewise,” he says.
Pretending to fiddle with my hair, I block the side of my face from Chase and silently mouth,Where’s the silver fox?toBrooke. She grins around the straw and then mouths back,Who cares?
We order a pizza topped with grilled pineapple and something called “island fries” off the happy hour menu, but the music is so loud that we don’t get to talk much while we’re eating. I listen to Chase explain how he wants to be a physical therapist for professional athletes, and then a live band comes in and the lights go even dimmer. Brooke seems to take this as some kind of cue.
“So,” she says, sliding off her stool and leaning her head on Chase’s shoulder, “I think we’re gonna head back to the hotel to check out Chase’s room. It’s number 4413. Chase, let her take a picture of your face to be safe.”
I pull out my phone again and snap a photo, making sure I get a clear shot.
“Let’s meet back up for breakfast in the morning,” Brooke adds, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “I have the FindMe app turned on if you need to check on me. Oh, and I’ll Venmo you for the drink.”
“Don’t worry about the drink. Go have fun,” I say. “And be careful. See you at breakfast.”
Brooke gives me a quick hug and then practically drags Chase out the door. I watch them leave with a smile on my face. Maybe I’ll go back to the room and watch a movie. Order room service if I feel like it, or go for a dip in one of the hotel’s fancy hot tubs.
As I start to dig some cash out of my pocket so I can settle the bill and get out of here, I feel a buzz again in my lap. Dammit, I told Brooke not to bother with the Venmo. But when I pick up my phone and look at the screen, it’s not a notification from the payment app. It’s another text from Scowl.
So should we get out of here, too?
He’s here right now? Breath catching, I look around and spot Mr. Scowl himself at the other end of the bar, gesturing at me as he hands a credit card to the bartender. The bartender nods, and I realize that Scowl is paying my tab. Shaking my head, I slide off my stool and walk over to him.
The hotel room is all mine tonight, this man is fine as hell, and my nails are just bright red enough to give me the confidence I need to make my move.
Leaning in close, I whisper in his ear, “Yes. I think we should definitely get out of here.”
The whole walk back to the resort, we hold hands. Neither of us even asks, we just fall into it naturally, like we aren’t perfect strangers. And honestly? It’s nice. More than nice. The heat of our palms pressed together has my whole body tingling, and I swear I can feel my pulse throbbing between my legs.
At first there are so many other people around us, so much laughter interspersed with loud voices and louder music spilling from cafés and clubs on the street, that all I’m focused on is getting through the noise and the bright lights. But the closer we get to Espadrilles, the more the chaos fades, and soon Scowl is giving me a lesson in Whiskey 101. He talks about the classes of grains used in mash, different types of aging barrels, the nuances of Japanese versus Scottish versus Canadian whiskeys.
I have questions, and he has answers. So many answers, in fact, that I blurt, “How do you know so much about whiskey, anyway? Do you work for a distillery?”
He laughs. “I do not. One of my best friends runs a bar, though.”
“Is it here on the island?” I ask, as if I’m interested in going, even though I’m really just trying to see if Scowl will mention the city he lives in.
“No,” is all he says, not giving me any further information.
Once we get through the hotel lobby, I tug him toward the bank of elevators and push the call button. When the first set of steel doors slides open, I’m pleased to see we have the car all to ourselves.
“I have a very fancy room,” I tell him as we step inside and I punch the high number for my floor.
My parents booked a two-bedroom luxury suite for me and Brooke, and I’ve been enjoying every second of it. Rolling around in my huge king size bed, wrapping myself in the fluffy monogrammed bathrobe after taking a ridiculously long shower every morning, ordering ice cream from room service at midnight. It beats my NYU freshman-year dorm by a long shot, believe me.
Thinking back to the way Scowl was staring out at the ocean today, I add, “There’s a balcony with a view of the water, too. I think you’ll really?—”
My sentence is cut off as he presses me against the wall, dipping his head toward mine. I lift my chin, eyes on his mouth, licking my lips in anticipation of the kiss, but instead he leans in close to my ear and says, “I only care about the bed.”
