Page 29 of Renegade
I chuckle. Gemma is the only person on the planet who can put away as much coffee as I can. She’s already reaching for the room service menu as I head into the bathroom to take a shower. When I emerge, she’s dressed in yoga pants and my T-shirt, and judging by the tight little points poking at the soft fabric of the shirt, she isn’t wearing a bra. I stifle a groan.
“I stole your shirt,” she says unnecessarily. “Mine had some rum punch on it, and the rest of my clothes are in my bag I left in the bathroom.”
I wonder briefly what would have happened if she’d come into the bathroom to get it.
“No worries. It looks a hell of a lot better on you than me anyway. When’s the food going to be here?”
“I need to tell you something,” she says gravely.
“Okay.” Her tone has fingers of dread tightening around my heart.
“You should sit down. It’s bad news.”
I sink down onto the bed. I don’t know how much more bad news I can take. I steel myself for the worst. “Shoot.”
“Room service stops delivering breakfast at ten.”
I stare at her. “That’s the bad news?”
“Well, yeah. Hello…have you seen the size of the coffeemaker they provide?” She nods at the tiny coffeemaker sitting on the counter. “I don’t know why they don’t put full-size coffeemakers in hotel rooms. Who the hell only drinks one tiny cup of coffee?” She shoots me an impish grin. “I guess I’ll just have to fight you for it.”
Relief has me feeling almost giddy. “I’ve got an idea.” I pick up the hotel phone and punch in the number for the front desk. A woman answers. “Is Kevin working today? Perfect. Can I speak to him?”
I’m aware of Gemma’s eyes on me, and I switch the phone to speaker as Kevin comes on the line, his chipper attitude unsubdued by the telephone. “This is Kevin. How can I help you make it a beautiful day by the bay with your bae?” he chirps.
“Hey, Kevin, this is Walker Kinkaid. Room 511. The honeymoon suite. Listen, man, I need your help. My beautiful bride and I haven’t left the room since we checked in yesterday.” I lower my voice confidentially. “She insisted we wait until marriage, but she must have been repressing a lot, because she’s been insatiable.” I hear Gemma’s muffled laughter, but I don’t dare look at her. “I’m fucking exhausted. I need some food, and apparently room service stopped serving breakfast a few minutes ago. Can you help me out? I don’t know how much longer I can go.”
There’s dead silence on the other end of the line, and then Kevin clears his throat and says, “Of course, sir. What would you like?”
“Whatever’s easy. Just make sure there’s lots and lots of coffee.”
“I’ll bring it up myself.” He hesitates for a minute and then adds under his breath, “Would you like me to see if I can get you some Viagra to go with that?”
I’m trying to hold back the laughter, but it’s hard. “Thanks, Kevin, but I’m good.”
When I hang up the phone, Gemma dissolves into giggles. “Oh. My. God. I cannot believe you did that,” she finally says, gasping for air. “You totally sold me up the river!”
“Well, you’re the one who told him we might stay in the room the whole time,” I argue. “And I scored us breakfast and coffee. And maybe a little blue pill.” We both burst out laughing again. “Why don’t you go shower while we’re waiting for the food? And pack your backpack with some clothes for tonight and tomorrow. I think with the late start we’re getting, we should plan to stay overnight somewhere along the way and come back here tomorrow morning.”
Twenty minutes later, Kevin arrives with a cart filled with steaming platters of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and fruit, along with two large carafes of coffee.
“Thanks, Kevin. You’re the man!” I say, clapping him on the back.
“On the contrary. I’m pretty sureyouare the man,” he says reverently.
I’m pressing a hundred-dollar bill into his hand when I hear the bathroom door open.
“Sweetie,” Gemma calls out, “there’s a detachable showerhead in here with some very interesting settings. Hurry up or I’m going to start without you.”
Kevin thanks me quickly and leaves with a wink, a smile, and the promise to help me with anything else I need during the rest of our stay.
“You’re pretty cool,” I say with a grin when Gemma emerges from the bathroom a minute after the door closes behind Kevin, looking sexy as hell in a pair of skinny jeans that hug every luscious curve and a black T-shirt with the words “Born to Be Wild” emblazoned across the front.
She shrugs. “I guess. Mostly thanks to you.” She sits down across from me and lifts the lid on the plate of bacon, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. Then she opens them, grabs a piece of bacon, and takes a bite. “Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t met you.”
“You would have been fine.” I pile a plate with eggs and toast and more bacon and hand it to her.
“I wouldn’t have, and you know it. I was a total bitch, and I never would have had any friends if it weren’t for you. You made me instantly cool by association. And possibly threats, although I still can’t prove that.”
