He smiled back over the rim of the mass-produced white ceramic mug. Sometimes she looked at him like she wanted to jump him, steamy-eyed and full bosom-heaving lust. Other times, like now, he couldn’t tell if she was being distantly polite or was nervous, her cheeks pink and smile tight.
After a lot of hunt-and-peck typing, although impressively fast, the concierge took the card and ran it, punching a few more things into the computer, leisurely making a little packet with the tide tables and list of restaurants. Knowing he was right there, she could at least work on two at once, or was he going to have to wait as long for her to do everything with the same measured perfection for him as well?
“All set,” the hostess said as she labeled a sleeve with a room number, stuffed two keys inside, and slid it across. “Your room is on the second floor.” She turned and gestured with her whole hand, “Elevator is immediately behind me on the other side of this wall, or you can head on outside and take the stairs. Would you like any help with your luggage?” She peered around cheerfully.
“No thanks, I’ve got it,” Trace said as she pushed to stand.
“Great. Help yourself to coffee and cookies anytime. Enjoy your stay, Miss Perry and Mr. Falk.”
Um…
Trace set her fingertips on the key sleeve and paused. “We’re both checked in? Room? Not… rooms?”
“Yes. That’s what the reservation said. Your friend Pippa is such a dear, so patient as we tried to get everyone on the second floor together—nothing but ocean in front of you, with the lighthouse to the north and a view of Rock Hollow Cove to the south. Stunning. Of course, the bride and groom got the corner room. Their loft is simply the sweetest. Your room is cozy with a high ceiling, a queen-sized bed, and there’s a table and two chairs. There’s a minifridge and coffee maker. Gas fireplace of course. Oh, and…” The woman blushed and beamed. “I didn’t want to give it away, but I want you to know it was all Pippa’s vision. The romance package add-on. Rose petals on the bed and a picnic basket with wine—she said you prefer white, but she wasn’t sure about Cole, so there’s red, too—rosemary olive bread from the local bakery, an assortment of cheeses from the local creamery, fresh berries and chocolates. All locally sourced. Very elegant.”
The woman looked ready to cry, gushing over the romantic mess.
“Pippa’s idea, huh? Great. That’s… wonderful.” Trace’s smile was gritted tight, her cheeks straining from the effort. “So… wow, so last minute, I’m so impressed you were able to find rooms for all of us, there must not have been any more rooms… not even in the hotel next door…”
“Oh. No. We are always booked. This was a miracle. I mean, the party that canceled…” The hostess cringed an apologetic, gossipy smile that showed all of her bottom teeth. “They did lose their deposit on all ten rooms.”
The man who had opened the door for them wandered closer with a cookie wrapped in a paper cocktail napkin and nodded emphatically. “Ten rooms. Can you believe it? Your friend’s timing was perfect, as the other rooms all filled up right after she called.”
“Wow. Amazing,” Trace held her hand over her chest and marveled at the coincidence, but Cole knew she was aghast in a very different way. “So thereweremore rooms available when she booked, and we just got that lucky, to have beaten the rest of the last minute vacationers?“ Trace kept up the phony smile, nodding with delight. None of the staff seemed to realize that Trace was absolutely not thrilled by all of this, but she was the queen of showing a polite face when everything went to shit.
“Let’s get settled,” Cole finally said, leaning around Trace and sweeping the keys off the desk.
“And the rest of town? For this place to be so full, is everywhere as… busy?”
Cole lifted his phony smile wider as Trace’s lack of acceptance burned louder. Was it really so horrible to share a room with him?
“Yes. Not so many families this time of year, as there’s not much for the kids to do when the weather is lousy, but Sunset Beach is a hot spot for couples this time of year. A glass of wine by the fire, surrounded by ocean storms? Stunning. We’re almost always booked months out.”
“Ha,” Trace’s phony smile was fading fast.
Cole tucked the keys in his pocket and slipped his hand into hers, dragging her along with him. The wind pushed back against the door as he leaned into it.
Their suitcases rumbled down the roughened concrete of the exterior walkway. Not much activity, but he could imagine the hotel would be hopping with dogs and kids in summer, sand everywhere.
He tapped the key over the door to their room, and the hostess was right. The room was stunning. And verycozy.
Walking past the vanity, closet, and bathroom, past the bed littered with red petals and the basket stuffed full of goodies on the table, he aimed straight for the slider and shoved it open.
Salty air washed over him. He stepped onto the deck and rested his elbows on the rail, adjusting so his weight was off his sore joints, and let it all sink in. A dull roar with scattered crashes, the ocean hummed its constant motion.
The tide was on its way in. Couples walked the length of the beach, bundled in raincoats and boots, some throwing sticks for dogs that ran circles around them, unfazed by the weather.
Behind him, he heard the pop of a cork, and he turned and walked inside.
Trace was uncorking the white wine and had two glasses set out. “Want some?”
“Yes,” he said on a long exhale. “Long drive.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving,” he admitted, realizing his blood sugar was in the toilet. “Think anyplace delivers around here? I’m not eager to get back in the car.”
“But your car is so pretty,” she said as she poured pale golden liquid into each of their glasses.
