It pisses him off that she’s annoyed by his presence, but she’ll have to deal with it. Suck it up like all that LA smog she lives with on a daily basis.
He has to duck all the way up the stairs, and when he finally squeezes his way around the corner, the porter is waving the room key against the sensor. “There are sixteen gourmet restaurants on resort property, unlimited meals and premium drinks.”
“Wait,” Solomon says. “Everything’s included?”
Tessie gives him a withering look. “That’s what all-inclusive is, Solomon. It’s unlimited.”
Unimpressed, he crosses his arms. “Sounds wasteful.”
“It’s not wasteful, it’s—” She breaks off as the door swings open to reveal the room with a flourish. “Five fucking stars,” Tessie gasps and then lunges inside.
The porter grins. “She’s fast, se?or.”
Solomon nods, fighting his own grin. “She is.”
“Shit,” he says, following her in, rubbing suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. Instantly, he’s out of his element.
Just like Tessie—the room’s a stunner. A large luxurious sitting area with an L-shaped sofa, a coffee table that looks like a concrete slab, and velvet chairs. A master bedroom with a plush king-sized bed. Marble tile. Art deco palm tree prints hang on the wall. Their bags are already on baggage trays in the bedroom.
Amused, Solomon watches Tessie flit around the room, running her fingers over every surface. Metal. Silk. Wood. She’s like a run-on sentence in heels. She turns in a circle, practically levitating as she drinks in the room. Barely able to stay in one place before rushing over to examine a new piece of décor. His breath catches as he watches her. Hands pulled to her heart, her mouth open in awe as she drinks in the glossy room.
It means something to her. This vacation.
She pauses at the bar where bottles of Tito’s beckon. “Oh, would you look at this live edge slab?” Her neon-pink nails tap out a beat along the veneered countertop. And then she’s off and moving again, a chorus of oohs and ahhs trailing in her wake.
“Are you. . .” He pauses. “Sniffing the pillows?”
Her cheeks flush pink, a round pillow clutched in her hands. “It’s my thing, okay?”
Amused, he shrugs. “Whatever you say. Do your thing, Tessie.” He thinks on it. “Design, right?”
“That’s right.”
He’s reaching into his pocket for cash to tip the porter when Tessie lunges in front of him, beating him to it. She glides back to the sitting area, drifting toward a large swath of curtains that Solomon can only assume hides the terrace from view.
“Interiors.” A toss of her long blond hair. “Transforming spaces. Making them pretty.”
Solomon watches her brown eyes metronome across the living room. “What are you doing?”
“I’m thinking about colors.”
“Colors.”
“Like matching colors.” She pauses, explains. “In interior design, we have a palette. Like there’s blue, the base color, but it doesn’t stop there. There’s blue with green undertones or yellow, or—” She snaps her mouth shut. Smiles. “I’m losing you.”
“A little.”
“There are these things called Pantone colors. Standardized colors that ensure that the color you want is the color you get. No surprises.” A smug smile grows on her face. “I can assign a color to anything.”
“Then what’s this?” He points at a gray faux fur blanket draped over the sofa.
Without missing a beat, she says, “Lava smoke.”
He can’t help it. “What about my eyes?”
Nostrils flaring slightly, Tessie tosses her hair. “Haven’t thought about it.” With a little shimmy, she makes her way to the button on the wall beside the linen curtains. “Should we see what this does?” She sends him an excited look over her shoulder and then presses it. A squeal tears out of her as the curtains slice open to reveal a spacious terrace overlooking the Pacific.
With another gasp, Tessie shoves open the sliding glass doors, a blast of salty sea air gusting past.
Even Solomon has to admit: the view’s goddamn great.
The ocean’s practically in their backyard. Mangrove trees hang on either side of the balcony. The sound of crashing waves drifts up over the beach. Hammock. Jacuzzi. A seating area with beach furniture and chaise lounges.
As Tessie moves to the wrought-iron railing, every muscle in his body goes on red alert. The sight of her and his son on the edge of the balcony, perched next to the mid-hip railing, scares the ever-loving shit out of him.
She’s safe, Sol. Serena’s quiet voice swirls around him. She’s safe.
To calm his nerves, he joins her. Relief washes through him the second he’s beside her. Steadying his heartbeat, the panicked tripping of his pulse.
“Damn good view.”
“It is.” She raises her phone for a photo, then lowers it, wrinkles her nose. “It never looks the same in photos.”
“That’s why you should enjoy it in the moment.”
Her lips quirk up. “How very Buddha of you, Solomon.”
He chuckles wryly. “You want a good view, you should come to Chinook.”
She tilts her head, her long blond hair waterfalling around her shoulders. “What’s Chinook?”
“A little town outside of Anchorage. Where I live. Chinook, Alaska.”
“Alaska.” Side-eying him, she fakes a shiver. “God. That’s like opposite ends of the spectrum. What, is it snowing there right now?”
“Could be.” September’s early for snow, but it’s been known to happen.
She arches a brow, a faint smile on her lips. “Still the best place for stars?”
His heart stirs at the memory of that night. “Damn straight.”
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
“Does that thing ever stop?” Solomon grunts. Her phone’s been going off since he found her, stirring a real urge in him to toss it off the terrace.
Chest heaving, she gives an exaggerated sigh, breaking eye contact with him to scrutinize her phone. “If only.”
The catch in her voice has him giving her a closer look.
Her words are laced with the same despondent tone she used when she said, “I’m not that terrible.” And it makes him want to hit something. Most likely the person on the other end of that phone.
She raises the device, taps out a frantic text, then turns on her heel and flounces off.
Solomon tracks her movement, watching her petite frame disappear into the bedroom. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, a strange helplessness bobbing around inside him like a lost buoy. He’s wondered about this girl for the last six months—her name, where she’s from, why she ran out on him the next morning—and now she’s here, but all he can do is make stilted conversation.
Everything about this is awkward. He’s stuck with her for three goddamn days. One part of him wants to stick to business, figure out how to raise their son, then hop the next plane back to Chinook. Another part, the part that can’t deny that night between them, wants to know more about her. Wants to tell her she shined a light on him, and he hasn’t been the same since.
Turning back to the water, Solomon inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of salt and surf. Mexico doesn’t have snow or mountains, but at least it’s not a cement city. He scans the horizon. A catamaran floats lazily across the ocean. The waves crash on the beach. The—
Shrill scream coming from the bedroom.
Alarm has him bolting, has adrenaline instantly coursing through his veins.
“Tessie?” he calls, charging into the bedroom.
She stands next to the plush king-sized bed, wearing a terry cloth robe over her jumpsuit, a stricken look on her pretty face.
He grasps her arm, pulling her away from the invisible threat. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Heart pounding, he searches for the culprit. A rodent he can shoo; maybe a bug he can pound with his boot.
“This.” She gestures, her arms cartwheeling frantically. “Holy shit. This is my worst nightmare. There’s only one bed. One bed, Solomon.”
“Christ. That’s it?” He breathes hard, his pulse doing some strange herky-jerky beat. This woman’s making him sweat, making him lose his shit, and he’s only known her for a few hours. “I’ll sleep on the couch, okay?”
Her tight expression relaxes a bit, and she blinks. “You will?”