Rather than interrupt him (and his blatant attempt at flirting), Sarah decided to tour the rest of the place, hoping he’d be finished with his conversation when she returned. As she strolled through, Sarah noted the different attractions that made the hotel a vacation hot spot. Through a wall of windows, she could see the clear blue water of a huge outdoor pool. At the far corner, which was surrounded by a white stone wall, there was a waterslide as well as what looked to be a lazy river, but she couldn’t be sure. The outdoor area was closed, but she could imagine it being full to bursting with people during the summer months.
Overall, it was a nice place; she’d give Bill that. She’d never been in a resort such as this, though she’d checked them out on the Internet before. Due to the proximity of the place to her house, she couldn’t justify spending quite so much to stay at a hotel when staying at her own house wouldn’t cost her anything extra. If it were in another state, perhaps she’d splurge. One day.
Truth was, she’d always been frugal with her money. Ever since her sister, Tara, had decided that being a mother wasn’t something she wanted to do with her life—after she’d had Jake—Sarah had been helping their mother raise Jake, financially and physically. Her mother had always had health issues, so much of the responsibility had fallen on Sarah. Not that she’d minded. Jake had always been a good kid. But her sister’s abandonment had hurt them all.
That didn’t mean Sarah didn’t think about Tara. She did. All the time. Now that Tara was married to some biker, living up in Oklahoma, Sarah rarely heard from her. The last time Tara had come for a visit had been when Paul died, six years ago.
Pushing her hand into her pocket, Sarah fingered the plastic key card and considered going back up to her room, packing her things, calling a cab, and then hightailing it out of there before Bill was even aware she was gone.
“There you are.”
Too late.
Sarah sighed, then turned around to see Bill strolling toward her, a huge grin on his face. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
“Are you hungry?”
Was she? She didn’t know.
“If we go to the steakhouse now, there won’t be a wait.”
Sarah wasn’t sure why that mattered. Based on her surroundings, she wasn’t sure what else they were going to do there.
Bill must’ve seen the question in her eyes because he took her hand in his and tugged. “Come on. Let’s eat. Then we can change and we’ll go out.”
“Out?” she asked, peering up at him.
Another brilliant smile landed on his lips. “You didn’t think this was all there was, did you?”
Actually, yes. In fact, she hadn’t brought anything to wear to go out. She had assumed—obviously incorrectly—that whatever event Bill wanted her to accompany him to would’ve been at this hotel.
Crap.
Bill chuckled as they approached the hostess stand just outside the steakhouse inside the resort. He rattled off his name, and the hostess graciously grabbed two menus, then led them through the dimly lit restaurant to a table at the back. The waiter quickly stopped by, informed them of their specials, offered the wine list, and then disappeared as soon as Bill made a selection and told him they needed a few minutes to look at the menu.
Sarah wasn’t hungry, but she was curious. “Where’re we going?” she asked, unable to keep the question to herself. She knew he’d wanted to surprise her, but honestly, this place was much more than she’d anticipated.
“You’ll see when we get there. It’s by invitation only, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Can you give me a hint?” she probed. For some reason, she was beginning to get a weird feeling about all of it. Maybe that was her conscience eating away at her for accepting this invitation in the first place when she had no intention of taking their relationship to the next level.
“It’s a highly coveted place. Not easy to get an invitation, I assure you. But they know my boss, and I’ve been assured we’ll get the royal treatment. And don’t worry, I know you’ll have a great time.”
She wasn’t sure how he knew that considering they’d only been out a handful of times. He knew what she’d willingly divulged about herself, and the sad thing was, she hadn’t told him much.
The waiter returned, and Sarah felt obligated to order something, so she selected a small filet and a salad, hoping that wouldn’t cost too much. Her guilt was eating at her and she wished she’d never agreed to this in the first place.
But now, it seemed it was far too late to worry about that.
“STACEY, HONEY,” DYLAN BEGAN AS he stared at his daughter in disbelief and possibly a little horror, “what the hell did you do to your hair?”
He was pretty sure she hadn’t looked like that the last time he’d seen her, but, shit, he’d been so lost in himself lately Dylan honestly couldn’t have said for sure. Truth was, he hadn’t paid attention to much of anything in his life for years, certainly not the little details.
“Dad!” Stacey laughed, self-consciously sliding her hand over her dark hair, which now had hot pink chunks blended into it. “Knock it off.”
“What?” Dylan probed innocently. “Your hair … was not that color on Tuesday when I saw you at dinner.” Pink. Really? “A father has a right to know when his child is havin’ some sort of … breakdown.”
“I happen to think it looks awesome,” a gravelly voice countered, pulling Dylan’s attention away from his daughter.
Pops came ambling into the kitchen, a little slower these days, a smile on his aged face as he leveled his golden-brown eyes at Stacey. Dylan rolled his eyes. Xavier Thomas was in his eighties. What did he know about fashion statements of college kids?
“Of course you would,” Dylan said slyly, forcing a smile as he continued to stare at his daughter’s outrageous hairdo before turning his attention to his grandfather.
Pops shot him a glare—his way of intimidating Dylan into keeping his mouth shut. Generally, that look didn’t work, because Dylan had spent most of his life rebelling against his grandfather, but today, he managed to keep his comments to himself.
“Thanks, Pops,” Stacey crooned before stealing an apple from the counter and disappearing as quickly as she’d appeared.
“That girl,” Dylan mused. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her. Next thing you know, she’ll have her face pierced.”
“She’s twenty-three. What do you expect?” Pops teased.
Before his grandfather could say anything more, in walked Dylan’s son, Nate, who, unlike Dylan’s daughter, wasn’t smiling. Thankfully, Nate’s hair was normal, though. Dylan wasn’t sure what he’d do if both of his kids went wild. As it was, he was still having a hard time getting used to the fact that Nate was twenty-one years old and more than a couple of inches taller than Dylan was. The kid he’d known had grown into a fine young man.
“Hey, Dad. Pops,” Nate greeted coolly. “Have either of you talked to Alex?”
“I stopped by his house earlier. Why?” Dylan questioned.