Mrs. Poole and Mrs. Charleston are watching us, while drinking Manhattans. All across the resort, I see workers scrubbing and painting.
“You’re like some kind of magician,” Cruise tells me, his eyes twinkling. “I haven’t seen this kind of energy around the place in years.”
“Most of the staff wanted something to do,” I say. “Now, they may not keep up this level of work ethic, but they seemed happy to pitch in for a few days, and that’s all it will take to make a huge difference.”
“I like your enthusiasm.”
He leans in and kisses the top of my head, earning a round of applause from our audience of elderly ladies.
While Cruise goes to shower I walk through the lobby, complimenting each staff member I see. Everything sparkles.
I want this because it’s my job, re-energizing old hotels is something I could feel really passionate about. Part of me wants to do it because Cruise is so enthusiastic about helping me. I want his father’s approval both for myself and for Cruise. His dad hasn’t treated him fairly, and that needs to change.
The next day, Cruise is out on the pier with a hammer and nails, fixing loose boards. When he’s done with that, he uses a special blend of paint to repair the chipped area around the pool.
“We used to have a hot tub,” he tells me. “Mom did tile work for it, but it faded, and dad took it out. I think a good hotel needs a hot tub, don’t you?”
“Definitely.” I’m not really thinking about what he’s saying, instead I’m surveying the work that’s been done in the last twenty-four hours.
“Come with me,” he says.
“What?”
“You’re tired, your arms exhausted from painting, your body worn out from so much work, right?”
“I suppose.” I’m not ready to agree to whatever he’s saying until I know exactly what he’s getting at.
“With all you’ve done for the hotel, Dad couldn’t possibly object to you using his personal hot tub.”
“With you tagging along?” Now I see where he’s going with this, and a pleasant sense of warmth and expectation comes over me.
A hot tub with Cruise sounds like a perfect ending to a perfect day.
From the staff stairs, he unlocks a side door. “These are the family apartments,” he tells me. “Best view in the house, and all that. Dad stays up here, and Adrian, when he’s in residence.”
It seems tragic that Cruise wasn’t invited back into the hotel but he knows it as well as I do, and I don’t mention it.
“I’ll be back, make yourself comfortable.” Cruise disappears into another room. I sit on the edge of the tub, dipping my toe into the warmth, and wondering if I’m daring enough to strip down to nothing and surprise him.
Before I can decide, Cruise is back.
He’s holding a tray of champagne, which he sets down next to the tub. “Why are you dressed?” he asks as he begins to take off his clothes. I try not to stare. He’s just so perfectly proportioned, every muscle long, lean, and chiseled.
“Because I wasn’t completely sure that we wouldn’t be interrupted? Possible interruptions seem to be the norm around here. ”
“Good point,” he says. He walks to the door, locks it, and returns to me.
“That’s pretty impressive,” I say, and then blush realizing where I’m staring.
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve never had any complaints.” For some reason, this not so subtle reference to his past hurts me. He sees it in my eyes.
We stare at each other.
Cruise settles beside me on the edge of the hot tub. He uncorks the champagne, and pours to glasses, handing me one.
“Drink,” he says. I obey. We sit, sipping. I’m still dressed, but the water is nearly unbearably hot against my feet and calves.
“There have been other girls,” he says finally. “We both know that. But I want you to know that I won’t hurt you. I won’t…be unfaithful.”
I grin at him. “Unfaithful?”
It’s an old fashioned word, but one that makes me incredibly happy.
“That’s right, I won’t be unfaithful. I’m not like that.”
I want to ask if he’s ever had a commitment before, if that’s what he’s doing, making a commitment to me, but the words won’t come, I’m afraid of the answers.
“Now get naked and get in this hot tub with me.”
Smiling, because I can’t keep my face from registering insane levels of my happiness when I’m with Cruise.
Submerging myself beneath the bubbles, I slide across the tub. He’s slick with moisture, and he smells like soap and sand.
I’m finally bold enough to do what I’ve wanted since the first night I saw him, and trace his tattoos, my fingers light against his skin.
I particularly like the way the interlocking pattern moves up his shoulder, to the edge of his shaggy hair. And I love his shaggy hair. I run my fingers through it. He’s not so distracted by superficial details and his hands are on my waist, pulling me into his orbit.
“Wait,” I pull my hair up to the top of my head.
His eyes rove over me, as I reach up to secure my hair my nipples are exposed to the cold air outside the water, and I gasp.