Font Size:

Not even one of mine.

Chapter 8

Ethan

The elevator glides up so smoothly I can’t feel the floor moving. That alone makes me uneasy. Give me a snowmobile on black ice. Give me a shaky suspension bridge. Give me a cliff edge in a windstorm. But this quiet, floating luxury box? No thank you.

I stand beside Harper, trying to pretend I belong here, even though everything from my boots to my blood pressure says otherwise.

She smells like something exotic, but soft. No, not thinking about that … not right now. The doors open onto the top floor, and the hallway is all golden lighting, soft carpet, polished wood. My cabin could fit inside this hallway.

“This way,” I say, even though she already knows where we’re going. I just need to talk before I spontaneously combust.

We stop in front of the Honeymoon Suite door. Even the keycard slot looks expensive. Harper fidgets with her purse strap. “Um … do you want to … go in first? Or should I?”

Her cheeks are pink. Mine probably are too.

“Go ahead.” My voice comes out rough.Why did I do that?

She swipes the key and pushes the door open. The room hits me like a punch in the jaw. It’s definitely for honeymooners with the fireplace glowing. There’s a king-sized bed covered in rose petals. Champagne chilling on a tray. Candles everywhere like some sort of mating ritual.

I physically take a step back.

“This is …” Harper breathes, eyes wide.

“A lot,” I finish. Too much. Way too much.

I set our suitcases near the bed and eye a plush chair that probably costs more than my truck.

Harper turns to me. “So … what do we do now?”

I blink. “What do we do?”

Her face goes crimson. “I didn’t meanthat.I meant, like … do we start unpacking? Do we talk? Do we look at the itinerary? Should we — I don’t know — turn on the TV?”

“I don’t watch TV,” I say bluntly.

She blinks. “You don’t?”

“Cable is expensive,” I say. “Internet too. Streaming? Forget it. A subscription to something called ‘PeriPlus’ tried to charge me twelve dollars a month for videos of a British man cooking eggs. I canceled immediately.”

Harper presses her lips together hard. Damn, she’s trying not to laugh.

“And Wi-Fi?” I continue, because now I’m committed. Absolute scam. The whole thing’s a racket. You pay monthly and then they throttle your speeds unless you buy an upgrade, and then they charge you fees for equipment you didn’t even ask for.”

A snort escapes her. A small one, but it’s there. She covers her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s more than fine. I would willingly rant about ten more unnecessary bills if it means she makes that sound again.

She takes a breath. “Okay. How about unpacking?”

“Sure,” I say. “Unpacking is … good.” Except it’s not. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

She kneels beside her suitcase and unzips it. The lid opens — And everything bursts out. Clothes spill onto the plush rug.

Sweaters. Leggings. A silky something. And two delicate lace panties that land directly at my feet.