Lucy
Five days to Santa Monica
I never should have let Miles talk me into this. What the hell was I thinking letting the internet choose our next destination?
Everyone knows the web is full of trolls, bullies, and people who think they’re a lot funnier than they actually are.
Which is why we’re standing in front of a tacky little motel called The Love Shack, a pink-and-white mid-century monstrosity with a red neon heart on the sign.
Did I mention it also looks like the kind of place you can rent by the hour?
“No way.” The sun has nearly set, but the heat remains oppressive, and a bead of sweat forms between my breasts, sliding down my abdomen. “We cannot stay here.”
This is all Miles’s fault. If he hadn’t touched my face and said all those swoony things about my eyes, I would’ve been able to think rationally. And rational Lucy?
She definitely would not have agreed to this.
It’s not too late to make a run for it.
“Don’t even think about it.” Miles snakes an arm around my waist—because apparently he’s a mind reader now—holding me in place. “We have to stay.”
I whirl on him, prepared to plead my case. “Miles.”
“Lucy.” He stares down at me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and my lovesick heart skips a beat.
That smile is infuriating. Sexy. And I want nothing more than to erase it—with my lips.
Which is reason one hundred and ninety-eight on the list of reasons we can’t stay here.
“It’s a freaking love shack.” I point to the neon sign, just in case he missed it.
“Yeah, and it’s amazing.” He’s full-on smirking now. “I didn’t think places like this actually existed in real life.”
I huff out a breath. “All the more reason for us to leave.”
“Come on, Luce.” He releases his grip on my waist, but he must still think I’m a flight risk, because he takes my hand and pulls me toward the rental office where a shit ton of gnats are fluttering around theOpensign. “Your followers are going to eat this up.”
For the love of God, please let them be booked solid.
I quickly scan the parking lot and realize there’s a vehicle parked in front of each of the twelve white doors lining the building.
A sigh of relief escapes, and I quicken my pace.
The sooner we get the “bad news” from the clerk, the sooner I can shoot a sad-face video explaining the motel had no vacancies.
“You’re right,” I say, my feet a thousand times lighter. “I have to follow through or risk losing the trust of my fans. It’s just good business.”
“Exactly. As an influencer, your reputation is everything.”
I push the office door open, and an overhead bell jingles noisily. There’s an older man seated behind the desk. He’s watching TV, but he looks up, flashing a smile when we enter.
“Welcome to The Love Shack!” he says, slowly climbing to his feet. “What can I do for you folks?”
“We wanted to see if you had a room available, but the parking lot looked pretty full, so we totally understand if you’re booked up for the night.”
Miles coughs something that sounds like “you wish.”
“It’s your lucky day.” The clerk chuckles, a full belly laugh, and gestures to the pegboard on the wall behind the desk. There’s a single heart-shaped key ring hanging on the board. “I’ve only got one room left, so I’ll upgrade you to the honeymoon suite for free.”
