“Excuse me. What’s wrong with this shape?” I give him a three-sixty spin. “I’ll have you know that this shape is courtesy of Cardio Dance Fit.”
“Okay,” Leo says, a smile stretching across his face. “What I had in mind was a bit top-heavier, if you know what I mean.”
“You want me to lift weights?” I ask. “With these spaghetti arms?” I flap them for emphasis.
“Didn’t you just say teams are fifty-fifty?” I both hate and love that he’s using my words against me. “Those giant hams aren’t going to heave themselves.”
“Fine.” I crack a crooked, playful smile. “Let’s get out of here.” We start toward the exit so we can put the cart away when I notice the errant cucumber is still rolling around in there. “We should probably put that back.”
“Oh, no,” Leo says. “I’m buying that.”
“Why?”
He quirks a brow at me. “I think it might just come in handy at some point...”
The furious heat rises to my cheeks once again as he saunters in front giving me a full view of his perky ass in those dress slacks on the way to the self-checkout kiosk.
Ten
When we pull back up to the hotel, I invite Leo up to my room to no avail.
“Sorry,” he says, playing it cool in the driver’s seat, one hand slung over the wheel. “My mom is expecting me for dinner, and since I’m not going to tell her about the lost job just yet, I don’t need her grilling me on why I’m late.”
“I understand,” I say, moderately disappointed, but we go our separate ways with plans to meet early tomorrow morning for what Leo calls “a special surprise.”
Here’s hoping that surprise involves no pants.
I get stopped crossing the lobby while holding a single, bagged cucumber. I probably look like a freak. A very red, very embarrassed freak.
The dark-skinned woman behind the counter wearing blue eyeshadow and a name tag that reads Annabelle, waves me over to the desk. “Are you Mr. James?”
“That’s me. Yes.” I surreptitiously try to hide the cucumber behind my back, which seems to only draw more attention to it.
Annabelle hits me with a suspicious look before proceeding. “This came for you while you were out.” After rummaging around in a nearby room, she wheels my blue suitcase out from behind the desk; the sparkly luggage tag catches the light. A relieved breath saws out of me.
“Oh, my God. Wow. Thank you. I had almost figured it was gone forever.” Though, in truth, Leo had nearly made me forget all about it.
“Well,” Annabelle says, returning to her post. “Seems like it’s your lucky day.”
I think about Leo again. About watchingMadcap Markettogether and our grocery store outing. Out of all the faux concierges that could’ve been here the day I arrived from New York, it seems fated that it was Leo. Perhaps I am coming into some luck after all. I just needed to leave my comfort zone and my zip code to do it.
“Thanks again,” I say to Annabelle as I start toward the elevators.
“Oh, and Mr. James.” I turn back to catch her sporting a new, unnervingly professional expression. “If you could keep the Taylor Swift to a dull roar this evening, the guests and I would greatly appreciate it.”
My mood has lifted to insurmountable heights, so even this light dig can’t drag me down. “You got it.” I flash her a kind smile before going up to my room.
The room has been cleaned since I left—the carpet vacuumed, the bed made, and Leo’s and my trash disposed of. Leo’s mountain of unopened snacks is still piled high on the bedside table next to where he slept last night. So much has happened in the past forty-eight hours that my head should be spinning. Instead, my heart is sort of fluttering like it’s grown wings and become a creature inside my rib cage that’s ready to break free.
I hoist the suitcase onto the lopsided stand and sort through the pockets. Everything seems to be where I left it. Nothing lost or stolen. Since Leo insinuated we’d have an extra early morning, I break out the rest of my athleisure pieces—Fab Fitness Flair finally coming in clutch forsomething—and mix and match to find the right outfit.
For the next hour or so, it’s like high school all over again, getting ready for a homecoming dance or a big presentation, anticipation fizzling as I make my decision. Which shirt is going to make my chest look broad, and which pair of pants is going to make my ass look the best? At that thought, I pull my collection of fun underwear out of a pocket in the front of the bag. I lay out a collection of jockstraps and thongs I packed with the intentions of being a little slutty while visiting Sin City.
Oh, wait. That’s Vegas.
No matter. Sin isn’t city specific, and I plan to absolutely debauch Leo.
For my first option, I pull on a lime-green jockstrap, a super thin pair of running tights, and a heather-gray, racerback tank top. Even in the stark bathroom light, I check out my reflection and find that I’m feeling myself. Maybe it’s the change of setting. Maybe it’s my new fake boyfriend. Either way, I look good and feel even better.
