“You'll have to come find out, but I have a sparkly one and another that's really buttery on the skin.” He pumps his eyebrows. “I promise I won't even check you out whilst I wash your hair.”
For once I don't over think this and just lean into what my baser needs are screaming at me. I need comfort, I want to relax and if a criminally gorgeous rockstar wants to keep me from falling asleep in the bath, who am I to deny him the honour? Plus he said the magic words.Bath bombs.
“Ok, consider me persuaded.”
“Perfect. Right, pretty girl, I'm going to take you from Phin if that's okay and I'll carry you.” Slowly I unwrap myself from around him, missing the heat as a tremor licks my spine again. He makes space for Wren to slide one arm under me, the other on my back and he lifts me like I'm feather light.
“I'm going to go check in with Merle and Bran, but if you need anything, I’ll come back up soon with tea and snacks.” Phin squeezes my hand before disappearing down the stairs case. Before descending, he gives me that small smile again, slightly sad, like he’s confused.
Settling me into a bridal position, Wren is so careful to walk around the shattered glass in his socks.
I'm really doing this; spending the night with the man I’m so indescribably drawn to, like the fifteen years we orbited each other was fate's way of setting things in motion, for the day we finally collided. The hotel falls away, the guests, my impending doom, puzzling out motives and the secrets.
All I see is him.
Chapter eighteen
Robin
DANCINGwisps of warm steam rise from the clawfoot tub, the water a deep, sparkling pink colour and he even added bubbles for me. It didn't surprise me that when Wren tempted me with bath bombs, he failed to mention he'd brought a shoebox worth of them, soaps and bath melts. Had he planned to spend the entire weekend in his hotel bathroom? I don't blame him; the clawfoot stood away from the walls and added elegance to a teal-tiled bathroom with star patterned marble flooring. Themes of nature and spring continue in here, with vines wrapping around the legs, leaves etched into the cabinet's wood and the mirror embossed with dancing foxes. There's even a little squirrel figure perched on the shelves. All the fixtures are golden and white fluffy towels are in abundance. Maggie's kept a tight ship and I know paying guests are going to love their stay. We’d thrifted and upcycled as much furniture as we could, but maybe that was Merle's final attempt to save some money. I was tilting the edge of a hard sword; I should trust my friend. So why didn't I fully?
A light knock announces Wren's return and without waiting for my reply, he lets himself back into the bathroom. His curls are unruly like he's racked his fingers through them and he’s also changed into sleep shorts, but that's all he wears. He’s shirtless.
Dear lord, I think I’ve died from visual stimulation.
Is this heaven?
His bare chest is heavily tattooed and so toned, the groves of abs shadowed by the ink with a delicious v-line running down below his waistband. I want to scowl at how perfectly sculpted he is, of course with muscles like they're here to personally tease me into an early grave. Before I resort to drooling, I study the collection of tattoos all over his body. A detailed bat with stars and clouds takes center in his chest, with flowers and obscure artwork running over his shoulders and arms. I can see swallows, a Japanese style mask, as well as a skull with a snake poking through its mouth. The body appears to go into his skin and come out at his collar bone–wrapping around his neck.
He gives me a devilish grin and stalks forward, carrying both shampoo and conditioner that look expensive. I break out in cold sweats whenever I spend over five pounds on either, but those are for sure exclusive salon quality.
“Here's the deal, little lady. You’re going to close your eyes and relax whilst I wash your hair. I am just a human man, but I will try not to ogle your gorgeous breasts which aren't saying hello to me right now.”
My head whips down and I look over the sea of bubbles coating my skin and covering my chest. “They are not!” I choke on my laugh as I look back up to find his face inches from my own.
“Got ya.” He bops my nose, turning my cheeks the colour of ripe cherries. “I mean it though. Close your eyes and relax. Switch that pretty brain off.”
He strokes my cheek until it's merely a blush, tucking a lock behind my ear that has fallen between us. I feel like I'm not breathing as both our eyes fall down to look at one another's lips, but just as I think he's going to kiss me, he moves away to settle behind where my head leans against the porcelain. Long fingers comb through my hair and my lashes flutter shut, loving his soft, caring touch. I can sense him leaning over me to retrieve the showerhead, placing it low to the water as he turns it on, keeping it away from my legs as he tests the steady stream until it's the perfect temperature.
Even submerged in water and with plenty of bubbles, being bare in front of him like this feels like the most radical thing I’ve ever done.
“Here we go, pretty girl.” He seems to like calling me that, and I definitely don't mind it. I've never cared for pet names, other than from my friends—mainly Phin, but I'm so close to drifting into a blissful state I can't recall any past nicknames. No one's made me feel the way this man does while massaging shampoo that smells like violets into my scalp. The entire room smells like a perfumery—notes of roses and something sweet from the bath bomb, mixed with the floral shampoo, and under it all is his sandalwood and mint cologne. It’s so comforting.
“Would you say you’re settled in York?” Wren’s soft voice pulls me from my empty mind space, the shower head working through my hair to rinse the shampoo. I note apprehension that he tries to mask. Whatever my answer, it means something to him.
“York is so busy and fast-paced; I love it, but I couldn't imagine my entire life being city living. I’m connected with the great memories I have there. Something tells me it’s not my final stop. I just have this feeling sometimes that there will be someplace else.” I admit honestly, my home brings a wide smile to my lips, but I’ve been distracting myself from the feeling thatit's an era almost over. I have no next destination in mind, but with Phoenix moving into the hotel permanently and Merle, I guess I could do my thing from anywhere. I could be writing the next Featherton abroad or from a cosy cottage in Scotland.
“What about London?”
I shake my head. “Not in the cards. I know there are some great locations outside of the city, but the moment I packed my car and left with Phin for uni, I knew I wasn't coming back.” Deep down, I think this was half of the problem with my past relationship. There was no compromise from my side and Corbin refused to commute, in fact he'd hated the North. Him buying Nightingale was so extreme, I think it’s why I believed he wanted a fresh start.
“That’s fine, I bet there are some cool places in Yorkshire. I’m sure I can find something and then we can spend more time together.” I feel his fingers temporarily pause on my scalp, before he resumes and I feel him squeezing conditioner into my long, wet hair. “I really want to get to know you more, Roo. If you want that too.”
The way he lays his wants so openly squeezes my heart and I place my hands over my stomach. Not like I can contain the pesky butterflies trying to burst from me. The least I can do is be honest with him too.
“I want that too.” It’s everything I want and more. I want Wren, beyond physically and that really fucking scares me. As he works each strand of my hair through his fingers to the ends where it already starts to softly curl, I clear my throat and sit a little straighter. “You’re not going to buy a house up here just because of me, are you?” I jest, but I think he really would. The Larks are one of the current biggest British rock bands, I'm not naive to presume he's not stressed for money. Aside from that, Wren has featured in magazines like fucking Vogue. He has other projects according to Phoenix and my best friend has evenforced him to accept paid online campaigns. I don’t know how I haven't seen it before, but Phin has constantly told me about his life. His accomplishments. I can't imagine living so publicly the way Wren has been, but I also think I've gotten a lot of things wrong about him too.
“I won't buy somewhere—I mean, unless it’s a great investment. But like, renting somewhere shouldn’t be a problem. We’re on a little tour in Autumn, but then I’ll be free till next Spring.” He says nonchalantly, like the idea of potentially buying a property just to be closer to me, to make this work, is no big deal.
