I should probably be a little neater when opening my luggage so I’m not creating another mess. Sliding the closet door open to look for a luggage stand, I find something even better—a bathrobe.
After wrapping the cozy chenille around my body, I fall backward into the cushion of blankets and pillows covering my bed. Oh, I’m going to sleep well tonight. I could close my eyes right now and not wake up until five tomorrow morning, but then I’d be missing out on a steak dinner.
My stomach growls, and I laugh at the day I’ve had. From the coffee dream to my views in the flight deck to getting asked out by some big-shot sports guy. I wonder what Wyatt will think of that.
I roll over to grab my phone from the nightstand and dial. Once again, my call goes to voicemail. I glance at my watch.
Of course. It may feel late to me, but my boyfriend is still at the office on a normal workday. I shoot him a flirty text about how I chose him over the 49ers quarterback, then lie there for a few minutes longer without moving before forcing myself to pull on joggers and a hoodie.
Other guests are sure to be dressed nicer at such a resort, but this is all I have. Even if I’d brought a skirt or slacks, I’d still wear my joggers. Based on my exhaustion, I might as well have just finished a marathon.
I follow signs to the elevators and push the Down button, then my gaze catches on the view outside the window. I’m mesmerized, but not by the aquamarine pool below or the blue-gray ocean in the distance. Rather, my attention is drawn to the grassy cliff between them, where a group of women in bright spandex spin and shimmy.
Nobody told me there were Zumba classes available to guests. My dipping energy levels soar once again, like a plane that missed its landing and must circle around.
The sun will set soon. Will the patio lights come on so the class can keep dancing in the dark? Would I have time to join them for a few songs before dinner?
It takes watching their routine for a few more seconds to catch the pattern. I glance around to make sure I’m alone before stepping into the cha-cha and rolling my hips. Slide right, arm circle, pivot. The sequence repeats, and I add my own little flair.
I don’t have much experience with salsa, but it offers the freedom of dance without locking up my big toe. If only I could hear the beat. Let it move me.
Cha-cha, slide left, arm circle, pivot.
The door dings behind me, announcing the elevator’s arrival. I chacha, slide right, arm circle, and pivot to enter the waiting lift.
Nathan leans against the far wall, ankles crossed, hands in pockets, head tilted in amusement.
I freeze, my arms in the position of a bullfighter.
“Olé.” He plays along.
I drop my arms and laugh. I’m used to performing in front of people, so I shouldn’t be embarrassed. Not to mention, this isn’t the first time Nathan has seen me in an awkward position. Though my cheeks burn, my only regret is that I didn’t get to dance longer.
I join him, and the doors slide closed. I hadn’t considered the fact that with Nathan’s room one floor above mine, we had a good chance of running into each other on the way to dinner.
I shrug off my humiliation. “There’s a Zumba class outside. Made me want to dance.”
“Sure you don’t just like making grand entrances?”
I picture myself leaping into a packed elevator for a curtain call. The crowd goes wild. I take an imaginary bow. “Since I’m not performing on a stage anymore, I should make that my thing.”
“You do have impeccable timing.”
I couldn’t have timed the dance routine to match the opening of the elevator doors if I’d tried. Not that I would have wanted to. “Or the absolute worst timing.”
Said doors release us into a fancy lobby with arched windows facing the sea. There’s nothingnotfancy about this place. Even their glass dispenser of drinking water is infused with flowers and fruit.
We cross a walkway toward a restaurant entrance. The stucco building, topped with a traditional red tile roof, is surrounded by patio tables interspersed with umbrellas to protect from the sun’s rays during the day and space heaters to keep patrons warm at night. Currently the air temperature has settled into a moment of perfection between the two.
I squint toward the glimmering ocean and point out dancing silhouettes on the grassy cliff. “See? They’re real.”
Without his aviator glasses, Nathan has to hold up a hand to shade his eyes. “So they are.” He drops his hand to open the carved wooden restaurant door, releasing the scent of sizzling beef, yeasty bread, and smoky fish. I might order the fish, since it can’t get any fresher than straight from the ocean right outside.
My stomach growls louder than it did on the plane. It would seem Angel’s belly isn’t the only one with issues.
Nathan faces me, and his lips do their little quirk that tells me he’s holding back a smile. I’m not sure if he always finds life this entertaining or if I’m particularly hilarious to him. “I’d ask whether you want to dance some more if I didn’t hear your stomach rumble just now.”
Despite my obvious hunger, my attention returns to the group of women, now chatting, chugging water, and toweling off. They might be between songs or might be done for the night. Either way, I’m not part of their group.
