“Hands off, dirtball, before your dick escapes your pants again,” Dixie finishes off the trio of insults.
Andpoof! That incredible moment is gone. We step apart, and he turns to scowl at all of them. I remember that face too. He gave it to them a lot growing up. It’s oddly comforting that that hasn’t changed. “Can the sorority take it down a notch? Please. Zoey doesn’t need to know you’re all still a bunch of brats.”
He gets three perfectly synchronized eye rolls with that. Winnie excuses herself to use the restroom, Sadie joins her and Dixie sits down and pulls out her phone, presumably to check her email or something. He turns back to me, and I find myself holding my breath. He gives me that insanely attractive smile again. “I was hoping to catch you guys mid-brunch so I could join, but I guess you’re all done.”
I nod.
“Do you have plans this afternoon?”
I do. I promised myself I would go to Adam’s house—my house—and have that talk we need to have about the lawyers, the divorce and everything else. But the idea of spending the afternoon with Jude is way more appealing. “I do, but they’re not set in stone.”
He likes that answer. “Spend the afternoon with me.”
“Doing what?”
He grins wider.
That’s all he does, and it’s the most obscenely suggestive thing that has ever happened to me in my life. And I love it.
“Mrs. Penner?”
I smile back at Jude, because it seems like the perfect response to what feels like an unasked invitation to spend the afternoon naked under him. Is that really what he’s offering? The Jude I knew at eighteen offered it but not nearly as confidently. And it went horribly awry, to say the least. But I find myself very open, for the first time in my life, to second chances.
There’s a deep rumble of a man clearing his throat and then, “Mrs. Penner?”
Oh, right. That’s me. I blink and step, almost more like stumble, back from Jude. The concierge from the hotel is standing just behind Dixie. His expression is serene, calm, but I know something is off if he’s sought me out. “Yes?”
Once I acknowledge the name Jude doesn’t know, and more importantly the Mrs. part, Jude takes a step back, out of shock, I’m guessing. Great. Now he thinks I’m married. Wait, I am married. Technically.
“I was hoping you’d have a minute to chat with me, over at the desk. It’s about your room,” the concierge says casually. I try not to frown as I nod. Wow, this is bad timing. I reach for my purse on the back of the chair I vacated and take out my wallet to settle my part of our brunch bill.
“I’ll grab your brunch, ladies,” Jude offers, and before I can argue, because after all he didn’t even eat with us, Dixie is shoving the little leather folder with our bill at his wide, chiseled chest as Sadie and Winnie return to the table. I guess his sisters don’t mind a free meal.
I turn and start hugging each sister. “I’ll say good-bye now, since I don’t know how long I’ll be. But it was so great seeing you all, and we should do this again next time you’re all in town.”
“Yes!” Winnie replies as she squeezes me. Sadie nods emphatically as she hugs me.
Dixie squeezes me hardest of all and suggests, “Let’s do drinks sometime soon, since I’m always in town.”
“Sure.” I nod. Jude leans in next and wraps me in his arms again. This time, though, the hug feels less intimate, cooler. Against the shell of my ear he says, “Congratulations on your marriage. He’s a lucky guy.”
“You should be congratulating me on my pending divorce,” I blurt back softly, and I’m a little stunned I said that. But I don’t even feel the least bit reserved in front of him. It’s odd, because it took about a half hour before I felt completely at ease and able to be myself with his sisters, but with Jude, from the minute he walked up to our table I’ve beenone hundred percent me. He doesn’t seem shocked by my announcement. In fact there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips that says he might actually be relieved by the news.
I give them all a good-bye wave and follow the concierge out of the restaurant. The hotel lobby is down one level, so we ride the elevator together in awkward silence. I wonder if they need to have me move rooms. I keep extending my stay, so they’ve moved me a few times to make space for existing reservations.
“Is my room already booked?” I ask him as the elevator doors slide open and we cross the pristine marble lobby. “Because I don’t mind moving rooms again. I know I haven’t officially extended my stay, but I will probably be here another two weeks.”
“We’ll gladly extend your stay, Mrs. Penner,” he says easily, and I try not to frown at that damn name. I don’t want to correct the staff here, because all my credit cards are still in my married name, and I don’t want to confuse anyone. “We’ll just need a valid credit card, for the current charges and the future ones.”
“You have my credit card on file.”
He’s moved around the massive oak check-in counter now and bows his head to look at his screen. When he looks up, his voice is still calm and casual, but his eyes are sympathetic. “You left us your MasterCard on file; however, when we ran the charges for the week through, it was declined.”
He lets his voice drop low, to a whisper, when he says that last word. Because it’s a very dirty word at a five-star hotel. I feel like I’m in some alternate universe. Was my card number stolen? Did the company freeze it for my safety and forget to tell me? Adam and I agreed that I would charge my hotel costs until the divorce was finalized. I should be in the damn house and I’m only not because he uses the address for business, so it was easier like this, for now.
“There must be some mistake,” I stammer, and the look on his face says that he’s heard that before.
“Let me just call the credit card company,” I say, and he nods. I dig my phone out of my bag and wander to the corner of the lobby.
