“Next week.” Charlie waited for her to say,Don’t go, I’ll miss you too much. But Jean was silent, turning her head so her other cheek was pillowed against his midsection.
“I’d rather stay here with you,” he told her, in case there was any doubt.
She grumbled something against his stomach. It felt like she was blowing a raspberry, but Charlie could still make out the words, “For now.”
He didn’t think arguing with Jean was the best way to change her mind. He would have to show her how he felt with his actions. “Do you want to stay tonight? I could rub your feet.”
“Nice try, perv.” She pinched his thigh. “You just want to cop a feel.”
“You do have very pretty feet.”
“I could be persuaded to stay. If you make it worth my while, King Cobra.”
“Jean.” He tried to sound stern, but it was hard to focus when her hand was sliding down his hip, and then lower still. “Have you been reading about snakes just so you can tease me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
She was absolutely right. Charlie wanted a permanent front-row seat for the three-ring circus that was Jean’s mind. But he didn’t want to spook her, so for now he’d do it Jean’s way, telling her with his body what he couldn’t put into words.
Concierge Desk Report, Second Shift (Jean H.; Pauline P.):
Incident: Ice machine on third floor reportedly making “loud clunking sound.”
Resolution:Explained concept of “ice machine” to guest.Referred to maintenance.
Incident: Emergency laundry request from the King Conch suite.
Resolution: Tide pen once again saves the day.
Incident: Two guests caught skinny-dipping in infinity pool.
Resolution: Staff may need professional counseling to unsee dangly old man bits.
No other incidents of any kind. Especially at the cottages.
Chapter 7
Up to now, Jean had made a point of leaving before sunrise, so spending the night felt like a milestone. Not necessarily the positive kind, considering how badly she’d jacked up her plan to let this situationship unspool on its own. Slow chaos, like one of her chef friend’s sourdough starters.
With the same potential for mess.
She’d never hooked up with a hotel guest before, much less played slumber party at his cottage. But Charlie was exceptional in more ways than one.
At some point in the wee hours, she’d woken up chilled by the powerful resort AC, not having packed any pajamas. Charlie soothed her like she was a nervous pony, clicking his tongue and making little shushing sounds. It was probably a tactic he’d picked up in his farm-boy youth. The next thing she knew, he’d taken off his T-shirt and slipped the warm cotton over her head, smoothing it down her body.
“Finally,” she grumbled, throwing herself back at the pillow.
Jean slept blissfully after that, even though it usually took her days to adjust to a strange bed in an unfamiliar room. It was the buzzing of Charlie’s phone that finally woke her.
“Charlie,” she groaned without opening her eyes. When that didn’t get a response, she flung an arm toward his side of the bed, surprised to find it empty. Rolling over, she reached for his phone, intending to bury it under a pillow (or fling it across the room), when the bathroom door opened, and Charlie stepped out, buck naked.
His smile slipped when he saw her hand on his phone. “Did you—” he started to say, hurrying across the room.
“Make it stop,” she ordered, pulling the sheet over her head.
“Sorry.”
When he didn’t immediately join her in bed, she peeked out to see him frowning at the screen.
