B
ythetimeJonand Basher—who is a surprisingly good cook—serve us chicken fajitas for dinner, the entire hotel knows I walked out of the date.
It’s even a topic of conversation as we sit down for the meal.
A meal I have every intention of missing, but Rand won’t let me.
“You need your boys around you,” he says, forcibly pulling me out of our room.
“No offense, but these aren’t my boys.”
“But they could be. At least some of them could be. Like me. I’m your boy, and I’m not letting you sit and stew in here alone.”
“That sounds weird.”
“Plus, whatever Jon makes tastes amazing and I’m hungry and you need to eat to sop up the alcohol, so let’s go eat.”
Yes, the alcohol. Turns out the hotel has a very nice selection of bourbon, which I discovered after Odin dropped me off. “Ok, but I’m taking my bottle.”
Ashton takes it out of my hand as soon I get to the kitchen. “What do you have here?” He studies the label. “Not bad. Where do I find glasses?”
Rand produces three because I’ve been swigging straight from the bottle.
I’m more interested in the bourbon, but the smell of food finally tempts me to accept a plate. I sit quietly with a small group in the lobby, the food laid out on the reception counter.
The moon rises over the water and the sound of the waves crashing makes good background noise.
It makes me think of Battle Harbour.
I wonder what Abigail is doing. I wonder if she’ll ever stop hating me.
She might not hate me, but I’m definitely not her favourite person.
I wonder what Lyra is doing.
I regretted leaving as soon as Odin dropped me off at the hotel, if only to be able to see how she acted with the other men. If they all went along the same lines as Liam, that would be torture.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, since I know the format of the show. There is flirting and kissing, men pulling Lyra aside, and other men breaking in to steal her away. These men are trying to win her heart and they’re pulling out all the stops.
Realistically, using physical contact is a great way to push attraction into something more. If I kissed Lyra…
If I kissed Lyra when I wanted to, no one else would have stood a chance.
I stay caught up in my thoughts, not joining the discussion about the date until Phillippe turns to me.
“Why did you leave?” His Quebecois accent is stronger after he’s been drinking and it seems those in the brewery had a lot of opportunity to sample the beer while they waited their turn.
Everyone had time with Lyra.
I guess that’s only fair, but I don’t feel like being fair right now.
A quick glance around shows that Phillippe’s question grabbed everyone’s attention. I shrug.
“I don’t know how you think you’re going to get her to fall in love with you if you leave like that,” he says under his breath.
“You don’t think she’s already in love with him?” Liam asks and the table falls silent.
The question is like sticking my finger into a socket. It jars and it jolts and there’s a rush of hope that makes me feel dizzy.
