Page 2 of Flint

“There’s my girl. Go do whatever it is kids on dates do now.” She waves me off and takes the remote. She aims at the combination TV and VCR player we found at a thrift store a few months ago. The tape jumps, but her favorite action hero shows up on screen.

“Take me away, Sylvester,” she murmurs before sipping her tea.

I chuckle and shake my head as I leave the house, pausing to lock up behind me. Then all I have to do is climb into my aging Toyota, lay hands on the dashboard, and say a silent prayer that Reba the Reliable stays reliable. Reba purrs to life, and I let out a breath. It does seem like everything is falling perfectly into place for my little adventure.

“Wow,” I breathe the word out softly as I step into the lobby of The Far Out Lounge. It’s the kind of place I’d expect to see on a sitcom about the sixties. My heels sink into the plush orange carpet as I survey the lime green couches dotting the space. On the walls are retro advertisements for office supplies, far-flung destinations, and even one for a shaving product.

“Hello, ma’am. How may I assist you today?” A young boy who can’t be older than sixteen asks me. He’s dressed in a bright orange suit that he confidently carries off. Apparently, management believes this should feel like the true experience.

I hurry forward and get through the check-in process. Things are tight now, but I booked this birthday stay almost a year ago, and it’s non-refundable at this point. That’s another reason that Grandma kept encouraging me to go. She pointed out that there was no sense in losing money.

I decline the clerk’s offer to carry my bag to my room. I sling it over my shoulder and accept my key. It’s an actual metal key, not a cheap plastic key card.

When I step to the side of the motel and see the pool complete with fake palm trees dotting the landscape, I can’t help smiling. This is perfect.

Even though it’s late, I’ll still put on my cute swimsuit and lay out by the pool. It’s not about the setting sun. It’s about soaking in the vibes.

The clerk told me when I was checking in that the place is mostly deserted this week. Something about a small group that canceled at the last minute. Lucky me.

My room is one of only nine rooms on the property. It’s painted a shade of yellow green that reminds me of a tennis ball. Somehow, the bedspread matches the walls. But when I plop down on the bed and give a little bounce, it’s obvious the mattress is in good condition.

Across from the bed is a couch and armchair, both in a bold print that reminds me of something I’d see on The Jetsons. The kitchenette area contains a round metal table with two orange chairs and a coffee maker that’s the only modern feature in the room.

I let out a happy sigh. This was the perfect way to spend my birthday weekend without being far from home if the boys need me. I feel like I’m a million miles away, even if I’m not.

I check the time on the starburst clock above the couch and see I still have a little over an hour before I’m supposed to meet my cowboy at a bar down the street. I change into my vintage red swimsuit and apply lipstick stain to match. Then I grab my book and saunter out to the pool lounger that’s a few feet from my room.

“Best vacation ever,” I tell myself as I settle onto the lime green lounger that creaks under me. I relax and imagine how amazing it’s going to feel tomorrow when the sun is full and bright. I swipe on my reader, fully intending to enjoy a few pages of the latest spicy romance.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I look up at the sound of a gruff voice that doesn’t belong to the motel clerk. A man in denim blue jeans and a faded purple flannel button-up is staring down at me. He pulls off his Stetson to reveal stunning blue eyes. They’re almost violet and surrounded by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man. He could go into modeling with looks like those. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” I repeat the word, looking around. Perhaps he’s mistaken me as part of the group that canceled at the last minute.

“Yeah, see, Heaven is that way,” he points up, his beard moving as he smirks. “Which is clearly where you fell from.”

I chuckle, surprised by the flirting. He looks young, early twenties if I had to guess. I’m nearly thirty, and I know that the last five years of exhaustion already show on my face. “Has that bit ever worked on a girl?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me an “aww shucks” look. “First and only time using it.”

“Well, here’s a bit of honest feedback, consider working on it some more,” I answer, softening the words with a small grin. I’d forgotten how good it feels to have a man find me attractive.

He strokes that beard, and I want to know what it feels like between my thighs. “Maybe we could do that over dinner.”

“I have a date tonight,” I tell him, sort of regretting that. What would it be like to have a wild night with this handsome, bearded stranger?

“So, ditch him.”

“I don’t like bossy men,” I say even as my heart flutters. My mind is spinning with the possibilities. I don’t even know this man, but I’m on vacation. Does it matter if I don’t know him? It’s just a bit of fun.

“Fine by me. You can be the boss then.”

“Then leave me alone.”

“Hmm, minor problem, boss. I’ve never been good at taking orders.”

My phone dings, a reminder I set so I’d have time to get ready for my date. If he tells me to cancel it again, I just might. “I have to go.”

“Okay, but when you come back tonight, I’m going to knock on your door.”