Page 17 of Sand in My Boots

“You serve food here?” Before anyone can answer, Juli waves her hand in the air, her eyes lighting with enthusiasm. “What time does room service stop serving food? That’s probably a safer bet for me right now.” Her face turns toward me. “You’ll walk me home, right, Came?” She giggles, the girlish sound hitting parts of me below the waist. Damn, she’s an adorable drunk.

“Sure thing, Jude. Let me pay our tab.”

“Such the gentleman.”

With a snicker, Natasha hands over the billfold, and I add in a generous tip and scribble my name. “Ready to go?”

Juli looks up at me, her eyes glazing over, the alcohol hitting her system fast and hard. “I think so.”

I hope Natasha isn’t paying us too much attention. Not that we’re doing anything wrong, but I don’t need any word getting back to Preston or any of the other guys. Doesn’t look good for the resort for an owner to be escorting a drunk girl back to her room. Tack on she’s the sister of another owner, and it could be a potential problem.

I suppose leaving her to her own devices would be worse, something I wouldn’t do anyway.

I help Juli down, needing to catch her as she sways to the left. Regardless of how it looks to outsiders, I tuck her into my side. She comes willingly, peering up at me with more than compassion in her eyes. “I always liked you, Cameron. You were my favorite of Preston’s friends.”

Giving her a tight squeeze—and not just for balance—I respond, “Ah, thanks, Jude. I always liked you, too.” I encourage her to move, which is fairly easy to do since she’s pliable and lightweight, even leaden down with the drink. “Which building are you in?”

“Five. Room four fifty-two.” She rattles it off quickly for someone with an impairment and who only arrived today.

LED lights illuminate the sidewalk on the walk to her building. She mumbles some stuff I can’t decipher, but it seems she’s talking to herself because she doesn’t engage in any sort of conversation with me. We ride the elevator up to her floor in silence, and I easily find the door to her room.

I stand her up so she’s leaning against the wall, though the outside air and walk have sobered her up a bit. “Need the key.” She’s stunned for a minute, questioning my motives by staring her rapidly blinking eyes at me. I point to the card reader. “The key. To get inside your room.”

“I don’t . . .” she starts, then a light bulb goes off. She roots around in her small bag across her shoulder, producing the white card with the Whispering Tide logo on it. “Aha. This will gain entry to the locked room.”

Um, okay.

Card in her hand, she doesn’t move, except to unite our eyes. I don’t want to startle her anymore, so I wait her out. It’s not all that late, and my place isn’t that far. Besides, I don’t have to be up too early in the morning to start my day. I’ve got a little time to make sure she’s inside her room and okay for the night before I bid her adieu.

“I think I liked you the best.”

“Thanks. So you’ve said.”

Her head shakes from side to side before I get the comment out. “Not what I meant.”

I wait for her to elaborate further, but she has the key pressed to the pad, the light turns green, and she pushes open the door. I help hold it open so she doesn’t topple into the room. She immediately kicks off her sandals and pads over to the refrigerator in the kitchen. I step inside, letting the door close behind me as my eyes watch her motions. She’s a little sloppy, but not completely drunk. And if she gets a little more food in her, she should be fine tomorrow. I make a mental note not to book the boat trip too early. Give her stomach a chance to settle before getting on the water.

Downing about half a bottle of cold water, she stands in the kitchen behind the half-counter. “I’m going to order food. You want something?”

I hook my thumb over my shoulder. "I’m going to take off. If you’re good.”

Though the room is only lit by a small lamp in the corner, I don’t miss the emotion passing through her eyes. Disappointment.

Quick as it comes, it leaves. She steels herself, her hand on the counter so she can stand a little taller. “Oh. Yeah. Right. Of course. I’m back in my room safe. You’re free to go.”

I’m not sure what propels me closer, but I end up standing on the edge of the room, where the carpet and tile meet, a mere three feet separating us. Her breath comes fast, and my eyes track the up and down of her chest in the V-neck of her dress. When I look back at her face, she nibbles her bottom lip. It’s a warning—I need to get out of here.

“Thanks for dinner and the drink.”

“Welcome, Jude. I’ll see you around?”

“I’m here until Monday. Maybe next time won’t be so confusing?”

“I’m not sure that will be true.”

It’s her turn to take two steps closer to me. Heavy tension swims in the air, the air conditioning doing nothing to keep the heat level cool. My throat suddenly parched, I swallow, not sure what’s happening.

Seems to be the theme of the day.