Page 28 of From Wink to Kink

The clerk holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm so sorry. But look on the bright side! The bungalows are quite spacious, and they have a lovely view of the ocean."

I turn to Chuck, my eyes narrowing. "This is all your fault."

He gapes at me. "My fault? How is this my fault?"

"If you hadn't asked Tyler about my retreat?—"

“If you had double-checked your dates?—"

"If you weren't such a nosy, overgrown?—"

"Excuse me," the clerk interrupts. We turn to look at him, and I'm surprised to see a hint of steel in his eyes. Guess this is not the first time he’s had to mediate. "Perhaps it would be best if you both took some time to... cool off. Why don't you go to your bungalow, unpack, and then join the welcome circle later? I'm sure things will seem better after you've had a chance to catch your breath. Here…"

He pauses and reaches under his desk.

And returns with two bottles of water.

“Please,” he says, handing one to each of us. “Oh me.” He beams.

Chuck accepts his with a smile, as if the gesture makes everything okay.

I, on the other hand, want to argue, to demand he find me another room, to insist that there's no way I'm sharing a bungalow with Chuck Newcomb for a night, never mind an entire week. But the clerk's expression tells me it would be futile. Instead I respond with tears, like the idiot I am.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

“I… I just wanted a break. A break from life. And I getthis,” I wail gesturing at both men. “And I wasn’t in a van on the way here. It was a bus. With live chickens and an old man who wanted to marry me.”

While it all seemed quaint at the time, I’m getting more and more upset. About everything.

The clerk frowns at me. “Bus? What do you mean bus? We have a very nice resort van to pick up our guests.” Then he taps his temple as if a light just came on. “Señorita, you did not take the local bus, did you? The yellow one?”

I nod through more tears.

“Señorita, that was not the resort van,” he starts to explain.

“I KNOW THAT NOW,” I bellow.

Chuck takes my elbow. “Ruby, look, you’re tired, I’m tired, let’s just go relax for a bit and figure this out.”

"Fine," I say, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "But this… this isn't over."

Chuck nods. "For once, Brooks, we're on the same page."

He reaches for my wheelie suitcase, ever the gentleman, but I smack his hand away. I managed to get all the way to Pura Vida without any help from him. Does he think I can’t get back to the room on my own?

I storm off, speed walking to get away from him, but he keeps up. The heat is even more oppressive now, and a headache builds behind my eyes. God, I hope I packed aspirin.

As we walk, I can't help but sneak glances at Chuck. He looks about as thrilled as I feel, his jaw set in a hard line. It's a far cry from his usual cocky grin, and for a moment, I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

We reach the bungalow, where Chuck holds the door open. I raise an eyebrow at this unexpected display of chivalry.

“What?" he says defensively. "I'm not a complete Neanderthal."

I roll my eyes but mumble a ‘thanks’ as I pass him. Inside, the bungalow seems smaller than I remember. The bed, which had looked so inviting earlier, looms like a challenge.

"So," Chuck says, breaking the awkward silence. "How do you want to do this?"

I take a deep breath, trying to approach this rationally. "Well, let's lay down some ground rules. First, you take the couch."

---