Page 29 of From Wink to Kink

Chuck's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me? Have you seen me? I'm 6'4". I won't fit on that couch."

I cross my arms. "Well, I'm not sharing the bed with you."

"We could alternate," he suggests. "You take the bed one night, I take it the next."

I consider this for a moment. It's not ideal, but it's probably the fairest solution. "Fine," I concede. "But I get it first."

Chuck grins, and for a second, I'm reminded of why half the women in San Francisco swoon over him. "Deal. Now, about the bathroom situation..."

We spend the next half hour hammering out a detailed schedule for bathroom usage, shelf space allocation, and general cohabitation rules. By the end of it, I feel like I've negotiated a peace treaty between warring nations.

"Okay," I say, looking at the elaborate chart we've created. "I think this could work. As long as we both stick to the schedule and respect each other's space, we might actually survive this week."

Chuck nods, looking as exhausted as I feel.

I shrug. "Agreed. And hey, look on the bright side. We can hang out and relax, I suppose."

Chuck freezes. "Ruby," he says slowly. "I think we might have a bigger problem."

"What do you mean?"

He takes a deep breath. "I think this might actually be acouples retreat. Like, a kinky-sexy kind of retreat.”

A lump builds in my throat and more tears threaten. I can’t remember such a fucked-up situation, ever.

Chuck's eyes widen at my distress, and then, to my surprise, he starts laughing. Not just a chuckle, but full-on, doubled-over laughter.

"What's so funny?" I demand, feeling my face heat up again.

He removes his glasses to wipe tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "Oh man, Brooks. You should see your face right now. You look like you've seen a ghost. Or maybe a really kinky ghost."

And then, I can't help myself. A giggle escapes me, then another, and suddenly we're both howling with laughter. Theabsurdity of the situation—the mix-up, the shared bungalow, the realization about the nature of the retreat—it's all just too much.

As our laughter subsides, I find myself looking at Chuck in a new light. Maybe, just maybe, this week won't be a total disaster.

"So," he says, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Partner yoga at 5?"

I grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him. "In your dreams, Newcomb."

He catches it easily, grinning. "Can't blame a guy for trying. I’m sorry about this, Ruby. I really am. I feel like I ruined your trip."

I sign. “Well, it’s not all your fault. In fact, it was kind of ruined before I even arrived. Tyler booked me into the wrong week, so even if we weren’t stuck sharing, everything would be messed up.”

As we unpack, settling into our designated spaces, I can't shake the feeling that this week is going to be… different. For better or worse, I'm stuck with Chuck Newcomb, at a couples retreat, in one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.

As I watch him struggle to fit his hockey-player frame into our tiny closet space, I figure this might be okay. A break from routine. A challenge. An adventure.

Or not.

13

CHUCK

My head is spinning fasterthan a puck in a shootout. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm at a couples retreat with my teammate's little sister. This has disaster written all over it in big, flashing neon letters. I still can’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere is punking me. This shit is too weird to be true.

And it’s nobody’s fault, really—not mine and not Ruby’s. It’s a misunderstanding of massive proportion, no doubt. But nothing about it was intentional.

It just happened.

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