Page 15 of Dirty Dancer

It was almost one by the time we finished our lunch. We really had slept in late. Well, maybe not that late. We’d definitely been in bed late. I cleaned up the plates and put them back on the rolling cart while Rome grabbed our phones from the bedroom. He also came out with a pair of my sandals. Most of the time, I was either in boots or sneakers.

Sandals sounded nice. I tucked my feet into them and grimaced at my toes. “I need to get a pedicure before the show opens.” Most of the time, people didn’t see my feet. They were often bruised from the work. But the current polish was chipped on three of my toes and utterly missing on the others. “Or do it myself.”

“We can go today if you want,” Rome offered and I grinned at him.

“Nope, you wanted to do something else and we still have a couple more days before the show opens.” I double checked the messages on my phone. The family chat with all the Vandals had a few messages, including one from Rome telling them I was asleep. I sent them a good morning or afternoon, depending on their time zone.

Then let Vaughn and Freddie know Rome and I were heading out. My phone shared its location with them at all times and I had a tracker. Oh, I glanced down at myself. “One sec, I need to get a different purse.” ‘Cause I couldn’t wear a holster in this outfit.

The cross body sling bag was perfect. My gun fit right in it and the holster secured. All I had to do was slide down the zipper to get it out. My phone went in the front pocket with my hotel room key. My wallet was in the middle pocket. I wore it across my chest so no one could lift anything from it.

Ready, I grinned at Rome.

He watched me with the most adorable expression, then tilted his head as I braided my hair without looking away from him. It was still damp, but it would dry and if it was braided back, it would be out of the way.

Before he could say anything, his phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. He typed in one word, hit send then turned the screen off before he pocketed it. The guys knew where I was and they could find me.

When he held out his hand to me, I clasped it and let him lead the way. The Florida sun blazed down at us as we exited the front of the hotel. The humid air left sweat dotting my brow, but the breeze chased it away. We were staying at a hotel not far from the beach. Where Braxton Harbor had chilly water lapping at its shores, the Atlantic was much warmer down here.

I wasn’t sure if we’d grab a rental car or get an Uber, but instead Rome led the way down the path. The area was popular with the tourists and there was a whole string of hotels along the beach. A mall wasn’t much farther away, and there was plenty to see and do.

For a brief moment, I wished we were home and he had his backpack loaded with spray paint and we were on our way to do a project. It would be colder there and the wind would have morebite, but even the gray and chill days, I loved the city. For now, I just soaked up the area around us. There were plenty of other pedestrians. Music blared from passing cars. A wide variety of bars and eateries boasting indoor and outdoor seating cropped up as we passed.

It was just a colorful swath of humanity, populated with a wild array of culture, music, and art. I slowed when I spotted a mural and Rome halted so I could look at it. He didn’t seem that interested but I kind of had to know…

“What do you think of it?” It had the look of the water itself, the waves rolling in and there was sand and seashells visible. Even the sun rising in the distance had been added to the painting. It was—almost too serene.

Rome turned to the painting. “The water is off. It’s low tide—because you can see the sandbars, but the waves look like high tide.”

Oh.

I studied the image and it seemed to rob it of some of the serenity. When he gave a light tug, though, I forgot about the mural and moved with him. He paused at a street vendor and bought me a floppy hat. The sunglasses helped to shield my eyes, but the hat would protect my face.

The longer we walked, the happier I was that I’d gone with shorts and a light shirt over a tank top. Rome was in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. With his sunglasses, and easy stride, he blended right in with the locals. I didn’t worry about where he had a weapon hidden.

Rome wasalwaysresourceful. The longer we walked, the more tension melted away. The soreness in my muscles was still there, but it wasn’t the primary thing on my mind. My steps were looser and I spent as much time watching some of the street performers as I did the various musicians, artists, and vendors along the way.

At one kiosk, I found a seashell necklace on a leather strap. Rome paid for it then tied it around my neck for me. It wasn’t a choker, but it also didn’t dangle. When I picked out one for him, he studied it for a moment then said yes. So I paid for it and he shifted lower so I could tie it around his neck. His shell was longer, more of an oval where mine was a fanned out pattern.

It looked elegant on him.

“Do you like it?”

He touched it with two fingers then gave me a light kiss. “Yes.”

Clasping hands again, we continued toward a boardwalk area that kind of reminded me of Southern California and the pier in Santa Monica. Kinda. But Rome diverted toward a different hotel. When I frowned, he just gave me a little tug.

“Trust me.”

Of course, I trusted him. He led the way through the sliding doors and we crossed the Arabesque Spanish Mission red-tiled lobby and along a long passageway that opened out onto a huge swimming pool. It was more like a lagoon than a pool. The size of it really did give it a lagoon feeling. Actual music came from the speakers and there were plenty of pool chairs and tables.

Most of them were empty. I’d have expected it to be much busier here, but only a few people were moving around the pool area and they seemed like staff. Rome headed toward a side of the lagoon-like pool where a man in a polo shirt and white shorts waited for us.

And yes, he was absolutely waiting for us.

“Mr. Cleary?”

“Yes,” Rome said and he handed him a card.

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