Page 17 of Some Like It Hott

I don’t look at my room number until I’m standing in front of the numbered elevator buttons, and then I realize: It’s the room next to the one I was just in.

I go back to the desk. I don’t think it’s my imagination that she cringes slightly as I approach. Probably because I look like Dr. Doom, my expression reflecting my current attitude.

“I don’t suppose you have any other rooms left?” I ask.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head.

“Or you could trade this for a room reserved for someone who hasn’t checked in yet?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Now she actuallysoundssorry. “But as you know, it’s wedding season, and that room I just gave you is only open because a bridesmaid no-showed. It’s literally the last room we have left.”

Of course it is.

“There might be a cancellation at some point?” she says doubtfully. “They’re rare in summer, but it’s…possible?”

“Could you put me on the waiting list?”

“Of course, sir, but it’s—it’s a long waiting list.”

I frown.

“We could bump you to the top of the list, of course, sir,” she says quickly.

She hastily grabs for a pencil and scribbles something on a sticky note. I eye it suspiciously. A hundred bucks says the person on the next shift tosses that scrap of paper.

“Is that Hott Springs Eternal’s system for keeping notes?” I ask.

“There’s no way for the computer to remind us,” she says, biting her lip apologetically. “If I edit the room entry in the reservation software, no one will see it till you check out. You can check back in from time to time, see if something’s opened up.”

I make a mental reminder to let Hanna know she needs to research alternative systems—and one to come back on Monday and follow up about the waiting list.

I ride the elevator back to the floor I came from and let myself into the room next tohers.

It’s the twin to the one I just saw. Same cream-colored walls and exposed beams, same queen bed with chunky roughly hewn wood, same armoire, same woven blankets, rugs, and pillows.

I toss my suitcase onto the bed and unpack my things—it doesn’t take long. And then I settle myself on the bed and turn on the TV.

But even with the TV on, I can hear her next door. I can’t hear her music because of the earbuds, but the sound of her shoes on the desk reverberates through my brain.

I can see her in my mind’s eye.

Round face; wild curly dark hair; curvy, generous body. What was left of her clothing hid nothing—not the plump triangle where her thighs met nor the glorious swerve of her ass, anddefinitelynot the nipples poking hard against the flimsy black lace of her bra.

Shewasdancing like no one was watching, her hips rocking and swaying, every soft, pale lickable part of her in motion.

I can picture her moments later, too, standing in front of me, one hip cocked slightly to the side, a teasing smile on her face, hand reaching for my tie. Confident and challenging, the kind of woman who could be caught dancing topless by her boss’s brother and laugh about it.

I close my eyes, but I can still see her, a snapshot memory, on the inside of my lids.

8

Preston

Get in, get out, get it done.

That’s my mantra as I step into the Hott Springs Eternal conference room the next morning.

The activities calendar doesn’t need to be perfect, just good enough to earn a 4.5 average.

---