Page 49 of Inarticulate

The numbers didn’t change. 8:56 kept staring back at her.

“Holy shit!” She had to be out of here by nine.Nine!

She lunged for her clothes, riffling through the items—her pants, her long-sleeve top, her jacket. Where the hell was her underwear? “Damn it.”

She yanked a robe off the floor, shoved her arms into the sleeves, and made for the balcony doors. The cold air greeted her like a slap in the face as she ran for the pool in search of her bra and panties.

Thick mist wafted toward her from the water, the entire top of the surface blanketed in fluffy white.

“Shit.” She spun in a circle, looking for a scoop, a rake, anything that could possibly assist in retrieving her intimate apparel and help avoid a scandal.

Nothing was there. Absolutely nothing. There was only two options—dive in or run.

“Fuck it.” She chose the latter and sprinted back to the penthouse bedroom on the tips of her freezing toes.

She shimmied out of the robe like an electrocuted belly-dancer and then pulled on the available layers of clothing, sans underwear. The material adhered to her skin, the sticky chocolate and abrasive material working together to increase her annoyance.

Once she was in the vicinity of suitably-dressed, she checked her pockets for her belongings and ran for the front door, finger combing her hair along the way. The hall was empty, the thick silence increasing her paranoia as she waited for the elevator.

Minutes ticked by. Hours. Then thedingof her arriving chariot filled her ears.

She checked her teeth in the elevator mirror and tried to bring conformity to her unruly hair. As the bell dinged her ground level destination, she looked at the tiled floor and kept her focus there until she was outside the hotel doors. There was no way she was making eye contact with anyone.

A walk of shame was always painful. Sneaking out of a rival penthouse without your underwear was excruciating. But even though the embarrassment was aggressively potent, a grin still curved her lips. There was an added energy to her step, a bigger bounce that came from the way her body still hummed from Keenan’s touch.

She wasn’t in first grade anymore. Her panties didn’t have her name clearly written on the tag. There would be no lost property announcement or search for the owner.

There was no need to panic.

The sunshine beamed extra bright as she walked through the Seattle streets, sipping a takeaway coffee and reliving the night before like it was her first trip to Disneyland. Nothing could’ve wiped the smile exercising her cheeks, nothing except Penny, who stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Rydel front doors, her arms crossed as she glared.

“Have fun last night?” her cousin greeted.

Savannah tried not to wither as the overdose of orgasmic bliss flushed from her system in an immediate detox. “What do you want, Penny?” She stopped in front of her cousin, sipped her coffee, and pretended as though she wasn’t currently doing the walk of shame without panties.

“I want to ask you nicely to stay away from him.”

“From who?” she drawled.

“Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “Then don’t pretend to be nice, because that doesn’t suit you either.”

Penny dropped her hands to her sides and raised her chin. “Keenan didn’t go home last night and you didn’t answer my calls when the receptionist buzzed your room. It’s safe to assume the two of you were together.”

“Assumptions lead to false accusations, Penny. You should learn to be more professional than that.”

“Just stay away from him, okay?”

Savannah didn’t enjoy thinly veiled threats, especially when they came from someone who had just snatched her morning high with the finesse of a Brazilian wax. The two of them were never going to get along. It was clear. Crystal. So there was no point in deflecting drama. She needed to face it head on. To gobble it up with a voracious smile on her face to ensure Penny knew she wasn’t interested in playing games.

Savannah lowered the coffee cup from her lips and calmed her expression. This could be handled with civility, right? “If you feel threatened by me, maybe you should take it up with this man of yours.”

“Or I could take it out on your staff?” she sneered. “Interviews start soon. It would be a shame if I was too angry to judge Rydel staff fairly.”

Or maybe civility was a stretch. A long stretch.

“Do that and we’re going to have a lot of problems.”

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