Page 5 of Party Favors
It was odd, though. There was a disconnect in Wren’s brain. She knew Amanda so well. She knew Amanda’s hopes and dreams. She knew Amanda fantasized about ditching the family business for good. She knew Amanda hated to be called the disco ball heiress. They shared their daily triumphs and disappointments. Amanda treated Wren like she was more than the wild child or the party girl. Amanda made Wren feel special with nothing but a DM. But Wren had never heard Amanda’s voice. Wren didn’t know Amanda’s hair color. It was a bit of a mindfuck.
But Wren didn’t need to know the physical things about Amanda to know she had an annoyingly huge crush on her.
The physical things were pretty nice, though.
“Let’s get you back to our cottage to rinse off, warm up, and change,” Wren suggested. Amanda nodded and stood up. Her clothes were still dripping.
“We’re going to keep swimming,” William said. “Should we meet at the bar before dinner? Say six thirty?”
“Sure. See you then,” Wren said.
They swung by the front desk to grab Amanda’s bags, getting a few funny glances. Wren was giving the lobby a show in her swimsuit. She’d forgotten to grab a towel or a robe when they’d left the pool, which sucked, considering they had to walk down a snowy garden path to get to their cottage.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Wren said as they exited the lodge. Wren had wanted this so badly. She’d thought about it for ages before pulling the trigger and begging Amanda to come. She was normally impulsive, but this had been cooking in her brain for years.
“I feel like a walking, talking disaster so far.” Amanda was staring straight ahead, not meeting Wren’s eyes. Her teeth were chattering.
“Nah. It’s been great. Nothing breaks the ice like fallin’ in a pool.”
A chuffing little chuckle escaped Amanda’s mouth. She was wearing pink lipstick that hadn’t been ruined by her wet tumble, and her lips seemed plump and juicy. And … Wren needed to stop staring before she made it weird.
It was just that every once in a while she met someone in real life that she really wanted to see in lingerie. Trial of the trade, she supposed. Benji was a good example. He looked flawless in the stuff she designed. Big and jacked and full of contradictions. From the moment they’d met, she had yearned to make lingerie for him.
She felt that same tug with Amanda.
She imagined Amanda in a piece from her decadent new collection of robes, dressing gowns, and peignoirs. Ultra luxurious. Super flirty.
But she had to stop sketching editorial photoshoots in her head and focus on the issues at hand. Which were not Amanda’s measurements. Or the way her skin would glow if covered in black English net and marabou. Or,oh, what about that champagne charmeuse dressing gown with the—Nope. Wren needed to focus.
“About our cottage,” she said, wrenching her mind away from lingerie. “It’s called the Chalet, but in the description, it’s labeled as perfect for the junior executive. Did I tell you that?”
They came to a stop in front of the cottage door.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Right. I wasn’t paying attention. I mean,juniorandexecutivesound like nothing words to me.” Wren used her keycard to open their cottage. They stepped inside.
The Chalet was a small two-story building with lots of windows, exposed wood, and a brick fireplace. The bottom floor had a sitting area, a lavish bathroom, and what Wren had expected to be a bedroom. Upstairs was a loft bedroom and another fireplace. There was also a private saltwater hot tub on the covered back porch, which was the type of extravagance Wren didn’t know how to deal with now that she had money. She’d grown up swimming in a horse trough with the other kiddos in the trailer park, so a private hot tub was fanciness personified to her.
“This is gorgeous. Is that my room?” Amanda swung open the door. “Oh. Guess not.”
There was a conference table in there. It had surprised Wren as well. It seemed so out of place. Evidently this was where they expected those junior executives to make deals and influence people. Or whatever it was that businessy folks did. She was luckily successful enough that she could hire junior executives to do that job for her lingerie endeavors.
“William was the one who booked the reservations. The resort is courting him to take over one of the bars or be in charge of their event circuit. Or something. I don’t pay attention,” Wren said in a rush. “Either way, he had the hookup. I didn’t look at pictures first. I’m so sorry.”
Wren should have done her own research, but instead, she’d jumped in feet first without investigating. Then invited along a friend.
“It’s fine.” Amanda dropped her suitcase and a garment bag on the stone floor. Her eyes seemed panicky. “So, there’s only one bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“And only …” Amanda touched her forehead and laughed.
“One bed. Yeah. Is that all right? I could sleep on the sofa.” Wren turned toward the couch. It was more of a love seat, but she was short. She would make it work.
“No! Of course we can share a bed. That’s not a big deal.”
“You’re sure?” Wren asked. Amanda was kind of acting like it was a big deal. Maybe she snored. Not that Wren would mind. Wren was a bit of a sleep cuddler, latching on to anything and anyone in her vicinity. Everyone had their flaws.
