Page 101 of If All Else Sails
For some reason, his hesitation makes me more determined. Why should this be a big deal? So, they screwed up our reservation and put us in one room, not two. Without a single other vacancy.
One room. Me and Wyatt. My mouth is the Sahara. My heart is a galloping horse. But my face belongs to a high-stakes poker player as I repeat what I said moments ago. “It’s fine.”
“I’ll sleep on the boat,” Wyatt says. “You take the room.”
There’s no way his oversize bulk can be comfortable sleeping in his cabin’s tiny twin berth. I’ve seen him shu?ing around after getting up in the morning, stretching his back and rubbing his neck when he doesn’t realize I’m looking. This is a man who needs abed.
And I’m not about to give up my chance to sleep in a real bed.
It’s stupid to think sharing a room isn’t something we, as two mostly functioning adults who’ve spent weeks now in close proximity, could manage.
I readjust Jib in my arms and snatch the key cards off the hotel desk, handing one to Wyatt. He hesitates, then takes it, his fingers trailing over mine as he does. I pretend not to notice.
Giving him a little grin, I say, “I think we can handle sharing a room for a night, Wyatt.”
We can...can’t we?
I mean, we’ve shared a tiny murder cottage. A boat. Some deep conversations.
What’s a hotel room?
But when I walk in, stopping so quickly Wyatt bumps into the back of me, I realize hownotfine it is, after all.
The door closes behind us with what feels like a very appropriate slam of doom.
There is one king-size bed. No couch. No floor space—not that anyone shouldeversleep on a hotel floor.
How did I miss this not-at-all-tiny detail when we were at the front desk downstairs?
A single room...with a singlebed.
Wyatt leans close, his lips almost brushing my ear as he parrots back my words from the lobby. “I think we can handle sharing a room for a night, Josie.”
And we really do handle it fine. At first.
Before dinner Wyatt takes Jib on a long walk, allowing me time for an almost luxurious bath. Thealmostis no fault of the bathroom but more because of my paranoia that any second, Wyatt will return to the room. A fluffy bath towel might cover more of me than the bathing suit he’s seen me in a few times now, but it doesn’t feel the same. Not even a little.
Wyatt must have the same kinds of thoughts, because I’m dressed, fully ready, and about to call in a search party when he finally returns with Jib. His shirt is damp with sweat, and his expression is relieved when he sees me sitting in a chair by the window, fully dressed. His gaze moves over the simple sundress I pulled out of my suitcase. It’s still wrinkled even after I did the lazy girl’s steam by hanging it in the bathroom while I took my bath.
But he doesn’t look like he cares about the fabric. His gaze falls to my legs for a long moment until he blinks and looks away.
He clears his throat. “I’ll take a quick shower.”
I nod likeNo biggie.
It shouldn’t be. I mean, the murder cottage was maybe a few times the size of this room. I got used to the weirdness of knowing only a single door separated me from Wyatt when he was showering. It’s no longer a big deal on the boat, where the head is right by my cabin.
Whether it’s the change in location, the looming reality presented by the one bed, or the tension that’s been building between us, I cannot stay in the hotel room while he’s showering. Instead, I scurry to the balcony as soon as I hear the sound of the water turning on in the bathroom.
The air outside is still warm, but my skin and cheeks cool when I slump into a chair overlooking the marina. I watch the sun dipping low over the water with Jib asleep in my lap.Needing a distraction, I decide maybe it’s time to stop ignoring my family.
Since Jacob spilled the beans, Mom and Dad have texted a few times to hear all about my sailing trip. Thankfully, their interest has mainly centered around sailing, not Wyatt. But they don’t answer now, which probably means they have no service.
Jacob answers on the first ring. “So, you’re not dead or lost at sea,” he says wryly. “Guess I can call off the search party.”
“Alive and breathing,” I tell him cheerfully. “Not even a little bit lost.” Okay—actually that’s not true. I might be more lost now than I’ve ever been. But not in a way I’m prepared to talk to Jacob about. “How are you?”
“Good. Busy. You know—the usual.”
