Page 27 of How to Date a Rockstar

Jeez, this hot guy was eye-fucking my fake boyfriend? I really couldn’t win.

“Reservation under Meadows,” I answered with a clipped voice. “First name is Summer.”

I didn’t like putting my first and last names together out loud. Summer Meadows. I was self-conscious about it, but hardly anyone ever commented. Or probably cared.

“One moment.” Dewey managed to drag his eyes away from Scotty and began tapping at the hidden keyboard.

“I was wondering,” I casually leaned against the counter and lowered my voice slightly, “if you had any rooms that had two separate beds? Two queens or two kings?”

“We do.” He didn’t look up or even stop typing, but his lips twisted into a knowing smirk. Bastard. “I can check to see if we have any currently available in one moment.”

I risked a glance over at Scotty. He stood at my side with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at me, looking faintly amused about the whole thing.

When Dewey stopped typing, he stared at the computer screen for several long seconds. “So,” — he finally looked up — “you have reservations for the yurt.”

I blinked. I wasn’t even sure what he just said. “The what?”

“The yurt.” He glanced over at Scotty and laughed under his breath.

What the hell?

My eyes dashed to Scotty as my brain quickly flipped through a mental index file of spa jargon. Reservations for a yurt? Was that a type of new-age treatment? Some crazy new form of massage?

“There’s a note attached to your reservation. It’s from a Lara Meadows. It seems she was the one who booked and paid for the reservation?”

I nodded. “That’s my mother.”

He glanced down at his screen and read off it in a flat voice. “The note says, ‘Surprise! I booked you and Scotty into the yurt for the weekend. I know how much Scotty enjoys the outdoors. The pictures online were absolutely gorgeous; I couldn’t resist. Happy Birthday, Summer. Dinner reservations at the Crystal Restaurant tonight at 7. See you then!”

He finished reading, then looked up at me. No one spoke a word while I fidgeted with a strap on my backpack. I had that uncomfortable feeling of being the only one who didn’t understand the punchline of a joke. That usually only happened to me when it was a really dirty joke.

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean by a yurt?”

Scotty rubbed his mouth, almost like he was suppressing a laugh. “It’s like a round tent.”

My eyes rounded in horror. “A tent? We’re staying at this luxurious spa and my mother booked us into a tent?”

Dewey grimaced slightly. “To be fair, the yurt is hardly a tent. It’s very nice. Think of it more like glamping than camping. It’s very romantic. Honeymooners love to stay there. It has its own hot tub and it’s very, very private.” He raised his brows suggestively.

“But, but...” I stuttered.

Scotty took a step toward me smiling sympathetically. Or psychotically. I couldn’t tell. “Sunshine, this weekend is about your mum. This was a surprise she planned for you. We should at least check it out.”

I spun to face him. “She didn’t do this for me! I don’t enjoy sleeping in tents! You’re the one she did this for.” I stabbed a finger at his chest as I accused him. “You’re the one who loves the great outdoors!”

Scotty folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t particularly love the great outdoors, Summer.”

I frowned as realization dawned. Oh yeah, that was just one of the many little lies I told my mom — that my boyfriend was an avid outdoorsman.

Scotty laughed at the deflated look of defeat on my face. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave...”

I blew out a puff of air. I was trapped in another lie, he was spouting literary quotes, and the reservation clerk was practically drooling as he stared dreamily at Scotty. I guess he had a thing for well-read men. The more he ogled my boyfriend — I mean my fake boyfriend — the less attractive Dewey was looking to me.

“Fine,” I pouted. “We’ll stay in the yurt thingee.”

Dewey’s lips twitched but, for the most part, he maintained a poker face. “We don’t get a lot of people staying in the yurt this time of year. Let me double-check that it’s all ready for you. One moment, please.”

This time of year. My cheeks puckered as if I’d just sucked on a lemon. It was winter. There was no way I was staying in a tent in this cold weather.

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