Page 11 of Room 810

“The locals make it from the roots of a plant. It has a mild sedative effect. Don’t drink too much, though, or you could get sick.”

We took our drinks and settled in on the sand beside the fire.

I could feel Gabriel watching me. Finally, he asked, “So, what are you doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?” I turned to look at him, and his face was full of curiosity. “You’re clearly not from here.”

“What gave me away?” I asked, chuckling. “Is it the hair?” I was deflecting. This wasn’t the kind of conversation I had with my guests. I felt my barriers coming up, brick by brick, even though I truly hated being defensive about my past. It was a part of who I was, a chapter in my life’s story, and even though I hadn’t revealed my past to anyone in the two years I’d been here, I was surprised to find I wanted to share this piece of myself with Gabe. At the same time, it was harder to open up than I liked to admit.

He was still watching me, those hazel eyes of his boring into me, glowing in the firelight. “I’m originally from a town just outside of Boston,” he said, offering a piece of his own story instead of forcing me to reveal mine. “I am the only child of Frederick and Emma Barclay. We aren’t particularly close. To be honest, we just don’t relate well with each other. Not sure if you noticed, but I have a few… eccentricities, and growing up, my parents just didn’t know how to handle me. I was too rigid, too anxious, and we argued a lot. I moved out as soon as I graduated high school. Since then, I’ve always found it easier to travel, the farther from home the better.”

He turned to look out over the water, and I watched him in profile, the firelight flickering off his cheek. Sadness welled up inside me, not just for his difficult childhood but for the loss of a relationship with his parents. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I wanted to share something personal in return, but when I tried to speak, my words got lodged in my throat. I stared down at my hands clenched into fists in my lap, but then Gabe reached over and took one of them in his, stroking the back of my hand until I relaxed my grip and opened for him. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said gently.

The soothing motion of his touch traveled up my arm, through my chest, and I drew in the deepest breath I’d taken in years. “I used to be a CEO for a major tech firm,” I admitted, and Gabe made a choking sound of surprise, making me smile. “I know, hard to imagine me wearing a suit and tie, hair short and slicked back, being all fierce in a boardroom.” I laughed lightly and shook my head, my smile slipping away. “But then my whole world fell apart. My dad died, and I wasn’t there for him. I was across the country trying to close on a deal.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and I knew he meant it, but I couldn’t look at him. I stared down at the ground in front of me, drawing circles in the sand with a fingertip.

“For how much time I spent trying to make money, I was surprised to find that none of it mattered in the end. We can’t take it with us when we die. I vowed never to miss out on living life the way it was meant to be, with passion and joy.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, you look like you’re happy with where you’ve ended up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, and while I was happy overall, I knew that I was still missing the biggest part of the equation—someone to share it all with.

“That’s enough serious talk. This is supposed to be your vacation,” I declared, pushing off the sand. “Come on. We need a refill on these drinks.” Pulling Gabriel up by our joined hands, it brought him up beside me, our bodies aligned, mere inches apart. I could feel the heat coming off him… or maybe it was the bonfire, now roaring, sparks being carried on the breeze.

We spent the next two hours drinking, talking, and laughing, and I even convinced Gabriel to dance with me. I saw a whole new side of him, and I felt myself drawn in as he opened up. I liked this version of him a lot.

“Gods, why haven’t I done this sooner?” he slurred, staring down into his cup. He was listing to the side a little, propping himself up in the sand. “This is way better than sitting on a plane for hours. Better than writing reviews and analyzing every little thing all the time. Better than room service and whirlpool tubs, all-you-can-eat buffets and indoor pools with waterslides. Even better than those little mints they leave on your pillows.”

Gabe was obviously drunk. I plucked his cup from his hand and set it aside.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished with that,” he said, reaching to take it back, but he lost his balance, his body falling flush against mine, his chest pressing against the length of my arm.

“That’s enough relaxing for you,” I sassed, ignoring the way it felt to have him so close. It would be so easy to just angle myself a bit, to bring us face to face. Instead, I nudged him with my shoulder. “Come here,” I said, flopping back on the sand. “Look up,” I told him.

With a rum-soaked sigh, he obeyed, his body tilting until he hit the sand with a thump. “Wow…” he whispered. “The stars are so bright here.” His smile dissolved, and a look of overwhelming sadness took its place. “I can’t tell you the last time I looked up…”

As we watched, the stars began winking out, one by one. The clouds had begun to roll in. I sat up and listened. I’d been so distracted by Gabriel that I hadn’t noticed the wind picking up. In the background, the waves were crashing hard against the beach.

It was getting late, and the fire was dying down, darkness swallowing the world around us. I could feel the shift in the air, the first hint of what was headed our way. There were only a few people left on the beach. Everyone had gone home to prepare for the storm.

“Time to call it a night, I think.” Concern stirred inside me, a feeling I had essentially banished from my life. I didn’t like how it felt now, twisting through my gut.

On our way down the boardwalk, Gabriel staggered a bit and almost took a wrong turn, so I led him back to his cabin. I paused in front of his door. It was hard to leave. I felt like there was more that needed to be said, but I didn’t know what. Maybe a confession.

“Good night, Gabe,” I said, taking a step back, but before I could leave, he snaked an arm around my waist and dragged me back.

“Wait,” he said firmly, his eyes blazing. “Stay.”

And then his lips were on mine, hot and insistent. I gasped, and with my lips parted, his tongue slipped through. My gasp turned to a moan, and I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair. His hands moved from my waist, lower to knead at my ass, and when he pulled my hips in, I could feel his hard length against mine.

It took everything in me to stop. My whole body wanted to follow his lead, but I could taste the rum he’d been drinking, and I groaned, forcing myself back with my palms braced on his chest. Gods, I wanted him, but there were so many reasons why it would be a bad idea.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, confused, blinking at me blearily.

“You’re drunk,” I reminded him, and he opened his mouth to argue, but I put a finger across his lips. “You are, and so am I. But I promise, if you still feel this way in the morning, come find me. I’ll be more than willing to revisit this activity.”

“Toby…” he growled, but he let me go this time, watching me walk away with longing in his eyes.

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