Suite Dreams

by Rachel Hawthorne

  Rachel Hawthorne

  Suite Dreams

  For Anna Campbell,

  advisor on all things Australian

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  “So what are you and the main squeeze doing over…

  Chapter 2

  Jude had left his duffel bag outside. I held the…

  Chapter 3

  Jude had her at g’day.

  Chapter 4

  “So a snowball really does collect more snow as it…

  Chapter 5

  When I stepped out of my room, to my surprise,…

  Chapter 6

  Jude was exceptional. He cleaned and reset the tables in…

  Chapter 7

  “Okay, so spill it. What is the real deal with…

  Chapter 8

  Sunday night wasn’t quite the madhouse of the night before.

  Chapter 9

  Jude and I had survived the night, sleeping in the…

  Chapter 10

  “Rick and I are not getting back together. Ever. He…

  Chapter 11

  I sat in class the next morning, trying to focus…

  Chapter 12

  Jude overtook me with no problem. I preferred him in…

  Chapter 13

  The farther we walked, the more trees surrounded us and…

  Chapter 14

  Some time later, Jude found some dusty horse blankets that…

  Chapter 15

  I walked out of the classroom with an immense sense…

  About the Author

  Other Books by Rachel Hawthorne

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  “So what are you and the main squeeze doing over winter break?”

  We were definitely not going to be doing any squeezing. Although I wasn’t ready to admit that yet. Not to anyone. Not even Mel, the closest thing I had to a best friend on campus.

  We were walking home after finishing our shift at The Chalet—a fancy schmancy restaurant near the university where we were both students. It was a little after eleven but a full moon, the wreath-decorated streetlights, and the twinkling white lights on the trees illuminated our path along the snow-covered sidewalk. Our black ties and aprons were tucked into our pockets and our jackets were zipped against the brisk wind and swirling snow. My red knitted cap was pulled down low over my black hair, keeping my ears semiwarm.

  Mel was a year older than I was, but she didn’t hold my freshman status against me. Besides, after only one semester I was a mere three hours short of being a sophomore myself, having placed out of some courses and then carrying a full course load.

  I was embarrassingly smart—at least in the world of academia.

  When it came to relationships with guys, though, I was a total ignoramus.

  Case in point: Today was the beginning of winter break and my first boyfriend ever was at that very moment flying the friendly skies, heading to Australia—without me.

  I’d met Rick the day I moved into Wilson Hall. He’d helped unload my boxes from my parents’ car, teasing me the entire time because I had so much stuff. He was a minimalist who boasted that he could fit his life into one box. He’d never met a single-purpose item that he liked.

  We’d spent the semester hanging out together, being a couple. We lived in the same co-ed dorm, which made it convenient. We ate meals together, went to the library to study, attended football games, and had amazing make-out sessions.

  I’d viewed the upcoming winter break—when studying wouldn’t be a necessity—as a time for us to take our relationship to the next level, to strengthen our bond, to get to know each other even better.

  But right before finals, he’d begun to question whether or not we were really working as a couple. I was crushed, but I was determined to handle it maturely. We’d hugged, I’d cried, and even I had to admit that something was missing. But what exactly? I didn’t know. In retrospect, I suppose you should know someone well before you jump into a relationship, and a guy’s box-hauling skills may not be the best indicator of your compatibility. Even if he is cute with a slow-to-curl-up sexy smile. So Rick had suggested we split up for a while. We’d stay friends. Maybe we’d get back together. At that point, I really didn’t know. Or maybe I just didn’t want to face the truth.

  The timing of this decision couldn’t have been worse. I’d thought we were going to spend the entire winter break together so I’d told my parents that I was staying on campus. By the time I realized there would be only a handful of students who stayed and I’d be without Rick, my parents—planning to tour several southern states—had already packed up their twenty-seven-foot travel trailer and headed for warmer climes.

  Yeah, sure, it wasn’t too late for me to catch a bus, train, or plane and meet up with them somewhere, but let’s get real here. Would you want to spend your winter break constantly within nine yards of your parents?

  Me either.

  I love them, but the love deepens at a distance.

  So I was staying on campus as originally planned. I was just doing it without Rick. I tried to convince myself I didn’t care. But who was I trying to kid? It was totally going to suck.

  To fill the yawning abyss of time, I’d registered to take two classes during the winter mini-mester. Two courses crammed into two intense weeks. I was actually kind of looking forward to it, viewed it as a challenge to have to concentrate so intently on the studies. I know. I’m strange. But I didn’t have anything better to do and in the long run if I stayed on my graduation plan, I’d finish at least one semester early.

  Plus I needed to work and had asked for some extra hours. If I could grab enough shifts, and if the tips from the incoming tourists were as generous as I’d heard they’d be, maybe I could save up for a spring break trip. Do my own version of getting away from it all then. Provided Rick and I didn’t get back together.

  “Oh, no,” Mel said, suddenly taking my arm and turning me toward her. “I know that look. Alyssa, did you guys break up?”

  “What? No. Absolutely not.” I felt as though I was in a Shakespeare play, protesting too much and hoping she wouldn’t notice. Rick and I had agreed not to tell anyone, just in case we got back together. It would be less awkward around our friends that way. No one taking sides while we were apart, trash-talking the other party to show support, and then having to pretend they liked the other person if we became a couple again. “It’s just that, well, he went to Australia.”

  Her hazel eyes widened at that news. If her short red hair wasn’t already semi-spiked in a style similar to that of a hissing cat, it might have reacted as well. “Wow! What’d he do? Come into an inheritance?”

  I actually laughed. Mel had that effect on me. She made things seem not quite so dire and unmanageable. “No, at least I don’t think so. He discovered couch surfing. People let strangers sleep on their couch, and then they go sleep on someone else’s couch. Swapping around, I guess.”

  “Ew! Sounds a little too Hostel for me. Does he even know these people?”

  I’d worried about that too. “He said it was safe. He used an Internet site. People are interviewed or something. I’m not really sure how it all works.”

  “Still, I think I’d be more comfortable in a five-star hotel.”

  “Like any of us could ever afford a five-star hotel,” I pointed out.

  “Not right now, I’ll admit, but someday. So how long is Rick gonna be gone?” she asked.

  “Until the next semester starts.”

  “Bummer. I mean, really. Why so long?”

  “Wouldn’t you want to be there as long as possible? It’s not like he can just pop over and pop back. I think it takes, like, a whole day to get there.�
��

  “I can’t believe how understanding you’re being about this,” Mel said. “If Boomer headed to another country without me, he could find himself a new girlfriend when he got back.”

  Boomer had been her boyfriend since high school. Apparently she didn’t have relationship issues.

  If Rick and I were still totally committed to each other, hadn’t decided to take a break from each other, I would have been upset with Rick’s leaving me behind. Not that I wanted to sleep on a stranger’s couch. And money for an airline ticket was also an obstacle. But we weren’t a couple so I had no right to complain. Besides, with Rick gone, I could really concentrate on my studies, right?

  Was I expecting too much to want a few fireworks in a relationship?

  I supposed that I could talk to Mel, get her opinion on things, but it wasn’t as though we’d done any deep soul sharing. We’d bonded over spilled drinks, bitchy customers, and taking up the slack at each other’s tables. She, Boomer, Rick, and I had shared a couple of pizzas, sat together at some football games. But we weren’t to the point where we could talk about anything and everything.

  “That’s four weeks of datelessness,” Mel continued. “What are you going to do?”

  “Take a couple of classes over the mini-mester. Maybe work some extra hours.”

  “Omigod! Classes and work over winter break? Are you crazy?”

  “You’re working,” I reminded her.

  “Well, yeah, but not extra. You need to spend winter break being wild and carefree!”

  “A little late for that.”

  “You should have discussed this with me earlier. I would have talked you out of it.”

  “But I want to do it. And with Rick gone, I’m looking at empty hours.”

  “Okay, but before classes start on Monday, you need to do something totally wild. We’ll go to the lodge and have a spa day. Massage, facial, mani-pedi. The works. The tension will melt away. I’ll call in the morning and make a reservation.”

  It sounded heavenly, but the reality was that my budget was stretched a little tight.

  “I’m not sure I can afford—”

  “I’ve got a two-for-one couples special coupon.”

  “Couples? They’ll think we’re—”

  “So? Trust me. I’ve had a day there before. And no way will Boomer ever again be subjected to what he considers torture.”

  “He went with you?”

  “Well, yeah, because again it was a couples coupon. Anyway, they pamper you like crazy. Even feed you a little lunch with a sparkly brew. When they’re finished, you’ll be so relaxed, you won’t care what they think.”

  It was so tempting….

  “Oh, stop fighting it,” she said. “It’ll be the best money you ever spent.”

  My parents had sent me some extra money so I could enjoy myself over winter break. I nodded, decision made. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “Great! And I’ll request a male massage therapist. They have such strong hands.”

  I think she actually shivered, and I didn’t think it was from the cold. We reached the edge of campus where our paths diverged.

  “I’ll check you later,” she said. “And have sweet dreams about Hans with the magic hands.”

  Laughing, I watched as she hurried down the street toward a house she rented with some other students. As a sophomore she wasn’t restricted to living on campus like I was.

  Because the town had a low crime rate, so low it was practically nonexistent, I felt comfortable walking on alone, even though it was so late. Besides, I carried pepper spray in my jacket pocket. My dad had given it to me when I left for college.

  The wind picked up. Snow was falling more heavily.

  As I approached Wilson Hall, I couldn’t help but think it looked deserted. It was more of a residential house than a typical dorm. Painted a light blue that reminded me of a winter sky, it was built in a Victorian style, with white decorative trim and a steep roof. It had four floors, and each floor had several suites. Very quaint and cozy.

  I turned up the short walkway that led to the front steps. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone—large and broad—lurch out from the shadows at the side of the house. Startled, I stepped back, blinking rapidly against the fat snowflakes that were hampering my visibility. The only things that registered were that I didn’t know him, he was moving fast, and he looked to have the power of a bulldozer. With survival reflexes kicking in, I yanked the pepper spray out of my jacket pocket and I sprayed him in the face before darting past him.

  “What the f—” His curses were muffled because he dropped to the ground and face-planted in the snow.

  Then I heard, “What’d you do that for?”

  The guy sounded completely baffled instead of angry or mean. But more intriguing, he spoke with an Australian accent. I was a sucker for accents and halfway wished he’d said something as he’d been approaching at lightning speed. I might not have been so quick to react. Or maybe I still would have. A stranger near midnight? Coming out of the shadows? What was I supposed to think?

  He sure wasn’t there to sell Boy Scout popcorn.

  I stopped my frantic attempt to slip the keycard into the slot. My hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t get the alignment right anyway. I needed to calm down.

  I looked back over my shoulder. The guy had straightened and was kneeling with his snow-filled hands cupped over his eyes. Keeping my finger poised on the pepper spray nozzle, I crept slowly toward the edge of the porch, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was about to come rushing forward. “Who are you?”

  My voice sounded all high and squeaky. Maybe because I was close to hyperventilating.

  “Jude. Jude Hawkins.” He’d pushed the gravelly words out through clenched teeth. “Dammit! It hurts like the devil.”

  He sounded as though he was in serious pain. Guilt shot through me. I glanced around again. Still no one else. He was alone, but the question remained…

  “Why are you here?” I demanded, grateful to sound a little more in control and less like air leaking out of a balloon.

  He scooped up more snow, dropped his head back, and put the icepack he’d fashioned out of the mounds over his eyes. “How long is it gonna sting?”

  He appeared fairly harmless now, which was the whole point of pepper spray, I guessed. Still I felt badly that I’d reacted first and was asking questions later. It wasn’t like me to panic. But then very few people were still on campus—just those of us working, taking mini-mester courses, or hanging around for the snow. I hadn’t expected anyone to burst out of the shadows. “I’m not sure. About half an hour or so, maybe longer.”

  He groaned, and even his groan seemed to have an Australian accent.

  “I’m really sorry, but what are you doing out here? I mean, it’s late and you were lurking in the shadows….”

  Snow fell from one side of his face, maybe because he’d raised an eyebrow to give me a heated glare—and had obviously thought better of it, because he reached for more snow.

  “I wasn’t lurking. I was staying out of the wind and snow, waiting for someone to come along and let me in. The door’s locked.”

  So was he visiting someone?

  “Yeah, they’re keeping it locked over winter break,” I said. With so few students around, they thought it would lessen the chances of vandalism or anyone coming in who shouldn’t. Like my mystery guy. “Do you know someone who’s living here? Is there someone I should get for you?”

  “All I need is the couch.”

  “The couch?”

  “Yeah. A bloke swapped couches with me.”

  Okay, logic had run off when panic arrived, but it was slowly starting to return. A sneaky suspicion began working its way through my locked-down brain. “Uh, who offered you a couch?”

  “Bloke named Rick. Rick Whirly. You know him?”

  “Um, yeah.” Rick must have offered Jude the couch in his suite in exchange for a couch in Australia. I sank
down into the snow. “I am so sorry.”

  With his gloved hands, he brushed the snow off his face and squinted at me. “Are you Alyssa Manning?”

  “How did you know?”

  “He mentioned you.”

  I wondered what he’d said. Was it before or after we’d decided we needed a break from each other? At this point, did it really matter?

  “Unfortunately he didn’t tell me about you,” I confessed.

  “Huh. That’s odd.”

  Actually, it wasn’t. Rick was the strong, silent type found in romance novels. Well, maybe not so strong, but definitely silent. He was as minimalistic with his words as he was with his lifestyle. Part of the reason our relationship was a little disappointing. I wanted communication between us. Rick thought kissing was communication. And okay, on some level it was, but I wanted words as well. I wanted to know what he thought and felt.

  Reaching out, I wrapped my hand around Jude’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you inside so I can look at the damage. Blink as fast as you can. I read somewhere it helps. Creates a natural wash like eye drops or something.” I was babbling as I pulled him up to his feet.

  “What was that anyway? What’d you spray in my face?” he asked, and his sexy accent made me wish he was the one doing the babbling.

  “Pepper spray,” I reluctantly confessed.

  “That’s illegal in Australia.”

  “Yeah, it is in some states here, too.” I wasn’t sure about Vermont. I guessed I’d discover the legal ramifications if he were to bring charges against me. Maybe I’d be lucky and it wouldn’t occur to him to report me and my pepper spray to the authorities.