by Lila Monroe
“Didn’t you say he turned into a bumbling idiot in her presence?”
“Hush! I’m looking on the bright side here,” I protest. “And you never know, some women find the whole Hugh Grant thing super-hot.”
“Maybe if he does the British accent . . .” April suggests, laughing.
“Can you imagine? Ooh, I’m just arriving,” I tell her, as the soothing sound of the GPS directs me off the highway and deeper into the woods. “Talk later!”
I’m expecting the hotel at Griffin Lake to impress, but when I turn up the main driveway, my jaw drops, because wow.
Dirty Dancing’s got nothing on this.
I slow to a crawl to take it all in. There’s a main lodge building, and cute cabins nestled in the trees along the shores of a gorgeous sparkling lake. People are lounging on the beach and paddling around on the water, and when I pull up out front, a uniformed valet guy leaps to open the car door for me.
“Welcome to Griffin Lake,” he says enthusiastically. “Can I offer you a beverage to refresh after your drive?”
“Yes please,” I reply, and he hands me a glass of perfectly chilled lemonade. Delicious. Clearly, Dylan has this hospitality thing on lock. I turn to grab my bags, but two more guys have already grabbed them.
“We’ll take these to your cabin. You can check in right inside,” one tells me.
“Refill?” the other asks.
I hold out my glass obediently. “Thanks!”
I could get used to this luxury lifestyle, and when I step inside, it only gets better. The place is all wood paneling and rustic stone, but instead of being stuffy, there’s an airy, modern feel—black-and-white framed photos of nature over the enormous fireplace, and cozy-looking vintage leather furniture.
“Hi, Poppy,” Lara greets me by the reception desk with a clipboard. She’s wearing a corporate baseball cap—and a decidedly un-corporate T-shirt with an angry sasquatch on the front.
“Lara, hey.” I smile to see at least one familiar face. The lobby is already busy with beautiful-looking people milling about, snapping selfies on their phones. I pause, suddenly feeling way out of place—and underdressed. I somehow missed where it said the dress code was Coachella meets South Beach. There’s more golden, bare skin on show than at a spray tan bar. “Did Dylan just invite models to this opening, or . . . ?”
“Influencers.” Lara rolls her eyes. “They all have about fifty million followers between them. We figure if they post enough photos, all their fans will want to come book.”
“Oh. Smart.” I reassess my opinion.
“You’re in the main lodge, I think,” she says, checking her list. “Dinner is being served family-style tonight in the main room to welcome everyone, with an open bar and entertainment.” Lara curls her lip. “I think someone said something about karaoke,” she adds, with clear disdain.
“Hence the open bar,” I quip.
She smirks. “I’m just glad I packed earplugs.”
She sets down her clipboard to check something on her phone, and I glance at the list of names she’s been checking in. There are a bunch of people from travel magazines, PR companies, and—
“Dapper Magazine?” I ask, my voice rising in panic.
No! No, no, no!
Lara turns. “Huh?”
“It says here there’s someone from Dapper coming. It’s not Tyler Hawkins, is it?” I ask, suddenly getting a very bad feeling.
Running into your ex is always bad enough. But running into them when you’re out in the woods, miles from anywhere?
Lara checks. “Nope, James something,” she says, and I exhale with a whoosh of relief. “I think they cancelled last minute . . .” Lara continues, “which means you get an upgrade. Cabin 6 is all yours.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask, accepting the old-fashioned key.
“It’s a long way from the karaoke,” Lara replies.
I laugh. “Then thank you kindly!”
She hands me a cute hand-drawn map of the property, and then I follow the directions back out of the main lodge and down a winding, shaded path along the shore. The water is shimmering invitingly, and I make a note to take a swim . . . later, when the dock isn’t full of girls in bikinis, all posing “casually” while their boyfriends snap five million photos.
I spot Dylan, leading a group of fashionable people on what must be a tour. He’s gesturing enthusiastically, and I can clock his charm, even from a hundred feet away. I realize for the first time that this week is a big deal for him—and not just because of Jasmine. I don’t know much about the hotel game, but I’m guessing launching a new property like this is no small task. Years of effort and planning must have gone into everything from the wildflowers dotted along every path to the retro blue Adirondacks lined up on the lawn. I’ve always found Dylan’s obsession with style to be kind of superficial, but now I see where that attention to details comes from. And looking at this place, it definitely pays off.
I find my cabin nestled in a grove of pine trees with a perfect view of the water. There’s an adorable front porch, all knotted wood with a pair of old-time rockers, but when I open the door and step inside, it’s pure minimal luxury. There are crisp white linens on the bed, a cool leather chaise to lounge on, and a vintage writing desk set with an old-fashioned typewriter. Plus, progress: when I browse the books stacked artfully on the coffee table, it’s not just a sausage-fest of Whitman and Walden, but Didion, Morrison, and Sontag, too.
I’m impressed.
My bags are already waiting for me, so I quickly change into my swimsuit and shorts, grab a towel, and head down to the shore to savor the afternoon sun. But when I approach, I find Jasmine is already out with her yoga mat, doing sun salutations on the jetty in a pale-pink workout set.
I watch in awe as she does a perfect handstand . . . and then lowers her legs in an upside-down split.
I tilt my head, amazed. I didn’t know a body could do that!
Jasmine sees me and sends a wave. While still propped on just the one hand, and keeping perfectly balanced. I wave back.
“Sorry,” I call, “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Please, I’m just finishing up.”
Jasmine moves into a new position as I make my way past her. I peel off my sneakers and sit on the end of the jetty with my toes dunked in the water.
Ahhh . . .
I take a deep breath of crisp, fresh air. The sun is warm on my shoulders, and from here, all I can see is water, trees, and mountains. I’ve never been much of a nature girl; roughing it in the middle of the woods with nothing but canned beans and a hole in the ground never had much appeal. But if this version of nature comes complete with room-service cheeseburgers and gazillion-thread-count sheets? Then sign me right up.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jasmine joins me, workout over. She gazes out across the water with a restful smile. “Being in nature just has a way of making everything melt away. You get to feel more yourself, don’t you think?”
“It’s a gorgeous property,” I agree. “Dylan did a great job.”
“That’s right, you know Dylan.” Jasmine smiles. “Did you know we went to high school together? It’s such a small world!”
“Tiny,” I agree. “He’s a great guy, don’t you think?” I add, figuring I may as well scope out how Jasmine is feeling, considering I need to somehow conjure just the right words for her to fall in love with him.
“Sure. Great,” she replies.
Well, that’s . . . vague.
“And generous, too,” I add. “He invited me along, even though this opening week should be reserved for VIPs. Like you.”
Jasmine laughs. “Oh, I’m not important. To be honest, I’d hoped this trip would be more low-key.” Her gaze settles on a group of women snapping photos down the shore. “I need some time out from all, well, that, so I might just stay in my cabin the whole time. Do some deep meditation, treat it like a real retreat. Go deeper within.”
Uh-oh.
; I gulp. If Jasmine decides to lock herself away in seclusion for the rest of the trip, then Dylan won’t have a chance to connect with her. Plus, how am I supposed to help him sweep the woman off her feet when she’s in downward dog the whole time?
“Seclusion can be good,” I agree carefully, “but there’s something really invigorating about being with people, too, don’t you think? Recharging from other people’s energy, getting the spark of new inspiration . . . Dylan’s invited all kinds of interesting people. Wouldn’t it be a shame to miss out on those moments of connection?”
Jasmine looks thoughtful. “You know, I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“Isn’t your whole philosophy balance?” I ask, trying to hide my eagerness. “I’m sure you can find time to recharge and have some fun with everyone.”
And by everyone, I mean Dylan.
And by fun, I mean, fall head over heels in love.
Jasmine finally nods. “You’re right. Balance is important. Thanks for the reminder.” She gives me a warm smile. “I’m so happy you’re going to be sharing this experience. You should join me for sunrise yoga, the energy is amazing first thing.”
“Sunrise nap sessions are more my style,” I admit, “but sure, why not? I’ll see you at dinner later?”
“I was just going to order room service and hang in my room . . .” Jasmine says, “but you know what? Getting to know everyone sounds great. Let’s walk over together.”
Jasmine sits cross-legged and closes her eyes, turning her face towards the sun in total peace. I take that as my cue to leave. “See you at seven,” I say, getting to my feet. She may recharge with meditation, but meanwhile, I have my eye on that minibar. Fun-sized candy bars, here I come!
11
Poppy
Is there anything better than taking an hour-long bubble bath in a hotel tub you won’t have to clean?
Taking said hour-long bubble bath while sipping complimentary rosé and snacking on candied nuts that aren’t going to cost me ten bucks at check-out time, that’s what.
By the time I swing by Jasmine’s cabin to pick her up for dinner, I’m rested and ready to figure out what, exactly, is the key to this woman’s heart.
“Wow.” I blink, as she emerges onto the porch in a flowing blue dress. I just threw on some jeans, but she’s dressed for a night on the red carpet. “Should I go change?”
Jasmine’s face falls. “You think it’s too much?” she asks, looking anxious.
“No!” I exclaim. “You look amazing. Seriously, don’t change a thing.”
Jasmine pulls on a drapey wrap thing, and we start walking over to the main lodge. “I never know what to wear,” she confesses. “Fashion just goes way over my head. It’s why I spend most of my time in workout gear. You can’t get yoga pants wrong.”
“Oh, believe me, you can. And I do,” I add, smiling. “I wore my last pair so often, they wore all the way through the butt. Not that I noticed, until some kind woman in the drugstore pointed out that I was wearing my Tuesday day-of-the-week panties on a Friday.”
Jasmine laughs. “If you want more, just let me know. A hundred different designers all send me their stuff, I have boxes of them back in the city.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I found the next level in comfort,” I confide. “Target does these super-soft rompers that they claim are pajamas, but I’m determined to prove them wrong.”
We arrive at the lodge and head on back, to where a gorgeous dining room opens up onto the back terrace with a view of the sunset lake. Tables are pushed together in long, camp-style rows, all decorated with fresh flowers and sparkling modern tableware.
“Jasmine!”
The room is already packed with guests, but Dylan immediately materializes beside us. He’s looking good—too good—in a rumpled linen button-down and his trademark dark jeans. And, of course, he only has eyes for one person. “Did you get settled in OK?” he asks. “I chose your cabin especially. I figured you’d want to be near the water, away from the rest of the group, but if it doesn’t work for you, just say the word, I’m happy to have you moved—”
“Dylan.” I put a hand on his arm to stop him babbling. “The cabins are great. Jasmine was just telling me how much she’s looking forward to doing sunrise yoga.”
Dylan blinks at me, looking surprised. “Oh, hi, Poppy. When did you arrive?”
“Hours ago,” I reply, trying not to laugh. I thought he might have got his act together since his last fumbling run-in with Jasmine, but clearly, all he needs to do is look at her to be reduced to this sweaty, nervous idiot. “Everything looks amazing. Relax,” I add, under my breath.
Dylan takes a deep breath. “I have you guys sitting with me,” he says, leading us over to one of the tables, where Lara and another couple are already seated. These two, at least, don’t look fit for the runway; they’re low-key like me in jeans and casual shirts. “Kyle and Sarah, Kyle is the general manager here,” Dylan says, introducing us. “Guys, meet Jasmine.”
“And Poppy,” I add with a wave.
“Welcome, come sit,” Sarah greets us, passing some menus. She’s got wavy brown hair, tied back in a colorful scarf, and a friendly smile. “We were just debating whether to get the steak or chowder.”
“Both,” I answer immediately. Sarah laughs.
“Now I know we’re going to get along.”
We get settled in, and I soon find out that they go way back with Dylan. “Are we talking ‘embarrassing baby photos’ way back, or ‘humiliating drunken frat boy stories’ way back?” I ask, grabbing some of the fresh-baked bread from the basket.
Kyle grins. “College, but don’t worry, there are still plenty of tales to tell.”
“Don’t listen to this guy,” Dylan interrupts. “I’m a paragon of virtue.”
Kyle snorts. “Sure thing, buddy. Tell that to the kangaroos.”
“The what now?” I blink.
Sarah gives me a wink. “Don’t worry. A few beers, and they’ll tell you everything.”
“I can’t wait.” I grin. “And also, I can’t wait for a refill, because this bread is amazing. Jasmine?” I nudge the basket in her direction, but she shakes her head.
“I can’t. I’m gluten-free, vegan,” she replies, upbeat, as she flags down a passing waiter. “Hi, can I please get a cup of hot water, with some lemon on the side?” She must see the looks of horror on our faces, because she laughs. “It’s great for detoxing your system.”
“I’ll stick with the toxins tonight, but thanks!” I say, raising my glass.
Soon, we’ve ordered half the menu and are deep in the delicious spread—and gossip, courtesy of my new BFF, Sarah.
“He’s really smitten, huh?” she says, nodding to where Dylan is introducing Jasmine to some other guests. “Kyle said he had it bad, but I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Seriously,” I agree. Then I pause, wondering if I need to be more careful about my job. “He told you why I was here, right?” I ask, casually.
Sarah smirks. “To turn him into some smooth-talking Romeo? Oh, absolutely. And you can bet I won’t let him hear the end of it.”
“It’s not like that,” I protest, feeling surprisingly defensive. “He just needs a little help finding the right words. We all do, sometimes.”
“And that’s where you come in?”
I nod. “Letters, speeches, anything you need. I’m your modern-day Cyrano.”
“That’s amazing.” Sarah grins. “I accepted a long time ago that Kyle doesn’t speak romance. But he does fix anything that needs fixing, and for our last anniversary, he built me a loom.”
“What are you saying? That’s totally romantic!” I exclaim. “The most important thing is to speak to someone in the language that matters most to them.”
“So what do you think about Jasmine?” Sarah asks, nodding to them. “Does Dylan speak her language?”
I pause. Jasmine is smiling along with the conversation, but she doesn’t look over the moon or anyth
ing. And meanwhile, Dylan is gazing at her like she’s the single most incredible woman he’s ever laid eyes on in his life.
“Maybe not right now,” I admit. “But I’m sure once we break the ice, they’ll find how much they have in common. Or maybe they don’t even need to,” I add. “After all, opposites attract, too!”
“Here’s hoping,” Sarah says. “I know he likes to act like a modern-day Hugh Hefner, but Dylan has a good heart. He deserves to be with someone great.”
“What was that you’ve been saying about me?” Dylan strolls back over to join us.
“Nothing good,” Sarah says, giving me a wink.
“Excellent.” Dylan steals some fries from my plate. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Sure you do. And will we get to see your skills on offer tonight?” I ask in an innocent voice. “Say, a dance routine to go with some of the karaoke?”
Dylan chokes and goes a curious shade of red. “I thought we agreed to pretend that night never happened,” he says, giving me a warning look.
Sarah looks back and forth between us. “What am I missing?” she asks, intrigued.
Oh, only a wild night of debauchery—and sexy makeout action.
The memory hits me in a flash of hot bodies and teasing tongues . . . I blush and shake my head.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly. That’s the last thing I should be thinking about right now! “So, what’s everyone’s standby song? Jasmine? Are you going to give us a number?”
She shakes her head. “Oh no, I can’t sing.”
“Neither can we,” Sarah speaks up. “That’s the fun of it!”
Everyone heads over to the bar area for the next part of the evening’s festivities, but Jasmine hangs back with me. “I might just go back to my cabin,” she says with a yawn.
“No!” I blurt. “I mean, stay for one song, or two. I’m going to need moral support if I’m going to make a fool of myself up there.”
Jasmine smiles. “OK, just for you,” she agrees, linking her arm through mine. “What are you going to sing?”
“I think the more important question is, what am I going to drink first?” I quip, leading us to the bar. “A mojito for me, and . . . You can make a mock-tail, right?” I ask the bartender.
