by Tabatha Kiss
“He’s right, you know,” she says.
“Who’s right about what?”
“Dylan.”
I reach for my wineglass. “Oh.”
“I don’t like you working at that place, either,” she says. “It’s in a horrible neighborhood. And that car of yours barely runs. You could get stranded in the middle of the night. What then?”
I shrug. “Then, I’ll ride my bike. Or call a cab.”
She visibly shudders. Yes, Mother. A cab. Or, God forbid, the bus. Like a commoner.
“I don’t see why you won’t give Dylan a chance, honey,” she says. “He’s a good man. He’ll take care of you.”
One of these days, I tell myself.
One of these days, I’ll have the courage to say what I’m really thinking whenever my mother starts in like this; just like she does every year at this damn stupid reunion.
Stop treating me like a child.
Stop trying to control my life.
Just stop.
I feign a smile and rely on my usual lie. “I have a boyfriend, Mom,” I say. “Remember?”
She doesn’t even try to hide her disappointment. “Yes, Pen. You have a new boyfriend every time I see you. Let me ask you something. How many of these boyfriends have stuck around long enough to attend a second family reunion? And how many has Dylan been to over the years?”
I frown.
You know, if I actually gave two shits about this then I’d have to admit she has a point. I can only imagine what kind of train wreck my love life must look like from the outside. It’s not so bad on the inside, though. My life is nice and quiet — just how I like it.
I’m not the type of girl who sits around pining for a man to appear and sweep her off her feet. I don’t need—
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
I turn in my chair and freeze.
Holy… suit.
Hayden Botsford stands behind me wearing a black suit and tie, a stark contrast to the casual look I met him in before. His dark hair is washed and simply styled back behind his ears. His chin stubble has vanished, leaving nothing but a freshly-shaved face with sharp cheekbones and deep dimples.
I gulp.
“No, you’re—” My voice cracks. “You’re not interrupting anything at all.”
He smiles and my toes quiver. Good God, how many dimples does this man have?!
My breath catches as he leans down and plants a soft kiss on my brow. I lock in place, unable to move an inch. Feeling his lips on me for the second time…
If it happens a third time, I just might turn into a puddle and die.
“Hayden!” My father gives him a welcoming grin from across the table. “Hello, young man. It’s good to see you again.”
Hayden dips his head in respect. “You, too, Mr. Warren.” He gestures around the table. “My apologies. I don’t mean to intrude on your family dinner. I just saw Penelope across the room and…” He chuckles and gazes at me again. “What can I say? She’s like a magnet.”
My chest flutters. Is he serious? Or is he just acting like before?
“Nonsense!” my father says. “You’re more than welcome. Pull up a chair, Hayden.”
“Trey…” My mother shifts her hidden ire toward him instead. “We only reserved thirty chairs.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Mary Lou, it’s a Botsford Plaza. There’s always room at the table for a Botsford!” He gestures to the empty chair beside me. “Sit down, please, Hayden. I insist.”
Hayden grins and instantly pulls the chair out. “Well, if you insist, sir,” he says.
As he sits down, his hand gently touches my shoulder and glides down my arm toward my wrist in my lap. He does it so casually; like he’s touched me this way a hundred times before tonight. Just a daily habit of warmth and comfort. I try to maintain composure as my heart slams into my ribs.
“So, Penelope tells us you’re a ballplayer,” my father says.
Hayden nods. “Yes, sir. Going on ten years now.”
“That’s interesting.” My mother glowers. “I thought you said you worked here at the hotel?” she asks.
I stiffen but Hayden laughs it off.
“Not quite but I like to help out whenever I can,” he says. “I’m home on medical leave right now, nursing a little knee injury, but I’ll be back on the field soon enough.”
“Nothing too serious, I hope,” my father says, glancing at me. “You’re not riding him too hard, are you?”
I choke on my own spit. “Dad—!”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” he says, waving a hand. “You’re always on your feet, going on hikes and riding your bike. She’s not dragging you around with her, is she? I can’t imagine keeping up with her — especially injured.”
Hayden laughs, his hand still grazing mine beneath the table. “She’s quite the challenge, I won’t lie. But no, sir. If anything, I wouldn’t have gotten through this time without her. She…” He looks at me again, his gaze soft and warm. “Penny takes care of me.”
Here lies Penelope.
She’s one with the puddles now.
My father knocks twice on the table. “Good to hear!”
A hostess appears over his shoulder with the check. As he turns to talk to her, Hayden leans in to whisper in my ear.
“How am I doing?” he asks.
I chuckle, barely breathing. “I don’t know. I think you could turn up the charm just a tad.”
He eyes my father. “Well, maybe this will make up for it…”
“Twenty-percent off?” my father says, his brow pinching. “What’s this about?”
The hostess smiles. “Courtesy of Mr. Botsford, sir,” she says before walking away.
I stare at Hayden. He winks at me.
Drip drip drip.
My father gapes as if Hayden just asked him to dance at the prom. “You didn’t have to do that, Hayden!” he says.
Hayden waves a hand. “Why even bother having a friends and family discount if we don’t use it?” he asks.
“Thank you very much, young man. I appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir.”
His thumb slides along the back of my hand again, triggering a trail of butterflies to dance up to my shoulder blades. Even my mother’s expression softens a bit, though I don’t think she’s quite as smitten as my father is yet.
A throat clears over our shoulders and I turn to find Dylan lingering behind us.
“Oh, I’m sorry, bro,” Hayden says. “Am I in your seat?”
I bite my lip to keep from grinning.
“Yes, you are,” Dylan says, his hands obviously rolled in tight fists within his pockets.
My mother tilts her head up in concern. “Is everything all right with your mother, dear?” she asks Dylan.
“She’s fine,” he answers. “Strangely, she had hung up by the time I reached the front desk but when I called her back, she said she had never called me at all…”
Hayden smirks. “Wow. That is strange.”
He flashes me another sly wink and I will my smile to stay down.
“Well, I won’t crash your party any longer.” Hayden rises from his chair. “I just wanted to stop in, say hello again, and…” I shudder beneath the weight of his eyes, “bid Penelope a good night.”
“You can crash our party anytime,” my father says, raising his glass. “You’re always welcome, Hayden.”
“Yes,” my mother smiles and… I think she might actually mean it. “Do stop by again before the weekend is over.”
“We’re hitting the casinos tomorrow! Wish us luck!”
Hayden laughs and gives the table a bow. “Good luck. And enjoy the rest of your dinner. Try the tiramisu. It’s amazing.”
He steps to the side, allowing for Dylan to slink back into his chair, and places a smooth hand on my shoulder. Blooms of warmth echo throughout my body again as he leans down and extends his other hand toward me. My arm moves on its own, gladly allowing his fingers
to slip around mine.
To my surprise, he tilts the back of my hand upward and brings it to his lips. If weren’t already frozen in shock, my jaw would easily drop into my lap.
“Goodnight, Penelope,” he says before kissing the back of my hand.
I tremble with delight. "Goodnight, Hayden."
He releases my hand, casually slipping a folded piece of paper into my palm.
I drop my hand into my lap as he straightens up and walks away. Trudy waves him goodbye and blinks at me with envious eyes while Dylan settles even deeper into his silent, unnerving glare.
I keep it cool, waiting until Dylan inevitably forces my father into some boring stock market conversation again before looking down into my lap and unfolding the note.
Roof. ASAP. 4742.
I casually look around but Hayden's long gone.
Six
Penelope
I pause on the elevator as I stare at the wall of numbers leading all the way up to the top. This hotel only has thirty floors, so the number on Hayden’s note obviously isn’t a room number. There’s only one button above 30 on the wall and that reads POOL.
I tap it and the elevator doors slide closed. As I ascend, I rest my back against the golden wall and close my eyes to reflect on my day so far.
It started out like any other day, really. I woke up, happy to get the weekend off, but also dreading that I had to use my precious vacation days on my family reunion. Not the end of the world at all… until my strictly-platonic guy friend I was going to use as my date up and canceled on me at the last minute.
Then, it was a cataclysmic freak-out from Los Angeles to Vegas, endlessly wracking my brain for miles to figure out how I was going to dodge Dylan McCoy.
And that’s when I saw Hayden. Just a normal-looking dude.
Or so I thought.
The elevator slows to a stop at the top of the golden tower. It opens on a small passage leading to an opaque, glass door. About a dozen small lockers line each wall, along with several shelves of fresh towels stacked up by the far end.
I stop in front of the door and turn the knob, but it’s locked. A sign on the wall to the right lists the pool hours... and it’s very much closed at the moment.
Why would Hayden tell me to come up here if it’s closed?
I eye the keypad on the wall by the door and my brow rises.
4-7-4-2, I tap in.
The lock clicks open. I push on the door and my nose pleasantly twitches from the mix of chlorine and desert sky as I take a few steps out onto the roof.
Lights along the concrete illuminate the paths around the uncovered pool, guiding me toward various sitting areas and stopping at the tall safety fence surrounding the edge of the tower. The water shimmers thanks to the lights beneath the surface. They switch every few seconds, changing from blue to green to purple and back again.
“Marco?” I ask the open air.
“Polo.”
I spin toward his voice, quickly finding Hayden sitting on a bench in the corner against the fence.
“Wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says, smiling.
“Wasn’t aware I had a choice,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Generally, when a billionaire tells you to do something... ya do it.”
Hayden chuckles and pushes off the bench to stand. “I’m not that kind of billionaire.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask.
“I just figured you’d like a little time away from Dillweed.”
“You mean Dylan?”
His brow pinches. “Why? What’d I say?”
I snort as he slowly strides in my direction. “Either way, you’d be right. Not a lot of places to hide from him around here, unfortunately.”
“Unless you know the staff-only pool code and can sneak up onto the roof after hours,” he says. “You’re welcome.”
“Much appreciated. Thank you.”
Hayden stops in front of me with his hands in his pockets, softly gazing at me as the city life echoes up from the streets below us.
“I’m Hayden Botsford, by the way.”
I laugh, looking down to hide the rouge in my cheeks. “Penelope Warren.”
“We didn’t get the chance for a proper intro yet.”
“Just wasn’t enough time.” I bite my lip. “So, what kind of billionaire are you then?” I ask.
“Eh...” He shrugs. “One who’d rather not even acknowledge it most of the time. I don’t exactly do much to contribute to my family’s ever-growing enterprise.”
“You play baseball instead,” I say with a nod.
“That I do.”
“And help out around here whenever you can,” I quote.
He smiles. “That part is a little less true but it sounds plausible enough.”
“They seemed to buy it just fine. Though, I suspect that discount did most of the legwork for you.” I squint at his smug face. “Why did you do that?”
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t part of our deal.”
“It cost me nothing and it made you look good. Seemed like the right thing to do. Do you like champagne?”
I blink as he suddenly walks back over to where he was sitting before. He bends down and grabs an ice bucket off the roof with a champagne bottle nestled inside.
“Uh... yeah,” I answer. “When the occasion calls for it.”
“With a view like this, I’d say it does,” he says.
I take the moment to ease closer to the fence as he pours two glasses. “It is really nice up here...” I smile at the vast canvas of flashing lights. “Never seen Vegas from this angle before.”
“You’ve never been up here?” he asks. “Your family comes here every year.”
I pause as he hands me an old-fashioned glass full of champagne.
“Sorry,” he says, raising his own. “I was in a hurry and couldn’t remember where to find the flutes...”
“How did you know my family comes here every year?” I ask. “Who are you really? Am I in danger?”
Hayden laughs. “No, Penny. Do you mind if I call you Penny?”
I take a cautious step back and he smiles.
“I snuck behind the front desk and checked your family’s reservation,” he says. “Saw the guest history right there.”
“Why’d you do that?” I ask.
“Because I was curious.”
“Curious about what?”
“You.”
My stomach flutters. “What’s so special about me?”
“Well, it’s not every day some random beautiful woman walks up to me and asks me to pretend to be her boyfriend. Needless to say, I was intrigued.”
Random beautiful woman?
I gulp. “Really?”
Hayden gestures to the bench and takes a seat, leaving ample space for me to comfortably join him but I linger back for another moment. “Is that something you do a lot?” he asks. “Ask men to fawn over you while Dylan sits and stews?”
I nod as I step forward and lower onto the bench beside him. “Unfortunately,” I say. “I usually have a guy friend lined up to bring with me but he canceled on me at the last minute this year. Had to improvise.”
“You couldn’t have just... not shown up?”
I laugh. “I couldn’t do that.”
He smirks. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people that actually likes their extended family.”
“They have their moments and my cousins are pretty cool. I don’t see them much.” I bring my glass to my lips, taking a quick whiff of it before swallowing a sip. “Actually, I didn’t cancel because I really like this hotel. The few days I get to spend here every year — for free, thanks to my Mom’s very wealthy family — is one of the only escapes I get.”
“Escape from what?”
“The daily grind and... what-have-you.” I shrug. “Life is just different out here in the desert. What happens here stays here. No one takes anything too seriously. It’s a nice change of pace.”
H
ayden nods. “I can see that.”
I look at him, feeling the tickle of bubbles still caught in my throat. “I’m sorry I got you involved in my crazy family drama,” I say. “If I had known who you really were, I never would have—”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says over me. “I didn’t have anything else going on anyway.”
My eyes drop to his legs. “Just a knee injury?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. I’m not allowed anywhere near the field for another month.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Physically, it could be worse. Mentally…” He shakes his head. “I might be losing my mind a little.”
“Going stir-crazy?”
“Very. Let’s just say you showed up at just the right time to stop me from dying of boredom.”
I laugh. “How can you get bored in Las Vegas?”
“Being born and raised here is a decent start,” he answers. “I couldn’t wait to get out of here when I was a kid. High-tailed it out of here the first chance I got.”
“Then, what are you doing here now?” I ask.
He pats his left thigh. “Well, I can’t play and rather than warm the bench in the dugout for half the season, I came here to try and relax and re-cooperate. I mean, I get all my meals cooked and delivered to my room. People clean up after me. The towels are way better than mine, too.”
I nod. “Sounds pretty nice.”
He smiles. “It is.”
Dimples for days.
I turn my head away to stop myself from staring at him for too long. I watch the lights dance on the strip for a few seconds, locked in thoughts that scream even louder than the city below us.
What is even happening here?
Did he really just ask me up here to help me get away from Dylan and my crazy family?
If so, is it possible he’d… help me some more?
No. He’s done so much already. I can’t ask him to keep this up.
Or can I?
“So…” I clear my throat. “Since you…”
Hayden looks at me. “Since I…?”
“You said you were bored and everything, so…” I glance up, catching the amusement in his eyes. “Do you think you could…?”
“Keep pretending to be your boyfriend?” he finishes.
