Trouble

by Samantha Towle

Page 7

 

  Where in the hell am I?

  All I’m seeing is nothing but road.

  And trees.

  And more road.

  Lots and lots of winding road, going up and up, taking me further into the mountains.

  I glance at my GPS checking the route. Yep, I’m definitely going the right way, and according to this, I should be there in a few minutes.

  Only I’m still seeing nothing, and I already passed two other hotels on my way up here. I’m really starting to regret not stopping at one of them. I’m sick of driving, and I don’t want to be staying in the middle of nowhere, but Beth from the diner did say it was the best hotel here, so on I go.

  A few minutes later I see a sign for Golden Oaks. Hallelujah! I actually do a little mini air-punch, I’m that relieved.

  I catch site of the hotel from the main road. It looks pretty, and the backdrop of the mountains makes it seem even prettier. I’d probably appreciate it a whole lot more if I weren’t so bone tired.

  I take the turn as directed, and pull onto a long driveway. Tires crunching over the gravel, I drive on until the foliage disappears and the hotel opens up in front of me.

  It’s smaller close up. Pretty. And totally perfect.

  I look around for designated parking, but there is none, so I pull up alongside an ostentatious red mustang which is parked on the grass just off the driveway. It looks like the type of car one of Forbes douchey friends would drive.

  Forbes.

  A shudder rolls through me at the mere thought of him. I’ve made sure not to think of him once in the past few days. Keeping my phone turned off has really helped with that.

  Grabbing my handbag off the passenger seat, I get out of my car, and stretch out again. My body feels as if it’s seizing up. I just need to lie down on a soft mattress for a very long time. I’m really hoping the beds here are comfy because the last two motel beds have been horrendous.

  Moving around my car, I pop the trunk and get my bag out.

  The first thing I notice about this place is how quiet it is. Nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the background. Peaceful.

  And perfect.

  This place is starting to feel pretty close to heaven right now.

  As I walk past the Mustang, I glance down at it and see that it has flames painted along the side.

  Oh my god. This car is a definite penis enhancer if ever I saw one. I let out a snort of laughter and cover my hand with my mouth.

  Stopping at the walkway leading up to the reception, I take a look around.

  The hotel is a large wooden cabin style hotel, set on stilts which run down one side where the hill rolls down into what looks to be huge grounds. As I glance down, I see the building also goes down the side where the stilts round it. Maybe that’s where the owners live. Large windows reflect out onto a wrap around porch up top. Lanterns light the front, giving it a warm glow, and there is a pretty garden at the bottom by the walkway up to the hotel. As I move toward it, the fragrance from the wide mixture of plants invades my senses. I stop and inhale deeply, letting out a contented sigh.

  I walk up the steps and onto the porch toward the reception so I can get checked into this place.

  A bell tinkles when I push the door open. I step inside and find the place deserted.

  It’s just as pretty in here as it is outside. A dark oak reception desk is situated directly in front of me. To my left is an open sitting room complete with huge unlit fireplace, and there are three plush sofas situated around the room.

  It looks so homey. I have a good feeling about this place.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” I call out.

  I don’t hear anything for a moment, but then I hear, what sounds like an elephant bounding up stairs.

  Then, quite literally, the epitome of everything a girl like me should stay away from walks through the door directly behind the reception desk.

  Lean. Tall. Tattooed – one of them covering the full of his arm. Dark brown hair, long, but not ponytail long; surfer boy long and hanging in his eyes.

  Taking me in, he sweeps his hair back revealing eyes the color of maple syrup. I have the sudden urge to eat pancakes.

  This guy is gorgeous.

  Masculine…

  Strong jawline…

  Everything about him screams male.

  He looks like sin.

  Like hot, dirty, incredible sex.

  Jesus Christ! Where did that come from? I never think of men and sex—or sex with men—in that way.

  I realize I’m staring at him, so I open my mouth and speak.

  “Hello. ” I moisten my dry lips with my tongue.

  Tattooed Adonis says nothing.

  He stares at me like I’m an alien who just landed on this planet – like he’s not quite sure what to do with me, or why I’m here.

  Maybe I made a mistake coming here. Maybe they’re closed for the season, and Beth got it wrong.

  I’m ready to back up and leave when he speaks. His voice is as deep and manly as I’d expect it to be. It sends shivers coursing over my skin.

  “How can I help?” he asks.

  How can he help? This is a hotel, right? I’m tempted to step back outside and check the sign again.

  “I, uh, need a room. ” I move closer to the counter. “Beth, the girl at the diner in town? She sent me here. Said you’d have a room available. ”

  He stares at me for a long moment. I’m just starting to wonder if I’ve got something on my face, when I see he’s actually staring at my sunglasses. He’s probably wondering why I’m wearing them at night. Well, rather this than have him staring at my black eye.

  He looks down at the desk in front of him. “We do. How long do you want to stay for?”

  I almost sigh in relief that they’ve got availability. The last thing I want to do is get back in my car.

  How long do I want to stay for?

  “Um…” It’s my turn to look down. I shift on my feet, thinking.

  I need a while to give me time to find my mother. And if I do find her, then I’ll need time with her.

  If she wants to see me that is.

  I wonder how long they rent rooms for. Looking up, I say, “I’m not sure … two weeks?”

  “Are you asking or telling me?”

  Wow. Okay. He might be good-looking, but he’s not very nice. But what do I expect? Forbes is handsome—more in a classic way than this guy here—and he’s the biggest asshole of all.

  Pulling on my lower lip with my finger, I swallow, then fold my arms over my chest, and steel my voice. “I want to stay for two weeks, and I’m asking if you have a room available for that long?”

  He looks down at the booking sheet, then looks up. His eyes flicker past me before coming back to my face. “We do. It’s one hundred and seventy five a night. ”

  It’s certainly a lot more expensive than the last two motels I’ve stayed at, but it’s far nicer, and it’s not like I can’t afford it, courtesy of Oliver’s tainted money. And honestly, right now I’d pay anything to be able to sleep in a comfy bed.

  “That’s fine,” I say.

  He gives me a narrowed look, then draws a line across the book in front of him. He reaches into a drawer, returning with a sheet of paper which he slides across the desk and puts a pen beside it. “Fill this out with your name and home address. ”

  I pick up the pen.

  Should I put an incorrect address like I did at the last two places I stayed? I don’t want a trace back to me in case Forbes is looking for me. And tied together with my name, he’d know it was me that has been here.

  But then I’m not staying just one night like those other places. And it would look suspicious if I lie about where I live, and this guy finds out.

  I decide to go with the truth and write my real home address and cell phone number down. Forbes won’t be looking for me way out here. I’m half-way across the country. Two t
housand miles from home.

  When I’m done, I hand the form back to him. My fingers accidentally touch his. Warm, rough fingers. Yet gentle. They feel good.

  Deceptive.

  Because men’s hands cause pain. They give hard, sharp slaps. They give black eyes. Grabbing, clutching, never-ending pain…

  I pull my hand back quickly and wrap it into my other.

  Face prickling, I look into the living area, imagining the fireplace lit. I can almost feel the warmth on my face if I just close my eyes.

  “I just need your card details and we’re done. Your card won’t be charged until you check out. ” Tattooed Adonis’ voice snaps me back to the now.

  “Okay. ”

  I get my card from my purse. I hold it out for him to take, but he ignores me and instead starts fussing with one of those card devices. Then he hands it to me without casting a glance my way.

  “Put your card in…”

  I do as asked.

  “And now your PIN. ”

  When I’m done, he takes the device back from me, eyes still off somewhere else.

  I watch him with interest as he stares at the little electronic gadget.

  He really is gorgeous. The more I look at him, the more handsome he becomes. I have never seen someone who is as physically attractive as this guy.

  I bet he has women tripping over themselves to be with him. And I think he knows exactly how good-looking he is. I can see it in the confident tilt of his stance, and the air of indifference he exudes.

  He removes my card from the machine, then hands it back to me. I slide it in my back pocket.

  I see him get a key from a hook on the wall.

  He steps out from behind the counter. “This way. ”

  I reach down to grab my bags, and with much effort, hoist them to my shoulder.

  They feel way heavier than they did five minutes ago. Must be knowing I’m one step closer to a bed … one step closer to sleep, that has really set the fatigue in.

  “Here let me get those for you,” Tattooed Adonis says, his hand reached out toward me.

  Is he being nice to me? Why?

  He wasn’t being nice a few minutes ago, and he has barely given me a glance. And in my experience, men are only nice when they want something. I have nothing to give this guy.

  Retracting his hand, he scratches his head and frowns at me. “It’s my job to carry your bags. We’re not the kind of establishment that has a bellboy,” he says, then grins. A boyish kind of grin.

  Oh, right. Stupid Mia.

  I lift the bags from my shoulder and hand them to him. My body sighs in relief. “Thank you. ” I smile.

  A weird look passes over his face, then he frowns again. Slinging my bags over his shoulder, he strides off down the hall.

  Okay, mood swing much? Nice one minute, moody the next. But then, aren’t all men like that? Some more than others.

  I’m practically jogging to catch up with him, then Tattooed Adonis comes to an abrupt stop outside a door half-way down the hall. I have to catch myself from running into the back of him. He unlocks the door and goes in the room, turning the light on, and setting my bags on the bed.

  I try to step inside the room, but I can’t. My muscles are frozen.

  Being out there alone in the reception with him was okay because it’s a public place. But this … I can’t walk into this room alone with him. He could trap me.

  The lock clicks.

  I turn around.

  Oliver is dangling the key from his hand. His belt in the other.