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I’ve written enough of these scenes—from the book that hit it big and a few rejected manuscripts before it—to know this tension. This will-they-or-won’t-they, what-comes-next tension.
“You could come over then. We could hang out in the suite. Spend time with Nancy and Gram.”
“Sure,” he says. “That sounds nice.” He cuts his training run short and I follow him back to his room, lingering while he showers.
He comes out, a towel wrapped low around his waist. We might need to find a place with a giant walk-in shower so we can have shower sex, because his body looks incredible wet. A sliver of his tattoo teases me from his towel, and I see a peak of black ink.
It’s a good thing I’m across the room, because all I want to do is undo the towel and get an up-close view of this mystery art. “Have I proved myself worthy of seeing the tattoo yet?”
He grins and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re getting there.”
“Maybe later?”
“Definitely later. If you want, I mean.” He pulls a T-shirt over his head and disappears into the bathroom with shorts, reemerging a few moments later fully dressed. “You ready?”
“Very.”
He smiles again and reaches a hand toward me. When our skin connects he pulls me into him and kisses my mouth with restrained urgency. It’s different: yearning and sobering and knowing and familiar. I wish we could change all the clocks and fast forward to tonight. But then he brushes a thumb against my cheek and looks at me with his melty chocolate eyes, and I’m glad we have all day to be together.
He grabs a few items and opens the door to leave, but we’re greeted by a couple standing outside Nancy’s door. Sawyer eyes them, confused.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
The woman in the hallway gapes at him, not even trying to hide her lust. I might be jealous if it weren’t for the fact that Sawyer has demonstrated multiple times in the last few days that he’s uninterested in the other women who’ve made their attraction known to him. I also get it. He’s objectively hot, and I can’t fault other people for recognizing it.
People, because this guy in the hallway swallows hard when he lets his gaze drop over Sawyer’s frame. “We, uh. We’re just trying to see if anyone’s in here,” he says.
“What for?” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Did she con you in the pool hall? I swear, this lady’s a shark.” The couple steps back as Sawyer advances to knock on Nancy’s carefully decorated door. “Gwen, never let my grandmother talk you into pool, spades, or drinking games. She’s a little devil sometimes.”
“Sorry, man. Did you say ‘grandmother’?”
Sawyer looks from the man’s face to the woman’s, and then the man and woman look at each other, faces twisted in matching grimaces. “Yeah…” he drawls.
“Must be some confusion then,” the woman says. She wraps her arms around the man’s elbow and starts tugging him away, but not without one last long look at Sawyer.
“Sorry to have bothered you,” the man adds, and they take off power-walking down the hall.
Sawyer looks more confused than ever as he turns toward me. “I’m going to need you to give them the people-watching treatment for me, Gwen. Help me understand what just happened here.”
I bite my lip. I’m slightly horrified, but I’m also holding back laughter. I peel a few of Nancy’s decorations from her door, including a pineapple that someone must have inverted as a prank. “No worries. I’ll explain on the way.”
Sawyer
“Oh, good. You’re here.” The suite door slams behind me, and Nan and Maggie look up from their seats on the couch at the sound.
“Hi, Sweetheart,” Nan greets me. “Where else would I be on such a gloomy day?”
“Thankfully, not in your room.” I drop the stack of magnets onto the coffee table.
“You had some visitors,” Gwen offers, and if this was anyone else’s grandma I’d laugh. But this is my grandmother, and ew.
“Why did you take down my decorations?” Nan asks, eyeing me suspiciously. “Didn’t you like them? I thought they were nice. Pineapples are a sign of hospitality and welcoming.”
“Oh, they were welcoming, alright,” I snort. Gwen wraps her fingers gently around my bicep and nudges me aside.
“Nancy, on a cruise ship, certain… imagery… carries certain meaning.”
Nan looks at Gwen, then at me, then back at Gwen, who now looks as uncomfortable as I feel. Maggie starts laughing, and Nan’s eyes land on her.
