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“Good morning.”
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Six thirty.”
“You must be a morning person.”
“Not really. Usually, I’m just getting to sleep about now.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. I was thinking maybe we should get your dog before my brother checks out. I’m assuming you have a key.”
“Yes.”
“Who’s caring for the dog?”
“We hired a dog sitter.”
“Will they be there?”
I shake my head. “She’s just supposed to check in to walk her and feed her.” He’s right about Elliott. I need to go before he gets up and goes home. Pushing the covers off, I stand and stretch, yawning. When my eyes open, I see Dylan’s gaze on my breasts, and I drop my arms, and clear my throat. “Give me twenty minutes.”
“Sure. You want some coffee?”
“Maybe later.” I grab my bag and scramble to the bathroom.
When I come out Dylan is zipping up his suitcase.
“There’s a coffee for you. I didn’t know how you liked it, so I left it black.”
“Thanks.”
“You ready?”
“Yes.” I pick up the cup, and we exit the room.
Stepping out of the elevator and into the lobby, my gaze darts around and there’s a lump in the pit of my stomach. The last thing I want to do is run into anyone, especially my parents who would be the most likely to be up early and perhaps getting breakfast in the restaurant.
As we pass the archway leading to it, I duck to Dylan’s other side, hiding behind him, just in case. He gives me a side eyed glance, but other than that, keeps walking. We step outside.
It’s foggy this morning with gray overcast skies.
“My rental is parked over here.” He nods to the side lot, and I follow. He leads me to a big shiny new pickup truck with a crew cab.
“All this just to get from the airport to the hotel?”
“It was all they had left.” He opens the back door and tosses our bags inside, then holds the front passenger door open for me.
I climb inside and wait as he rounds the front hood. The seats are plush leather and super comfortable. The truck shifts with his weight as he climbs inside, then starts the engine.
Lowering the volume on the music coming from the speakers, he pulls his phone out. “What’s the address?”
I reel it off, and he puts it in his map app, and then we’re on our way.
He wheels his arm around in a circle, steering the truck out onto the road, then glances over at me. “You got a vehicle there?”
“At Elliott’s? Yes.”
