23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
E mma
I freeze at Declan's question, feeling caught and cut open, like my most vulnerable parts have been exposed. Biting my lips, I immediately tear my eyes away from his.
I don’t know what to say in response, or how to control my reaction. I try to laugh it off, although the laugh sounds forced and piercing to my ears.
"Of course, I do," I say, waving my hands. "I want to go home. I just realized that...you know, you might have to help Amelia unpack later. So I wanted to lighten your load a little. Plus, it's still early. If you want some dessert, I know an ice cream place around the corner from here. Or I can show you where to get dinner later if Amelia wakes up."
"Ah." He nods and a little smile appears at the corner of his lips. "So you're trying to ask me out on a date? Is that it?"
"No," I shake my head, my laugh even more forced and high-pitched.
He takes a few steps to me, shaking his head as he tucks his index finger under my chin, moving it up until our eyes lock.
In the dim orange lighting of the living room, his pupils look like inky wells rimmed by an odd color I can never put my finger on. And I think they’re flecks of gold in there too. I don’t know why I never realized that before.
Nor did I realize just how angular his cheekbones were, how plump those lips were, surrounded by that beard.
Greek God doesn't even fully describe it.
His face is a work of art.
"Are you drooling?"
His gentle question has me catching myself and my face flushes when I realize that there really is moisture on the corner of my lips.
Damn.
How embarrassing.
I try to back away and wipe it, but he prevents it with an arm around my waist before he leans in to lick the corner of my lips.
"No. I like it," he murmurs as he backs away. Even that quick touch scrambles my senses. "You make me drool too."
"Um…" Now what on earth do I say to that? There’s nothing to say. I can only blink at him and stare into his eyes like a lovesick puppy. Which I’m doing again. Damn.
One hand comes up and caresses my cheek, and my stomach does flip-flops again. With desire, yes, but also something softer, gentler, and all the more scary.
His actions are tripping me up. The hot sex, I understand, but the tenderness of his gaze, I don’t know where that comes from or what that means.
And I don’t want to read too much into it, can’t read too much into it.
The last time I thought a man had feelings for me…it didn’t turn out too well.
And as Grandpa says, " Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice..."
"Are you ready to be honest with me now?"
I'm so lost in his eyes that I don’t even know what he’s talking about. "Honest?"
"About the real reason you don’t want to go back home?"
I jerk suddenly, recalling and attempting to back away, but his arms don’t leave my waist, and he continues his gentle caresses as if trying to soothe my jumpiness.
"It’s okay," he murmurs as he stares down at me. "You can tell me. I won’t judge you."
I shake my head, staring at his collarbone, telling myself I'm not scared of his judgment. Except I am, and if he knew the whole story he would definitely judge me.
"It’s difficult being at home alone, isn’t it?" he says, hitting the nail right on the head. A glance exposes the knowing look in his gaze, even as I stubbornly refuse to meet his eyes after it. No matter which way he steers my head, I turn my eyeballs to avoid looking into his.
Finally, he chuckles, and says, "Alright. You leave me no choice."
"No choice but to what?" my infernal curiosity makes me ask.
"You’re not going home," he says, and finally releases me tucking his hands into his pocket as though trying very hard to keep them there. "You’ll stay here with me."
My mind swims. A bunch of different images pop into my head, most of them including tangled sheets, sweaty limbs reaching for each other, lips on the neck, inside thighs, on ….
"There’s a spare room," he continues diverting my dirty thoughts. He points in the corner. "Down that hallway. I sometimes use the space as a study, but there’s a bed in there too. I’ll sleep there. You can take my bedroom."
"Oh." I blush when I realize that I automatically assumed when he said, "stay over" that we would be sleeping in the same bed. How ridiculous. "No, that's alright. I don’t want to put you out."
"It’s not putting me out," he says and beckons for me to follow him around the corner and down the hall, to another intricately decorated door at the end of it. Next to it is a bathroom with the door open.
Declan pushes open the first door and gestures inside. "See? It has everything I would need."
I follow his gaze, walking closer to look into the room.
The room does look nice, with a mahogany desk that Grandpa would fawn over and a brown leather upholstered platform bed with a cashmere earth-toned duvet.
The rest of the room has the same wooden luxury lodge aesthetic as the rest of the suite, with a carved-edge window next to the bed that overlooks the lake in the distance.
I can even see the Tiki Bar from here.
I can tell Declan spends a lot of time in here because the room smells like him. Like leather, cologne, and wood.
"So I can sleep in here," Declan says and backs back out of the door. I follow him back to the living room, and he heads to the door opposite the one Amelia walked into. He pushes that door open. "And you can sleep here."
Once I get close enough to see into the room, I gape. I thought the other room was nice, but this one is exquisite. It’s about twice the size of the other room, with a huge king-size platform upholstered bed, covered with similar soft-looking sheets.
Instead of the dark mahogany of the other room, the wood here is a soft cream, and there’s a door in the corner leading to a walk-in closet. The window over the bed is even larger with an even more beautiful view, showing the lights dotting across town and leading into the green forests.
"That other door leads to a private bathroom," he continues, stepping in and opening up another door. The bathroom is alabaster white, perfect tiles and a pristine bathtub shower combo.
The frosted glass shower door is completely clean, without a hint of suds, as it has never been used. Even the metal looks new. It also smells like lavender, a delicate scent that feels like it's enticing me into the bath.
"The shower dials take a bit of getting used to," he continues. "But I’ve pretty much set it up so all you have to do is twist that thing to the left for hot water, and then to the right if you want it a little colder.
I gape, unable to believe this, and shake my head.
"The maid cleans everything every day, so you don’t have to worry about my germs lying around."
"I’m not worried about that. I like your germs." I utter a sharp intake of breath at the realization of what I just said, then cover it up with a quick "But I can’t stay here. I don’t want to inconvenience you."
"Like I already said, it’s not an inconvenience. Seriously. You can stay for as long as you like. Or at least as long as your Grandpa is still in the hospital."
"No, Declan I really can't. I mean what would Amelia think?"
"She’ll think that you're going through a tough time, probably need to be around people, and so you slept over. It’s either that, or I get you a separate hotel room, like I did for Sandy, but I don’t think that would solve your problem."
And his knowing gaze shows that he thinks he understands what I'm going through. Although, he doesn’t fully understand my pain.
Because I haven't told anyone, not even my Grandpa what I'm really scared of.
Declan probably thinks this is solely about missing my Grandpa and not wanting to be at home without him. And while it is partially about that, it’s more so about the inherent fear that plagues me when I hear the wind beat at the window, or the door hinges creak, or even the cricket chirp outside. All those sounds are magnified because my ears are always on high alert, listening for something else.
Something more menacing.
I couldn’t sleep all of last night. I kept my ears and eyes open, staring at the ceiling, every horror movie I'd ever watched playing in my mind. And now that I'm grown, I know these are not just childish fears.
There really are monsters out there.
Ironically, I longed to be back on that dirty mattress with Declan again, with the storm raging outside. It was the safest I could remember feeling in a while.
I tried to imagine his arms around me to help me sleep but it was no use.
But here he is now, offering me a way out. My pride won't let me simply accept it though.
"I can’t stay in this room," I say. "Let me at least take the smaller one."
Declan shrugs. "I prefer the other room. It has a desk and that’s crucial for my work."
"Oh." I bite my lip and think about it. Stay here, or go back home and face the daunting silence again?
As much as my pride wants me to play the brave, common sense kicks in. I say, "Alright. I’ll stay."
The next morning, Amelia doesn’t even mention the fact that I slept over. I wake up sometime around 8:00 a.m. and we meet at the kitchen island where a room service platter awaits me with an assortment of breakfast foods like eggs, bacon, waffles, pancakes, grapes, berries, and more.
I shoot a shy smile to Declan, who is leaning against the opposite counter sipping coffee. He's already in his suit and watches me closely as I avoid his gaze.
I'm still wearing my clothes from yesterday, but when he looks at me like that, I feel naked.
"What's up, Amelia?" I ask, as I take a plate and place some eggs and berries onto it.
She doesn't respond to me, but she's staring at an iPad and muttering under her breath.
"Online school," Declan tells me. "She couldn't start her biology paper in Paris, because of all the chaos, so now she's behind."
"Oh."
Amelia mutters something else and taps the iPad, glaring at the screen.
Declan smirks. "Sandy'll be here soon."
"Okay, but I can hang out with her too if you want. My shift at the Tiki Bar doesn’t start till the afternoon."
Declan shakes his head. "I need you to help me out with something else today."
"What?"
"You’ll see." His eyes flicker down to my ankle.
"It doesn’t hurt," I tell him before he can ask, leaning on the ankle to prove a point. "Really. It only stings when I twist it a certain way."
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but he nods and checks his watch. "Get ready. We'll leave in like thirty minutes."
I nod and finish wolfing down my food. I have just enough time to shower and change into Declan's smallest sweatpants (which I still have to belt around my waist) before we head out again.
Declan finally lets me in on the secret on the way to the Pink Hotel. I enjoy the scenery while he talks.
"The renovation will be starting soon," he says. "I chose to subcontract Atlas Construction for it. They seem to have experience with these styles of building, and my usual team is busy with other things.”
“You mean Hal’s company?”
“Yes. But I also want you to help them."
"Me?"
"Yes. You know the hotel better than anyone, and you have the experience of understanding its most charming elements. Stuff we need to preserve and what we need to change. I want you to relay that to the contractors. You can even tell them some of your Grandpa's stories."
"They've probably already heard them," I comment wryly. I don't think there's anyone in town who hasn't heard Grandpa's tales. "You believe them now?"
He shrugs. "It doesn't matter what I believe. They're good enough to convince most of the people in this town, so they should be good enough for tourists too."
I shake my head but smile. He’s still as headstrong as ever, but it's a good thing. His doubt makes it all the more satisfying when I convince him.
When we get to the hotel, Declan immediately heads to his office in the back but I take some time to explore the hotel. It's been a while since I've done this. And as I walk through the first floor, the memories of the last time I was here with Tate travel back to me.
We knew the place like the back of our hands, knew where to step to avoid cracking the wooden boards or having one of them seesaw to hit us in the face or falling through holes. We know where to brace as we climb up the unrailed staircase, and where to duck our head to avoid getting hit by a stray banister.
And the basement...The most fascinating place of all.
I trail a finger along the rough, splintering wood of the wall as I walk into the dark, kitchen area. I breathe in dust, mold, and the subtle scent of charred meat that somehow still persists after all these years. Sometimes, if I breathe deep enough, I feel like I can smell more...
Sometimes, I imagine that I can smell the scones and shrimp that Grandpa used to rave about, hear the laughter of the staff who convened here to eat and make fun of the fancy guests and their particular preferences.
I can see Grandpa joining in, flirting with the waitress that he had a crush on, telling her a long and strange story about his past.
I see my parents meeting, dancing in each other's arms, and smiling...
And then I open my eyes, and it's just blackened kitchen equipment and stained walls.
I tentatively open the door to the side, and head down a ladder to the basement, trying to see the dark room.
It also smells heavily of mold with the slight tang of sewage pipe. An eerie feeling skitters over my skin. Being down here always scares and fascinates me. Probably because Grandpa and Rick took turns telling me horror stories about the basement when I was younger.
I take two steps in before my feet kick something. I squat and pick it up.
A sack?
And then I open it and glittering colorful orbs fill my sight.