8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
WYATT
What the fuck was I doing? Or rather, what was wrong with me?
When I was upstairs, the desire to be with Natalie, to solve what I thought was my problem, was nonexistent. But now I wanted Angie to admit she was jealous? Of what? Because nothing even happened. Maybe Natalie was right, and I needed to figure out what was going on and what I wanted.
Usually, I wanted easy. But at the event, when Natalie barely interacted with me other than to introduce people, I got increasingly annoyed. Then when we were in the elevator heading up to my room, I tried to engage her in conversation only to have her spend fifteen minutes telling me about her recent experience buying a pair of shoes.
I was done, to say the least.
Angie studied me, and asshole flashed through my mind. Because it didn’t matter that I wanted so desperately to lift her dress and bury my face between her legs until she screamed my name. And it didn’t matter if she was jealous. Because she was a forever type of girl. I couldn’t give her that, so I had to stop this game I was playing.
“I got rid of her.” I shrugged and sat back in the lounger, focusing my gaze on the water. “She was too talkative.” I took a large swig of my champagne.
No way was I going to admit what actually happened. That for the first time in years, I had no interest in a beautiful woman. And I sure as hell wasn’t telling her that all I kept thinking about was the look of disgust Angie sent me when I walked into the hotel with Natalie. It was better if I owned the role of playboy.
“That’s so nice of you.” I caught her eye roll in my periphery.
Why her opinion of my personal life mattered, I didn’t know. It had only been three days, but she was already getting under my skin. If I was honest, she’d gotten under my skin before she even showed up on Thursday. But now in a totally different way. Almost obsessive. All I could think about was getting back down here to see how her day had gone.
“The employee appreciation luncheon is scheduled for Tuesday,” Angie said after minutes of silence.
“Great.” I needed to remember to do something for Angie. Between arriving early to deal with the wedding and scheduling the luncheon, she really had been an asset in the last couple of days. My grandmother always found doing special things for the staff and our guests important, even though I thought it was a waste of money.
“And I’m going to go to the florist shop in town sometime this week to replace the flowers in the lobby.”
“Why?” I tilted my head and studied her. “I thought we only had those for the wedding?”
Angie’s brows pulled together. “Didn’t your grandmother always have flower arrangements in the lobby?”
“Not sure. I never really paid attention.”
“Maybe you should.”
And there it was. The reminder that I wasn’t good at that stuff. It was why my grandmother knew I would need someone who was. I narrowed my eyes.
“Just saying.” Her shoulders lifted and fell, her gaze softening slightly. “Maybe you should try to notice the little details around this hotel that make it so special. Like flowers in the lobby. When I first came here for my interview and saw the beautiful display of flowers that were scattered around the lobby, it made me smile. I immediately loved the place. And the lights outside that were strung up and spanned the length of the wraparound porch. The throw pillows on the sofas and chairs and the paintings hanging on the walls. All of that adds a special charm to the place that other places don’t have. You know?”
“You’re telling me flowers and throw pillows are making our guests happy?” I wasn’t sure I would ever understand that, but I wanted to try. She made me want to see things the way she saw them.
“Yes.” She chuckled. “In the fewest number of words, that’s what I’m telling you.”
“You sound like my grandmother.” I shook my head and sat forward, grabbing the bottle of champagne and topping off our glasses. “You’re as nuts as she was.”
“Or maybe we have an eye for these things and you don’t.”
“I don’t think we need to spend any more of the hotel’s profits on stupid crap like throw pillows and flowers. That’s not what makes us money.”
“I think you’re wrong. Blanche ran this hotel for more than forty years and built it into what it is now. You should have a little more faith in what she thought was best.”
Now I felt like a kid being reprimanded. What was I going to say to that? No. I don’t want to preserve my grandmother’s memory or do any of the things she found important?
Jesus.
“Fine. Whatever.” Flowers and throw pillows. Why not? Let’s throw more money away instead of trying to make money. I might lose my goddamn mind.
She shifted in the lounger next to me, and her dress rode up her thighs. Blood shot south as I took in the creamy expanse of skin above her knees. I wanted to reach out and stop her when she yanked at the hem, pulling the material back down.
The brink of insanity felt even closer as I subtly adjusted myself. Her breath hitched. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but at the same time, part of me wanted her to know the effect she had on me. I met her wide-eyed stare, detecting both confusion and disbelief.
Words spilled from my mouth without thought. “You don’t realize how fucking gorgeous you are, do you?”
Pink tinged her cheeks, and her gaze lowered to her dress. “Please don’t. I know I’m bigger than most women. Especially the ones you seem to date.”
I gritted my teeth. “Jesus, Angie. I wish I could show you exactly what I think of your body.”
A whisper of a scoff came from her, and it only egged me on.
“I’m sitting here talking with you, hard as a rock, whereas an hour ago, I couldn’t even get it up.”
Her wide eyes raised to mine. “What? You didn’t…”
This was such a bad idea. I needed to stop, but I shook my head. “No, Angie. All I could think about was coming back down here to talk to you.”
She studied me, and I held her gaze, letting her see whatever she needed to. I knew nothing could happen, but I’d be damned if I’d let her believe I didn’t want something to.