5. Lana
five
lana
I had no idea what to expect after the luxury of flying on a private plane, but the cozy cabin looking like something from one of my Pinterest boards wasn’t it. It was cute and small and unpretentious. Homey and welcoming. Very unlike the impression Wilson had given me. If I had guessed where a man like him stayed when he went to the mountains, it would have been in a huge cold McMansion closer to people and a city. Less secluded than the cabin we were in.
I glanced at him from over my shoulder while he stood by the kitchen table going through a binder. I took the moment to appreciate how good he looked. Big and strong. Powerful yet approachable somehow. Even while he still wore his stuffy suit. He was handsome, and I’d never been attracted to anyone like I felt with him.
What are you doing, Lana Banana? I could almost make out Vivi’s voice in my head. Not only was I attracted to him, I was going to pretend to be his girlfriend. What if we had to kiss? What if we were tempted to do more? It’d been a while for me, but I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea.
“Is everything okay?” I asked before my mind wandered to what that would be like, being Wilson’s girl.
You’d probably have to suffer a full day of primping and preening just so he would even look in your direction.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved a mani and pedi, but I didn’t go regularly. And waxing? Even less! No, Wilson Harding would date someone who was more polished than me. Classier. Someone more than comfortable and well versed in fashion, wearing matching designer labels with him.
Meanwhile, I loved thrifting and spending time in my small garden space when I had the chance, in old clothes.
What am I doing? I was usually always so put together. I had a plan and steps to make things happen. It’d always been that way. When I was little, I’d wanted to learn how to roller skate, but my mom hadn’t been big on it. Not that she didn’t want me to learn; she just worried about me breaking something. But I’d learned and had kept that discipline from there on out.
“Great,” he answered, turning to give me his complete attention. “This isn’t one of the usual properties I stay at… it’s a little smaller.” He cleared his throat. “I was just reading about the setup and where everything is.” I smiled, genuinely happy that for whatever reason, we were where we were.
“It’s beautiful here. I don’t think I saw another cabin for miles,” I noted. There was something about the way he was looking at me, almost like he was concerned.
“Not too small?” he asked. My head tilted. Is he worried about what I think about the place?
“Not at all.” I shook my head. “I think I’ve saved a place like this on a travel mood board I have.”
“You like the mountains?” he asked, and I nodded.
“I love them. I mean, I get everyone loves the beach, I do. But I don’t know?” I shrugged, “There’s something about the air and trees that just… calls me,” I shared and then, because of how intently he listened, I exposed a little more about myself. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Moonlit Pines?”
“I have, actually. Small town close to Sugarloaf?” I nodded with a slight smile on my face.
“That’s the one. I’m going to retire there one day.” I had no idea why I shared that with him. Wilson opened then shut his mouth, almost like he wasn’t sure what to say. He cleared his throat.
“Would you like the tour?” he offered.
“Of course. Thank you.” My eyes widened when he walked directly towards me, taking my hand in his, and before I could say something sassy, Wils winked at me. A wink that shot through me like a double shot of espresso as he led me through the cabin.
The cabin was beautiful.
Exposed dark wood beams and white walls. The furniture matched with a deep rich brown leather sectional and matching recliner. Each one had different white fuzzy throws tossed over the armrests, not to mention matching rugs on the dark wood floors.
“Living room,” he noted, and I nodded as he took me down the hall. “Bathroom.” He pointed. “Linen closet. And this is your room.” He opened the door and stepped aside. I walked in and couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Wilson… this is beautiful,” I whispered, taking in the space.
It wasn’t just a bedroom. It was a sanctuary! The king-size bed was covered with white fluffy bedding and a million pillows and had a wooden slated headboard that went with the wood shelves and the luscious green plants that were placed throughout the room.
“It’s, wow… it’s like a dream,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
“The bedroom has an ensuite.” He took a step, and I followed him. I couldn’t believe the beautiful spa-like bathroom when he opened the door.
“Wilson… I don’t have words.” A claw-footed, fully restored white tub sat in front of a huge window that looked out towards the back of the property. I could only imagine the. When I turned, he wasn’t looking at the space. His attention was on me and my reaction. His blue eyes were so intense heat coursed through my body. I swayed closer before I stopped myself.
This wasn’t a date. It was a deal.
One to get me out of having to pay for his stupid car.
“It’s like a spa,” I mumbled, trying to control what I felt when it came to him. I still wasn’t sure, but I liked him a little more with every minute that passed by. He’d been sweet on the plane, and waking up after sleeping on his shoulder? I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to admit it out loud, but it had been the best sleep I’d had in a long time. Not to mention the time sitting around my kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and sharing Oreos, which had been sweet. I had a feeling he didn’t show that side of him to many people.
“Would you like to see the rest of the place, or would you like to change and get comfortable?”
“Comfortable?” I repeated, hyperaware of what that meant.
Changing into pajamas and staying in.
Would he want to spend time together, or would he just go lock himself in his room?
“We don’t have anywhere to go?” I asked. Reality hit me like a cold bucket of water. It was just the two of us here.
“Not tonight. The snow’s falling pretty hard“—I’d noticed that on the drive—“so, I figured we could stay in? Watch a movie, have dinner.”
“Dinner,” I repeated, pressing my lips together. “You cook?” I wondered and felt my cheeks flame with heat when I realized I’d said the words out loud. His lips, full and enticing, twitched.
“I can handle myself in the kitchen.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, giving me the impression he was full of it or trying to be humble. Something I had a feeling he didn’t do often.
“Really?” I asked skeptically.
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know… I just, you give the impression that—“ I stopped talking, realizing how what I had been about to say would sound.
“Impression of what?”
“That you would probably have a staff at home. Or private chefs to cook for you.”
“I usually do,” he admitted and then shrugged. “It’s how I was brought up by the old man.”
“Old man?”
“Sorry, my grandfather,” he corrected before he ran his fingers through his hair. There was something in his gaze, a sadness that made me want to close the few feet that separated us.
But I couldn’t move.
I wanted to ask more but didn’t let myself go there. Yet , a little voice perked up, the same one that talked me into playing with myself to the thoughts of him every night since the accident.
“I’d love to see the rest of the house. If that’s okay with you?” I answered, and his eyes softened.
“Okay.” He nodded, reaching for my hand once again. He showed me a room that had been converted into a library that once again had incredible plants all over it and then to the other bedroom.
“Shit,” he cursed when he opened the door. I looked over his shoulder, and my eyes widened. “Well… I wasn’t expecting this,” he rumbled, and I blinked.
The room looked like it had been turned into some kind of storage shed. Boxes lined up by the far wall.
“The bed’s been taken down.” I pointed at the pieces that leaned against the boxes. “Does someone usually stay here?”
“No. And I forgot about the renovation. The management property had plans to paint and refloor.” He turned, and when I looked up at him, his hand moved from mine and held my waist.
“You could take my room. I’ll take the couch—“ I started to offer, but whatever words I’d planned to say died on my tongue when his eyes locked with mine.
“You really think I would let you do that?” he asked in a deep, sinfully delicious tone. One of his hands left my waist. The tips of his fingers stroked my arm with a featherlight touch. I leaned in closer, and suddenly, breathing wasn’t that easy.
“I… just mean you’re big.” My eyes roamed down to the bulge in the front of his dress pants. Stop checking him and his package out! a voice shouted, and I shook my head.
“I mean tall!” I corrected. My face flamed. When our eyes connected, he was smiling. “I just, umm, I’m shorter than you and would sleep on the couch better than you would.”
“I don’t think so.”
“The bed is big,” I found myself saying. “Maybe we could share?” I suggested, then my brain processed what I’d said out loud.
“Share?” His brows rose to his hairline, and I licked my lips.
“I mean,”—his head dipped down—“we’re adults.” My voice softened. “We’re supposed to pretend I’m your girlfriend, right?”
“Right,” he rumbled. We were so close I could hear every breath he took.
“So, if we share a bed … maybe we can get to know each other a little better?” Oh my god! Why does it sound like every word that comes out of my mouth, I try to throw myself at him?
“Get to know one another?” he repeated with an edge to his voice. “In bed together?”
“I mean, we could talk. That’s all I mean. Nothing else.”
“Nothing else, huh?” His eyes dipped down to my mouth. I wondered if he was thinking about kissing me. It was all I could think about. It wouldn’t take much. We were close enough that all he’d need to do was lean in an inch or three more and press his lips against mine.
“What else would there be? You said this wasn’t that kind of proposition,” I pointed out, getting my head straight. Before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped out of his hold and watched as his hands fell to his sides.
“Right, it’s not. But if?—“
“No if,” I interrupted. I was way too attracted to him to let an if hang over our head, making the opportunity available for something more. No. It wasn’t practical.
I rubbed the back of my neck. We came from completely different worlds. A man like Wilson would only be interested in me for a moment, while I had no doubt a night with him would ruin me for anyone else. But he would walk away and forget all about me. Just like my own dad had.
“I think I’m going to go change,” I finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
“Right. I’ll get dinner started. Any food allergies?”
“No.” I shook my head, and he nodded.
We walked side by side until we reached the room I had just offered to share. “See you in the kitchen?” he asked, and even though I smiled at him, we both knew it was fake.
After he disappeared down the hall, I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me, resting my head against the cool wood.
“What are you doing, Lana?” I asked myself. I had no idea, but I had to figure it out, and quickly.
What if? I wondered to myself as I pulled a change of clothes out of my bag.
I wasn’t dating or even talking to anyone. I had all but unofficially sworn off guys after my last attempt with dating apps.
What if I let myself have these couple of days? Enjoyed the company of a guy I wasn’t sure I even liked but for whatever reason my body couldn’t seem to resist? I could tell he was attracted to me. I didn’t mean to sound full of myself, but I could tell he didn’t find me hideous. I was decent looking. My mom said I got my dark hair and blue eyes from my dad. My curves, tanned skin, and full lips I got from her and her Mexican-American side. She was also the one who taught me Spanish because learning languages was like a superpower, according to her, and I agreed.
I glanced at myself in the mirror one more time. What if? I worried my lips as my gaze drifted to my purse, where my makeup bag was. I knew what I was going to do. I’d probably try and talk myself out of it, but it wouldn’t work. I knew it. And I had a feeling he did, too.
I changed into a pair of dark navy joggers that hugged my curves in a way that didn’t feel like they were painted on my body but weren’t too loose to feel like I could get tangled up in them. I paired them with a white tank top and pulled on a baby blue cardigan with white puffy clouds all over it.
A little lip gloss won’t hurt.
As the seconds ticked away, the surer I became about what I wanted. A weekend of hot sex wouldn’t be the world’s worst idea. Not when I knew the score. A man like Wilson Harding didn’t settle down with a woman like me. He was all about caviar and champagne, while my favorite wine came from a box. Literally.
A weekend working off the stress and frustration from the last couple of days sounded better than okay to me.