8. Rune #2
"Right, right," Brock said, his voice dripping with teasing sarcasm, "just friends."
“Uncle B, come on." Duncan was blushing furiously, giving his uncle a don't do this to me glare. "For real. We're just friends."
"OH LOOK," I said too loudly, "RAQUEL AND HAMISH HAVE A CAB."
I scuttled away, hauling my hard-sided roller suitcase behind me, my carry-on duffel smacking the small of my back, while my purse flounced at my hip; I'm not running, you're running.
Duncan and Brock did the manly handshake-and-hug thing, and then Duncan slung a sleek black leather duffel bag over one shoulder and followed after me. He caught up as I was heaving my bags into the trunk of the taxi van.
"Sorry about Uncle Brock being nosy," he murmured to me. "My family has no sense of personal boundaries."
"It's all good," I said. "No worries. I've got nosy family too."
He caught my hand after I closed the hatch. “Hey. About us being just friends…I hope you understand I only meant—"
"Duncan," I said, cutting in over him. "It's the truth. We're just friends. We may have, um…messed around a bit," I leaned closer to him, "and probably will some more before the weekend is over, but we both know this is…" I trailed off with a shrug.
"It has a built-in expiration date," Duncan answered, although he didn't sound entirely thrilled.
"Exactly." I took one of his hands. "Look, Duncan. I…I do like you. A lot. I just…I've been away from LA for more than two months. After finding out about Hayes, I sort of left town and never went back. But I…my family is there. My condo is there. My life is there. I have to go home."
He sighed heavily, nodding. "I know. I get it.
And it's cool. I mean, a part of me does wish we could spend more than just this weekend together, but you have to go home.
And I need to focus on running the Kitty.
Dad and Delia took a risk trusting me as the GM, and I'm not about to let them down, especially not because I'm getting distracted.
" His eyes widened. "Not that you're a distraction, I just meant—"
I laughed, putting a hand over his mouth.
"Relax, I know what you meant, Duncan. It's okay.
We both know this is what it is, and we both have lives to get back to.
In the meantime, we can have fun with each other and know that when it's time to go our separate ways, it's with mutual respect and understanding. Yeah?"
He grinned. “Yeah. Exactly."
Raquel leaned out of the open sliding door. "Hey, you two. C'mon. We need to check in and then go meet the manager of the venue."
The hotel was either newly built or freshly remodeled—there was a strong smell of fresh paint in the lobby, and men in construction gear wandered around in pairs and groups. Raquel and Hamish were already at the check-in desk, conversing with the receptionist.
"Our manager heard about the reason you guys are here," the receptionist said—she was a young woman, possibly Inuit or the like, based on her skin, hair, and facial tattoos. "He has upgraded your reservation to the penthouse suite, on us."
Raquel seemed like she was about to start crying. "Oh my god, that's so kind of you. Thank you so much!”
A few minutes later, a bellhop or whatever they're called these days was escorting the couple up to their room, and Duncan and I took our place at the desk.
"What's the name the reservation is under?" she asked, addressing us both.
"Oh, um, it should be two separate ones," Duncan answered. "One under Badd, B-A-D-D, and the other under Rigby." He glanced at me. "Right? R-I-G-B-Y?"
I nodded. “Right. I made my reservation the same day as they did," I said, indicating Raquel and Hamish where they waited at a bank of elevators.
"I made mine the day after," Duncan said. "If it matters."
There was a long moment of silence punctuated only by sporadic typing, and then the receptionist frowned at us. "Um, hmm. I see your reservations here, but there's been a bit of an issue."
Duncan sighed. "I see. And what is the issue?"
She waved at the construction workers swarming the lobby.
"We're finishing some renovations, as you see, and with the rest of the wedding party all making reservations at the same time…
" she typed some more. "We've oversold, unfortunately.
A whole floor is under construction at the moment—it was supposed to be done by now, but there's been some delays. "
"So…what?" I asked. "You're saying there's not enough rooms?"
She gave a simpering, apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, yes. We only have one room available."
Duncan and I exchanged glances.
"So…" Duncan raked a hand through his hair. "There's no other solution? You've only got one room left in the whole hotel? When I called, no one said anything about renovations. I was told there would be plenty of rooms."
She sighed unhappily. "Well, sir, as I said, it was supposed to have been done by now, but there was some sort of delay. The information you were given was supposed to have been true, but unfortunately no longer is. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
Duncan opened his mouth, looking like he was about to ream her out. I squeezed his hand. "Duncan, it's fine. We can share. We're both adults. It's fine, I promise.”
The receptionist looked relieved. "The room I have available is a single king bed suite. It's actually one of our nicest rooms and has a window facing the bay. I can give it to you for a pretty significant discount, as well, to make up for the inconvenience."
A single bed?
I looked up at Duncan, and saw that he was likely thinking the same thing I was—it's not like we would have spent too much time in our individual rooms anyway, considering how combustible our physical chemistry is.
Duncan nodded, flipping a hand. "Yeah, that's fine. Thank you."
We barely had time to set our bags down and take a quick peek at the room—which was, as advertised, a nice one, with a stellar view and a spacious bathroom.
No sooner had we both sat down on the bed with nearly-in-unison sighs than Raquel was blowing up my phone, wanting to know when we could meet in the lobby and go see the venue.
I patted Duncan's rock-hard thigh. "C'mon, then. Raquel is a little excited, if you couldn't tell."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed. But she's getting married, and Hamish seems like a great dude. It's good she's excited."
"Hamish is as great as he seems," I said.
He glanced at me. "You're okay sharing a room?"
I shrugged. "Not like we have much choice." I grinned up at him. "I doubt we'll be getting much sleep, though."
His answering grin held promises of long, sweaty, delightful nights to come. "No, I don’t think we will."
My phone buzzed with another incoming message from Raquel. "Come on," I said, dragging myself upright. "We'd better go before Raquel has an aneurysm.”
We headed down to the lobby together. It was so crowded that Duncan had to take my hand so we didn't get separated, and then once we were through the crush around the elevators, neither of us seemed inclined to let go.
Raquel's eyes flicked to our joined hands, and a small smile flitted across her face—I immediately let go of Duncan's hand and put a bit of distance between us.
Duncan informed us that the restaurant was within walking distance from the hotel, so we set out on foot.
"Sorry about the state of the hotel," Ducan said as we walked. "I had no idea it was being remodeled. They didn't tell me that when I called. I don't visit this location much."
"Hey, I'm grateful, Duncan," Raquel said. “Our room is amazing. I'm happy."
“How are your rooms?" Hamish asked.
I snorted. "You mean room , singular. They ran out, so we're sharing."
Raquel didn't even try to suppress a snort of laughter. "I bet that's gonna be a hardship."
"We're just friends, Raquel," I said. "Don't make it weird."
"I'll tell you what, though," Hamish said, grinning, “I’ve never kissed any of my friends the way you two were snogging last night. It’s a bloody miracle you didn't end up fornicatin’ right there on the bloody fuckin' deck in front of us."
Duncan and I traded glances. "Um, what?" I asked.
Raquel cackled. "You guys were so wasted, ya'll. I'm not surprised you don't remember. I do, though."
“Yeah, well, you're annoying, because you never black out," I said.
She just shrugged. "I can't help that I remember everything. Trust me, Rune, there've been a few nights I wish I could forget."
"Like that party at the Kappa Kappa Gamma house?" I said.
Her eyes narrowed. "We won't be discussing that." Her tone was arch and prim.
I laughed. "But why ever not, Raquel?"
She looked sidelong at Hamish, who was watching his fiancée with amused curiosity. "Rune, don't."
“Something I should know, my love?" Hamish asked, grinning. "I feel like there's a story here."
"You were back home in Scotland, visiting your family over the holidays, before we were serious." She shrugged, waved a hand. "I got a little messy. No story."
I cackled at her response. "No story? I beg to differ."
"Well then?" Hamish said, covering Raquel's mouth as she tried to protest. "Do tell."
I spent the rest of the walk telling a truthful but embellished version of the story, which involved Raquel, Jell-O shots, and a dance-off, which ended up with Raquel covered in body paint, glitter, and nothing else except her underwear.
The more I told, the harder everyone laughed…
except Raquel, who was laughing while also protesting certain embellishments.
"Okay, first of all," she said, pointing a finger in my face, "I had pasties on! And second, I did not twerk . I'm a dancer . There's nothing wrong with twerking, as a thing, but that bitch challenged me to a dance-off! I brought my A-game, and my A-game does not include twerking."
"The only thing I'm no exactly clear on," Hamish said, "is how a dance-off led you to being body-painted and covered in glitter." Glitter ended up sounding more like gl-IH-rrr, with a curling roll of the r-sound.