Chapter 12 Jane #2
Keeley, though, looks like she’s in heaven.
“God, I want one of these,” she sighs, running her hands along the steering wheel, then gripping it gently with those long, strong fingers. I swallow thickly.
“Why don’t you buy one?”
She shrugs. “It seems silly to have two cars with how little I drive, and it’s not like I’m going to ever get rid of my Rivian.
” With all the equipment she has to haul, it makes sense that she’d keep the electric SUV.
I think she’d love a car like this, though.
I smile as she inspects all the bells and whistles, before pairing her phone and plugging the resort’s address into the GPS. She catches me looking at her.
“Don’t worry, I won’t go too fast,” she says with a smirk, mistaking my pensive admiration for worry.
I laugh. “I’m not too worried. I know you’ll keep me safe.”
“Always,” she says, her expression sobering.
I swallow. “Shall we?”
She clears her throat. “Right.”
Keeley cues up music on her phone before heading out onto the road. It’s an old-school pop-punk playlist, all Good Charlotte and Green Day and Lime Velvet and The Used, which we listen to in silence. But I laugh when “Sadie Hawkins Dance” pops up.
“Seriously?” I ask.
She laughs. “I remember hearing it in your car when we were kids, and the chorus is catchy.”
I groan. “Relient K and Switchfoot were the only good bands I was allowed to listen to. Sometimes I could sneak in secular bands if they sounded similar enough, which is how I got into emo.”
Keeley looks over at me, then refocuses on the road. “You got around all those rules pretty impressively.”
I lean my head against the seat. “It was exhausting. The best thing about getting that record deal was the freedom it gave me to be myself.”
“I’m so glad that happened for you,” she says quietly.
She takes her right hand off the steering wheel and laces her fingers through mine.
This touch is different than the “accidental” brush of fingers in the back of the cab after our pottery class.
Different, even, than the casual way she grabbed my hand to run to the car.
It’s intentional.
There’s no way to explain away the contact now, and yet, neither of us pulls away.
I just squeeze her fingers, leave my hand in hers for the rest of the drive, reveling in silent awe of just how right this feels.
We’re just on the edge of something, and exhilaration blooms across my skin at the possibility of taking the leap.
Like listening to my favorite song, I don’t want the moment to end.
But soon enough, the resort comes into view.
It’s on the banks of the Yellowstone River, set in sprawling fields surrounded by mountains.
A herd of horses grazes in a paddock by a beautiful wooden barn, and in the center of it all sits a giant lodge with floor-to-ceiling windows and a rock exterior.
Other matching buildings surround the main lodge, probably the spa and who knows what other amenities.
“Damn, Riker’s uncles must be loaded,” Keeley says with a whistle as we find a parking spot.
“It’s nice of them to let us stay, but this place looks pretty packed for the off-season,” I observe, staring at the line of vehicles.
She nods, biting her lip. “This is not what I expected.”
Me neither. I pictured a ranch house with maybe a dozen rooms, not a full-blown vacation resort. Together, we head to the main building, and we’re immediately greeted by someone in khakis and flannel. He directs us to the front desk, and I give the receptionist our names.
“Welcome! One king room, yes?”
I blanch, glancing at Keeley in alarm. “I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound right. Riker Maddox should have booked four rooms for us.”
The receptionist raises her brows as she types something into the computer. “I’m sorry, this says the other rooms in that reservation were cancelled this morning.”
“What?” I ask. “I’m going to try to call Riker, hang on.”
Keeley shrugs at the receptionist and asks her about the facilities, and the woman visibly relaxes at the change in subject as I step to the side. While I wait for him to pick up, I stare out at the river shining under the afternoon sun.
“Janey!” Riker says, sounding relaxed and happy to hear from me and not at all like he’s racing to the airport last minute, the way he always does. Suspicion prickles my mind immediately.
“Don’t Janey me! We’re at the resort. Why did the receptionist tell me the reservation was cancelled?”
Riker laughs nervously. “It shouldn’t be the whole reservation, just let go of a couple of rooms. I tried to call you, but your phone was off.”
“Because I was on an airplane? What do you mean, you cancelled a couple of rooms?”
“I, uh, have to back out of the retreat. Jared had a family emergency and Lime Velvet needs me to cover this weekend.” We opened for Lime Velvet back in the day, and they’re old friends, but I can’t imagine it’s really that dire.
Not when this was already planned. Normally, I’d let Riker give me an excuse and take it at face value, but not today.
Because I suspect he has some kind of ulterior motive.
“And you’re the only guitarist they know in LA?” I demand.
“Sorry,” he says breezily. “I couldn’t say no.”
“And what about Valerie and Caleb?” I ask.
“They, uh, had to stay behind because of Caleb’s work. Yeah! His principal denied his request to be off on Monday because a bunch of teachers have the flu. It’s, uh, really bad this year. You should really go get your flu shot if you haven’t already.”
“I’m all covered, actually,” I say, as even more suspicion begins whirring through my mind. “So why are we only finding this out now that we’re at the resort?”
“Like I said, it was all last minute,” Riker says. “But you and Keeley should stay and enjoy your weekend. Relax. See the, uh, pretty sights. Eat good food.”
I huff. “In one room? What’s that about?”
He lets out a humming noise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only cancelled two of the rooms.”
“Sure,” I say, because I don’t believe him for a minute. When Riker is lying, his voice gets higher, and he’s speaking a full octave above his usual baritone. “This is absurd.”
“Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
“Riker!” I snap.
“Make good choices!” he says before he disconnects the call.
I try to mask my annoyance as I go to meet Keeley back at the desk. She’s scrubbing a hand over her face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“They don’t have any more rooms available, since a family just booked them for a last-minute vacation. So unless we all want to squeeze into the king, we’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.”
I laugh nervously. “Well, turns out the rest of the band isn’t coming.”
Keeley’s mouth drops open. “What?”
I relay Riker’s message, and she sighs, apparently more convinced by his excuse than I was. “Well this blows. I thought we were going to have a creative retreat.”
I nod. “Me too. I guess we could just head back, then.”
Keeley freezes. “Is that what you want?”
“Not really, but what are we supposed to do now?”
A spark lights in her eyes, and she glances at the concierge. “I think we should stay.”
“In one room?” I rasp out.
She shrugs. “Why not? You and I could still try to write something together, right?”
“Sure,” I say, even though I’m anything but. Four days alone with Keeley Cunningham in one hotel room just might break me.