13. Ryan
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ryan
My temples start pulsing in that all-familiar rhythm as we make our way to the suite. Seeing Paige all worked up about the room situation was fun, but the realization quickly set it. I’ll have to share a space with three women I don’t know. For a week. Parker would have a field day with this.
Not me. I’m only thinking about how there’ll be nowhere to escape when my headaches hit. No peace and quiet. I already know Paige and her sister will try to get as much information from me as they can, while Emma will try to become my friend and, honestly, I’m not sure which I hate more.
The driver makes a sudden left turn with the golf cart the four of us are currently crammed into, and I struggle to keep my stomach down. As we pass the main building, it becomes clear that the villas are actually modern wooden cabins, mostly hidden from the paved path by the dense trees.
The cart comes to a sudden stop in front one cabin, and the driver smiles. “Here we are.” At least someone is excited about this. “Leave everything here, I will bring it inside,” he says, making his way toward the entrance.
Still, my fingers wrap around the handle of my suitcase, and I trail it behind me, unwilling to exploit the man.
“Shit,” I mutter as Paige comes to a stop before me, and I barely manage to avoid running into her.
She lets out a gasp, and it only takes me a beat to catch up.
The villa is absolutely spectacular. My eyes trail the place like it’s the best thing they’ve ever seen, which might as well be true.
Growing up with a single mom, I didn’t even know places like this existed.
After I made my money in finance, I couldn’t afford to be absent from work enough to take a vacation, so I never got to enjoy to fruits of my labor.
Glass covers the entire seaside wall of the villa.
A gorgeous terrace is nestled among the trees, offering a spectacular view of the ocean just a few hundred feet away.
I enter the open and spacious living, dining, and kitchen area, dropping my bags next to the massive bamboo dining room table.
The space is furnished with neutral colors and, from what I can tell, top-notch materials, perfectly in sync with the surrounding nature.
The sunken U-shaped sofa is easily the size of my bedroom back home.
By the time I’m done staring, the driver has wished us a pleasant stay and left, and Emma’s squeal travels the house. “Dibs on the main bedroom.”
I follow the commotion, finding her making angels on the sheets of the California King in the main bedroom. Her wife jumps on after her, and I decide it’s time to leave.
The main bedroom is located to the right of the living space.
The opposite side of the villa hosts two more rooms, smaller but equally gorgeous.
Paige has already entered one, so I slip into the other.
The bed isn’t a California King, but it’s a spacious queen-sized bed with Egyptian cotton bedding.
Fine off-white curtains dance with the breeze coming from outside.
Just as I decide that this might not be so bad, a string of profanities travels through the adjacent door.
The knob turns in my hand, finding Paige with her arms crossed in front of her chest on the other side.
It’s a bathroom, one that the two bedrooms obviously share.
With a huff, she storms back into her room, closing the door behind her.
The bathroom is just as beautiful as the rest of the place with a free-standing tub, a massive rain shower, and a double sink. I doubt I’ll be able to fully enjoy it, though, what with the huffing tornado on the other side of the door.
The four of us mostly avoided each other last night, or, better said, the three of them avoided me.
I didn’t mind, enjoying my solitude on the evening run along the beach, and eating alone in my room.
This morning, though, a ring at the door brings us all to the same room.
The smiling server rolls in a cart overflowing with food and seems oblivious to the tension between us.
Glances run forth and back, left and right, before we conclude that none of us ordered the food.
“Ooh, there’s a note,” Emma coos, wearing a floral beach dress and a wide smile.
She approaches the cart, plucking the little white card with swift precision.
“Enjoy breakfast. We’ll meet at reception in an hour for our daily activity.
Bring a bathing suit and plenty of sunscreen.
You especially, Paige.” She casts a look at Paige, who rolls her eyes. “Love, Kim and Roger.”
By the end of the note, Emma’s voice turns sickly sweet, as if it’s the cutest thing she’s ever read, and I have to agree with Paige—rolling one’s eyes seems to be the appropriate reaction. “Come on, guys. Help me carry this.” Emma grabs two plates and walks toward the dining table.
I shift in place, wondering how rude it would be if I simply took a random plate and went to my room. But Emma gazes at me expectantly, and I decide a single meal can’t hurt. She was, after all, the only one nice to my mom during that dinner.
I grab a few serving plates and sit down at the table. It seats at least ten people, so I make sure I’m not sitting close to any of them.
Jordan slides a large thermos toward me, our eyes locking for a second. “There’s coffee,” she grunts, and I dip my head.
The scent of coffee penetrates my nostrils after I pour a hefty amount of it into my cup.
The silence stretches for a minute before Paige breaks it. “I can’t believe he’s making us do this.”
“Oh, yeah, what a jerk. Making us vacation in this tropical paradise and even planning something nice for us to do.” Emma’s voice drips sarcasm, and I barely contain my chuckle.
“You know what I mean,” Paige says in lieu of explanation, locking eyes with Jordan. Understanding passes between them.
“I know exactly what you mean,” I add. “Who’d want to spend time with me? Or my mother?” My expression twist into one of mock disgust, and Paige’s cheek turn pink.
“That’s not what I meant…”
I shrug, rolling her words off my shoulders. Though it’s obvious she’s still wary of Mom and I, I’m not hurt by her words. Still, I can’t resist getting under her skin. For a person so averse to conflict, I sure enjoy pushing her buttons.
“Look, Paige, they have your favorite.” Emma lifts an almond croissant from a tray.
Paige’s expression brightens, and she grabs the croissant, stuffing it into her mouth. I ignore the soft moan that escapes her, focusing on the mouthwatering spread in front of me.
There’s everything you could want, from eggs prepared three different ways, crispy bacon, pancakes, and at least ten types of cut-up fruit.
A little of everything finds its way to my plate, though I doubt I’ll be able to eat much since the pressure in my head has already started.
This place might be heaven on Earth, but the six of us spending time together sure sounds like hell.