Chapter 9 #2
“I’m fine.”
She was anything but fine. The subtle trembling of her shoulders told him that.
As soon as the boat had pulled up to the dock, she’d wriggled away from his side, leaving a deep ache in his chest. Mandy had gone to find some shoes for them in the US Coast Guard Station.
Eric puffed on a cigarette at the side of the boat, out of earshot.
“You’re shaking.” He knew he should let it go, but why the hell did she have to make herself uncomfortable just because she was irritated?
She hunched her shoulders. “And your pants are still wet.”
“You’re half naked,” he said, nodding at her bare legs. She covered the top of her foot with the other, and he stared at her pink toenails. An image of those slim, attractive feet wrapped around his hips entered his mind. He quickly shook it away.
Mandy jogged down the dock and landed on the deck with a thump.
“These are mine,” she said to Peyton. “They’ll be big on you, but it’s all we had.
I’m sorry, I couldn’t find any spare pants.
” She turned to Rhett and smirked. “Found these in the lost and found. I don’t think anyone will miss them.
” She held up large sandals with giant yellow sunflowers on top.
He curled his lip and dangled the shoe from his fingertip. “Seriously?”
Peyton snorted and pressed her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. Eric slapped his knee, and his laughter bounced off the ocean. “I have to say, man, those suit you better than your loafers.”
“Ha, ha. So funny.” He jammed his feet into the flip-flops, which had clearly been designed to fit Bigfoot’s wife, and stood. “C’mon, Peyton, we’ll give you a ride to wherever you’re staying.”
Peyton fell into step beside him as they made their way to the Dodge Charger in the parking lot. Her sandals slapped loudly on the pavement, clearly too large for her.
“Where are you staying?”
She gave him the name of her hotel, and he recognized it as one of the fancy ones along the coast. He whistled and bounced his eyebrows. “Swanky.”
She elbowed his side playfully. The contact sent a blast of heat through his core.
Every damn antenna in his body was overcharged.
The urge to make a snarky comment about how she was able to afford such a glamorous place slid down his throat.
With Eric and Mandy present, he didn’t need to point out her record.
She shrugged. “I’m on business.”
Despite the annoyance picking at him, he smirked. “Yeah, well. Business is closed.” He opened the Dodge’s rear passenger door and waved her inside. He slid in next to her as Eric got in the driver’s seat. Mandy took the front passenger seat.
While Eric drove, Mandy hammered questions at Rhett about Moretti and what had gone down on the yacht. He kept his answers quick and to the point, then Mandy turned in her seat and her green eyes looked over Peyton carefully.
“I’m glad Rhett got you out when he did. Moretti’s a man I wouldn’t want to get caught crossing.” Questions hung off her words, but Mandy must have decided to keep Peyton’s reason for being on board between her and Rhett—for now.
They pulled up to the hotel and Peyton’s body sang at the prospect of dry clothes and a warm bed. Rhett stepped out of the vehicle and held the door for her.
Bright fluorescent lights shone from beneath the carport and a doorman stood at the open door, his free hand behind his back. Rhett leaned into the vehicle. “I’m going to take her to her room. Wait here.”
“No rush,” Mandy called in a singsong voice. “It was nice meeting you, Peyton.”
Eric harrumphed and flicked his hand over his shoulder.
Peyton waved to Eric and Mandy and thanked them for their help. She squinted at him as they walked into the building. “You don’t have to escort me.” The climb in her voice belied her words. The doorman gave her a curious glance and she pulled the sweater tight around her frame.
“I know. I just want to see you off, that’s all. How are you going to get into your room?”
Her shoulders drooped. “Oh my god. I don’t have my key, or my ID.” She stalked to the front desk and propped her elbows on the edge.
Rhett cast a glance around the lobby. He caught sight of a bellboy and followed his line of vision.
He was staring directly at the supple skin on the backs of Peyton’s thighs.
Desire—followed by fierce protectiveness—blazed through him.
He fit his arm around her waist and pulled her against his hip, blocking the bellboy’s—and hopefully everyone else’s—view.
She jumped at his touch, scrunched her features into a cute scowl, and returned her attention to the desk clerk.
“Hello, ma’am, how may I help you?”
“I was involved in a boating incident this evening. I lost my purse, which had my room key and ID.”
“Tsk. I’m sorry to hear that,” said the thin man with a patchy goatee. “What’s your name?”
“Peyton Risk,” she said.
He typed something and asked her to confirm her check-in day, as well as her date of birth. Then the clerk tapped the mouse. His mouth shifted toward one cheek and then the other.