8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Tage
I follow alongside Lane as he walks quickly through the space, talking out loud about his vision. The woman we’re meeting with, Seline, is listening intently, staring out at the areas he points to as if she can envision what he’s saying.
I can. It’s something about the way he speaks. He’s passionate when it comes to this, and you don’t need much to notice it. There’s something in his voice that makes you feel what he’s feeling.
“And here,” he says, pausing and taking a deep breath.
His eyes graze over the large area of… nothing.
Literally, it’s just a large space that he’s transforming into an indoor spa.
You don’t realize how big spaces in hotels are until they’re empty.
This feels almost creepy. “Here is where we put the waterfall with the sky tunnel.”
“Sky tunnel?” The words fall from my mouth before I even think about them. This isn’t about impressing me, but I’m still impressed.
Lane looks at me with a proud but cocky smirk.
“The sky tunnel,” he confirms with a nod.
“Pass through the gentle waterfall, and you’ll enter the tunnel.
The curved ceiling will be lined with waterproof LED panels, creating a night sky with stars that actually move and twinkle above you.
Along the sides will be chairs for people to lounge, cuddle, drink, whatever they want.
Or you can keep swimming and make your way through the other waterfall and outside to the fresh air. ”
He stops, winking at me before bringing his attention to Seline.
“It’s a wonderful vision, Mr. Monroe, and we’re confident that you will deliver,” she says happily.
“We always do,” he adds.
“Well, I think we’re done here for the day. I have to meet with the team to update them and go over a few more things. Did you email the concepts to me?”
“Yes,” I say. “I emailed everything first thing this morning.”
“Wonderful. We will be in touch with any change requests and future meetings.” She holds out her hand to Lane. “It was wonderful meeting with you again, and I can’t wait to get this project going.”
“Likewise,” he says with a bright smile.
She leads us out to the lobby—well, future lobby. The building is nothing but bare bones right now; an old hotel bought, gutted, and rebuilt for the space they want.
“I won’t lie,” I say as we step outside into the bright sun. “This is the kind of place I’d go.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I get a lifetime membership then.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Of course. All the resorts I work with offer it. It’s like part of the deal.”
I’ve seen Lane in plenty of meetings before, and I always find it just a little bit funny and slightly jarring how quickly he can change from the serious man he is in meetings to this more laid-back version.
“Do you ever go?”
“No,” he says simply.
“Why not?”
Shrugging, he says, “Don’t really do the vacation thing.”
“Now that’s sad. All that money and no fun?”
We reach the car and I tug on the handle, but it’s still locked. I turn to see Lane staring at me, watching me with open curiosity.
“What?” I say, squinting to shield my eyes from the light.
“You’re being nice.”
I roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks burn. “I told you I would try.”
He steps closer just as a breeze blows, rustling my hair. He brushes it back into place, his fingers warmer than the sun’s rays.
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.
“You said that already.”
“Different subject.”
“It’s all pretty general.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, it’s not.”
I clear my throat and step back, out of his space, because wow, did it just get really freaking hot outside?
The car beeps, letting me know it’s been unlocked, so I get in and put my seatbelt on, grateful for the larger vehicle giving us enough distance between us.
“Where to?” he asks.
“I thought we’d go back to the hotel?”
“And do what? We have the whole day. We don’t leave until tomorrow.”
“You pick,” I say, not wanting to recall any of the times I’ve been in this area. None of them are fun and remind me of people I’m trying to forget.
“All right,” he says calmly, then puts the car in gear and drives us to a strip mall. Grinning, he looks over at me when we park.
“Of course you want to spend money,” I say with a huff.
“It’s what I’m good at,” he adds. “Come on.”
We get out of the car and walk up and down the sidewalk, passing the stores, browsing from the outside until I spot a clothing shop with ridiculously printed shirts in the front window. I see the price tag from here and it makes me want to throw up. But…
“I have an idea,” I say, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the store. We’re greeted by a man who pulls off the colorful shirt and weird pattern thing great, somehow.
We browse for a bit. I feel Lane’s attention on me every now and then, but I don’t give it back.
Not until I find the most ridiculous shirt in the store.
The print is rows of birds sitting on branches, all of them bright and colorful in a way that isn’t realistic in the least. It’s priced at $900. 00.
“Here, I think this would be perfect for you.” I pull it off the rack and hold it out to him.
Smirking, he says, “Oh, so this is what we’re doing, hm?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feign innocence. “I just think you’ll look good in the shirt. You’re totally a bird guy.”
“Uh huh,” he says, not an ounce of belief in his tone. But he takes the shirt and goes to the fitting room, where he lets the gentleman know he’d like to try it on.
When he returns, I stifle a laugh because he looks ridiculous.
“What? I think it looks good. I’m going to get it.”
“No, you’re not,” I say.
“Of course, I am.” There’s a challenge in his eyes.
“Fine.” I hold up my hands. It’s your body. Put on it what you will.” Then a sly look crosses his face, and I know what he’s thinking. “Oh, no. We’re not doing that.”
He walks past me, keeping his voice low. “You’re playing with fire.”
I groan but await what I know is coming.
Somehow, he finds a shirt that’s even more ridiculous than the one I chose.
Not sure how I missed it. I don’t bother trying it on.
What does it matter? He’s made up his mind.
So, I’m stuck wearing a shirt that looks like it’s made out of crocheted granny squares, only it’s just the print and not actually crocheted.
It’s so ugly, I can’t imagine someone actually wearing this because they like it.
He pays for the shirts, and we walk to the car. Once inside, he starts to unbutton the shirt he has on.
“What are you doing?” I ask carefully.
“We’re putting these on.”
“No, we’re not,” I say.
“Yes, we are.”
I huff an annoyed sound but take the shirt when he offers it to me. I won’t deny this is funny. I could use a little fun in my life, I think. Let loose a little.
From the corner of my eye, I take in Lane’s toned arms as he searches for the bottom of his shirt and gets his arms in.
I try not to make it obvious that I’m staring, but the man is very good looking.
I thought it from day one. Clothed. Unclothed.
Demanding. Laughing. He’s an attractive guy, there’s no getting around it.
He, on the other hand, doesn’t hide the fact he’s staring when I change my shirt.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “I haven’t heard that since grade school.”
“You remember that far back?”
“What did I tell you about that mouth of yours?” His tone darkens just slightly, and I have to look away.
I recall exactly what he told me about my mouth. It only makes him want to tease me more. Only, this feels a little more heated than regular teasing.
I hate it, but I can’t deny that I like it too. His attention isn’t terrible. And look… we’re having fun.
“What now?” I hold my arms up and drop them. “Now that we look like idiots.”
“I take offense to that,” he says as he puts the car in gear. “We’re going to get lunch.”
“I don’t think any of the restaurants you’ll want to go to will let us in looking like this.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, and I recall last night when he praised me for finding a place that served chocolate cake so good it made his top five list. The man keeps a list of the places he’s had the best chocolate cake. How weird is that?
Weird in a quirky, kind of endearing sort of way.
When we pull into the parking lot of a burger place, I almost keel over.
“Are you at the wrong place?” I ask.
“I’m exactly where I need to be.”
He shuts the car off and gets out.
So I do the same.
We eat outside, under the sun that’s slowly making its way downward. I hadn’t realized how much time we spent shopping or driving. It’ll be sunset soon enough.
Waves crash against the dock a short distance away, the seagulls squawking as they fly around looking for food.
“Are you tired?” he asks when we’re finished eating.
“Not at all,” I admit.
“Good. Let’s walk.”
We find our way toward the boardwalk, neither of us saying a word, just taking in the calming sounds as we walk and walk and walk.
We pass couples and groups of friends. People walking dogs or chasing children.
It’s all very relaxing in a strange sort of way.
There’s nothing to do but be here and enjoy everything around me.
It’s oddly comforting. Being here with him, by the ocean.
“I knew I would miss the ocean,” I admit, hating that I’m saying it, but what’s the point of fighting it? Lane is showing me he isn’t the monster I think he is, and I don’t have anyone else here. No friends. No family.
And he’s right. I’ve been mean for no reason.
Well, I have a reason, but it’s not fair to him because it’s because of my own issues.
Without him, I don’t know where I would be right now, and he didn’t do that on purpose.
I mean, maybe he did, but he didn’t invite me in for the interview.
He didn’t bring me in and hire me because of what happened. That was all fate.
“It is beautiful,” he says, gazing out at the water.