Chapter 14 Jonathan
Jonathan
This place is fucking epic. AJ and I just checked into the resort and grabbed our keys to the Sleepy Pine Cottage.
I made the executive decision to rent us a golf cart because the grounds are massive and with this unpredictable summer weather, I want us, okay, mostly AJ, to be comfortable and relaxed.
As if on cue, a line of golf carts pulls up out front with attendants hopping off like valet cowboys. I guess we weren’t the only ones with the same genius idea.
“Alright, everyone!” Victoria calls out, hands raised like a cruise director rallying her passengers for morning yoga. “Go get settled, explore the grounds. We’ll meet at the amphitheater for sunset happy hour at five, then head to the pavilion for dinner around six. Enjoy!”
I watch her and Marcus disappear into the main house, probably off to finalize tonight’s lineup of overpriced wine and forced team bonding.
I turn to AJ, grab her by the arm and pull her toward the golf cart like a kid who just found a ride at Disneyland.
“Hurry,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“Whoa. Okay,” she says, giggling as she hops in beside me.
I love driving golf carts. It takes me back to the weekends my dad used to sneak me onto his country club course.
That was probably the most relaxed and almost-human version of him I ever saw.
He’d let me drive while he kicked his foot up on the dash and rattled off his trademark pearls of wisdom; You teach a man to fish…
and other metaphorical nonsense he never actually lived by.
As I navigate through the winding gravel path, miraculously without hitting any colleagues or squirrels, I glance over at AJ. The wind’s blowing strands of her hair across her face and she’s trying to tame them with one hand.
“So,” I ask, “how are you feeling?”
She turns to me with a little squint against the breeze. “I feel fine.” Then, with a sly grin, she adds, “Nice move at the front desk.”
Ah, she means the arm-around-the-neck, kiss-on-the-head maneuver. Classic.
“I saw it in a movie once,” I say with a shrug.
She chuckles and slow claps. “Well, bravo.”
Just as I start to pat myself on the back, I catch movement in the rearview mirror, another golf cart barreling toward us like we’re in a scene from The Real Housewives of Corporate America. It’s Tanya and Elaine.
“Jonathan! Abby!” Tanya shouts, waving her arm like she’s flagging down a lifeboat.
I ease the cart to a stop and glance at AJ. Her expression? A mix of dread, disbelief and full-body bracing.
What now? her face practically screams.
“Ladies,” I greet as their cart practically sideswipes ours. “Can I help you before we’re all involved in a multi-golf-cart pileup?”
“You ask!” Tanya hisses, elbowing Elaine.
Elaine clears her throat and straightens the hem of her miniskirt like she’s about to deliver a toast at a sorority brunch.
“We were wondering…” she begins cautiously, “…if you two want to explore the area with us?” She says it like she’s bracing for a firm no and mild public humiliation.
“Sure,” I say.
AJ’s head snaps toward me. I suppose even I’m shocked by the words that just flew out of my mouth. I glance at her and wait. After a long beat, she shrugs. That’s as good as a yes in AJ language.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
“There’s this little beachfront area,” Tanya says quickly, like she’s afraid I’ll change my mind. “It’s got a zip line, some seating, trails… really cute. Thought maybe we could all check it out together?”
I glance around, half-expecting hidden cameras. Feels suspiciously like a setup. They definitely just want to spy on us being “in love.”
“Sounds sensational,” I say, slapping on a smile so big it might give me a cramp.
Tanya and Elaine squeal in stereo. “Yay!” Elaine says, clapping. “Let’s meet in like, an hour?”
“See you then,” I reply, throwing an arm around AJ’s shoulder as I drive us off.
Behind us, I can hear the synchronized “Awwww” from the cart of chaos.
“You are laying it on so thick,” AJ says with a laugh.
“If we’ve convinced Tanya and Elaine, we’ve basically won an Emmy,” I shoot back. “They’re like the office’s in-house lie detectors.”
She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Honestly? I think Marcus already believes it. Or at least, he doesn’t not believe it.”
Intrigued, I push a little. “Why would you think that?”
She hesitates, then admits, “He made a comment while we were in line at the front desk. Something about how I used to not like men who needed attention.”
I blink, processing that. “Oh,” I say. “And let me guess, I’m the attention-hungry man in question?” I throw a hand to my chest like I’m a Broadway diva preparing for her final bow.
She laughs and points at me. “You? No, never.”
“Well, if we’re handing out awards for attention-seeking tools, I think it goes to the guy who ghosted his own wedding before the vows.
But hey, what do I know?” I glance over at her, just to make sure the jab didn’t cut too deep.
We might be faking this thing, but I’m not trying to be an actual dick anymore.
She just shrugs. “Who knew you’d end up being the lesser of two evils?”
I chuckle. “Ha.”
We pull up to our cabin and damn, it’s a stunner.
Looks like it was plucked right out of a fairy tale, or at least a moody fall-themed Instagram feed.
A weathered stone chimney climbs up the side like it’s been standing there since the dawn of time, refusing to fall.
The roof’s blanketed in moss, like nature slowly decided to claim it back.
The logs are dark, stacked tight, probably creak like hell in the cold but hold in heat like secrets.
Nothing flashy. Just solid. Like it’s been here forever.
AJ gasps as she steps out of the cart. “This is amazing.”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing our luggage from the back. “Sorry you have to share it with me.”
“True,” she replies flatly, already annoyed.
“I’m sure they have two beds, right?” she asks, fully rhetorical and fully expecting me to know the answer.
“Probably.” I shrug, because I definitely don’t.
She reaches for her luggage, but I beat her to it. “Let me.”
“Thanks,” she says, giving me a small smile.
We step inside the cabin and, yeah, okay, it’s straight out of a Disney movie. White linen, soft throw pillows, floral knick-knacks on every surface and a lingering scent of jasmine that feels way too romantic for two coworkers fake-playing house.
I drop the bags by the door and wander toward the fireplace. It’s too hot out to light it, though it’s a nice touch. Maybe we’ll make s’mores later… if the night doesn’t implode first. I glance over at AJ, who’s already drifting through the space like she’s casing it for a heist.
“Jonathan!” she yells from the back room.
Oh no. That tone doesn’t scream we got lucky.
I head over and there it is. One bedroom. One giant, king-sized bed. No second room. No twin beds. No lifeboat of any kind.
“Of course,” I mutter.
She glares at the mattress like she can will it to divide in two.
I wander toward the bathroom, open the door. “One shower,” I call out. “One spa tub.” I peer in. “Nice. Big. Roomy. I mean, technically, we could… ”
“No way!” she yells before I can finish.
I grin. “I was going to say we could alternate. You shower, I soak. I close my eyes. Or vice versa.”
“You’re always trying to get women naked,” she fires back, already retreating into the kitchenette like it’s a safe zone.
“Not true,” I protest, following her like the emotionally unavailable golden retriever I apparently am.
She strolls over to the Keurig, picks up a ceramic mug and raises an eyebrow at me like, You want one?
“Yes, please,” I say, answering her silent question with a nod.
And then because I apparently enjoy circling back to my own embarrassment, I add, “Also, I don’t always try to get women naked.”
I settle onto one of the bar stools. The kitchen’s tiny yet charming, more cozy cottage than luxury lodge. There’s a full-sized fridge, three stools at the counter and a teal-colored toaster that looks like it belongs to someone’s sweet British grandma.
AJ pops in a K-cup and hits brew. Then she walks back over, leans on the counter across from me and tilts her head with faux innocence. “So… you don’t want to see me naked?” Her voice drops just enough to land somewhere between playful and criminal.
I feel an immediate shift in my pants. Dammit.
I swallow hard. Is this a trap? A hallucination? A very specific fantasy come to life?
“Is that a trick question?” I ask carefully.
She shrugs. One of those maddening shrugs that says maybe and you’ll never know all at once and even in her sexy, snobby-prep school outfit, the way she leans forward makes it very, very clear she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Her eyes flick to mine, then down to my mouth and she licks her lips.
I cough, shifting on the stool. Subtly adjust the situation in my pants, praying she doesn’t notice.
“Do you want to be naked in front of me?” I ask, my voice suddenly dipping a full octave below Alvin and the Chipmunks. Not exactly the tone I was going for.
She smirks, twirling a piece of her golden hair around her finger like she’s in a shampoo commercial. “What if I said yes?”
Beep. The coffee machine chimes and interrupts the mood.
Son of a bitch.
“Well,” she says, grabbing her mug with a dramatic sigh. “Guess you missed your chance.”
“Oh, come on. What the hell?” I groan, slapping my hands on the counter.
She laughs, clearly proud of herself. “Now you’ll never know. Because I’d rather drink coffee than show you my naked body.”
“Tease,” I mutter with a smirk.
“Takes one to know one.” She winks, tossing the used K-cup and popping in a new one for me. She’s still grinning as she backs away toward the bedroom. “Now I’m going to change. In the room. With the door shut.”
“How very inconsiderate of you,” I say.
She pauses in the doorway and eyes me. “Can I trust you? Or do I need to lock it?”
I give her a look. “After that little performance?”
She chuckles, turns and walks away; coffee in one hand, luggage in the other. I lean back on the stool to enjoy the view like a total creep. She glances over her shoulder and catches me and I whip forward so fast I bang my hand on the counter.
“Shit!” I shout.
She laughs, shuts the door and disappears into the bedroom.
And now I’m left sitting here, nursing my pride and wondering if she actually locked the door.