a free one-night stay here at the hotel,” she said a little breathlessly. “There aren’t any available rooms until two weeks from now. I hope that works?”
I blinked down at the envelope before I looked up at her, shocked. “Katie, I think this is a little extravagant. All I did was drive you twenty minutes down the road. I’d have taken a cup of coffee or—”
“I wanted to do something nice and I have the power to do this.”
“I wasn’t finished,” I said.
She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Go ahead.”
“I also would have taken a chance to go for a drink together,” I said, surprising myself with my own boldness. “I know you’re busy, but I could use a friend on the island. You know, someone who could tell me what to do and what not to do and introduce me to some folks.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
I stared at her and she stared back.
I cleared my throat. “Tomorrow night. Deal.”
“Meet me at The Wreck at eight.” Katie put her hand on my good shoulder and squeezed lightly. “See you then. Thanks again for the help!” She turned from the truck and hurried back up to the front doors, pausing to look back and wave as I pulled away.
The Wreck at eight. Was it a restaurant? I assumed so.
As I made my way back to my cabin, I replayed the events of the afternoon in my head, tracing the memory of her smile and the way her nose crinkled when she laughed.
Is this what I’m running toward? A girl?
Chapter 8
Katie
Ginny lounged on my king-sized bed with her chin propped up on her hands and her ankles crossed behind her. She swung her legs and flipped through a magazine splayed open in front of her while I wrapped half-inch strands of my hair around my curling rod and singed my fingertips repeatedly.
“Ouch,” I hissed, shaking out my hand as I burnt my finger again. It had been too long since I bothered to put in this kind of effort where my hair was concerned. On work days, I’d brush it, tie it up in a tight bun, and spray it down with hairspray until it was smooth and stiff as hell and most certainly not going to budge an inch.
But tonight was different.
Tonight would be the first date I’d gone on in almost two years.
My professional life didn’t leave much room for courting men or being courted by them. Normally, I would have blown a guy like Peter off. But there was something so disarmingly charming about him that when he suggested drinks I leapt at the offer.
“So what does this guy do for work?” Ginny asked as she tore her green gaze from the pages of the wedding magazine she was poring over.
“I don’t know actually.”
“How old is he?”
I bit my lip. “Not sure. Maybe thirty?”
Ginny frowned and sat up, tucking her legs under herself. “Where is he staying?”
“Also don’t know.”
“Do you know anything about this guy you’ve agreed to go on a date with?”
“I know he’s nice,” I said. “And he makes me laugh. And he’s really cute. I mean like really cute.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like Roman.”
As if on cue, Roman strode into my suite. He had an ice bucket in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He walked purposefully to my dresser, where four champagne flutes stood, and began filling them up.
He shot a dark look at Ginny. “Were you trash talking me to our boss?”
“No,” Ginny said innocently. “I was calling her shallow.”
“Oh.” Roman giggled delightedly. “Well in that case, carry on.”
I smiled as I doused my hair with hairspray and some dry shampoo for texture. I scrunched and messed up the curls until I was satisfied with the rather wild, beach-hair look. I spun around in my chair and accepted the glass of champagne from Roman, who looked me over from head to toe and back down again.
“Damn girl.” He whistled. “He must really be cute for you to go to all this effort. Are you wearing eyeliner?”
Blushing, I took a sip of champagne. “Maybe.”
Roman passed Ginny her glass of champagne and perched himself on the end of the bed beside her. “You gonna fuck him tonight?”
“No,” I said sharply.
Ginny gestured at him with an air of exhaustion. “I need a raise, Katie. Do you see what I have to put up with?”
Roman dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Prudes, the pair of you. How