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Annabelle elbows my side with a grin and a waggle of her eyebrows as I turn to move away from the front desk. “Well, at least you aren’t sharing the same building as me and Ethan. Your sensible ears will be spared.”
“Gross, Demon-Doll.” I make fake gagging sounds as she giggles. She really doesn’t need to remind me of how loud she is with her fiance. I have PTSD from the last time I stayed at her house.
I vaguely tune in to the conversation behind me, which is getting mildly frantic. The attendant’s fingers are flying across her keyboard, her brow furrowing. “I sincerely apologize, but I’m unable to find reservations under any of your names.” Her voice lilts with rising panic.
“The company must have gotten the location wrong when making reservations,” Wyatt interjects politely, “Perhaps there are other vacancies we could inquire about instead?”
But as the attendant anxiously searches, her face falls further. “I’m so sorry, but it appears we are entirely booked. With the wedding guests, there are simply no other rooms.”
Just as I’m contemplating the nightmare of telling my mother about this–who will view this as a personal slight against her guests, since she planned this entire thing–her commanding voice rings out. “There you all are! We’ve been waiting.” I wince as she appears, dramatically kissing both my cheeks.
“Now, what’s all this fuss about no rooms?” My mother asks. Not waiting for a reply, she pats my cheek fondly. “Well it’s no matter. You three gentlemen can simply share Kathryn’s suite.”
“What?!” I choke out, shock robbing me of any eloquence. I gape at my mother, this outrageous solution short-circuiting my brain. I feel the weight of multiple stares at my back as the men all focus on us, making me both twitchy and way too overheated.
Oblivious to my horror, she smiles indulgently. “It’s a penthouse, plenty spacious for you all. And it has a divine open-air Jacuzzi! You’ll love it.”
Turning to the men, she says brightly, “I’m sure since you’re dating and all, you won’t mind keeping her company in the suite.” Her tone brokers no argument, even as her gaze flicks to me with a rare glint of approval shining in her eyes. I can’t be the one to ruin that. Dammit.
A tense beat passes where I pray one of them will object, but then Wilder laughs–the sound shooting straight to my gut and I turn to look as he says, “Anything for our future mother-in-law!” Wyatt and Emrys both reluctantly nod, clearly just as thrown as me, but unwilling to cross my mother. Not that I truly blame them for that.
She’s a terrifying woman.
With the matter decided, a bellhop escorts our rather large group to the penthouse as my mother and Annabelle regale the men with some of the activities that we will be taking part in throughout the week. Shocked into a stupor, I follow them into the elevator and just silently stand in the eye of the storm. Yet, despite being surrounded by the chaos and awkward tension, I have no problem noting every twitch of movement from the guys, every deep chuckle or word that leaves their mouths, and every second of their weighted gazes as they flick over to me.
When the elevator finally stops at the top floor, the door slides open, and the opulent suite that comes into view stuns me even further into silence. I’m not a stranger to some of the finer things in life, being as successful as I am, but I’ve also never really bothered to go anywhere outside of my work and my home.
My mother claps excitedly. “See! It’s perfect. Plenty of room.”
I step out of the elevator into an expansive open-concept living space with floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass doors providing breathtaking panoramic views of the azure ocean and sugar-sand beach. The furnishings are sleek yet comfortable, with plush white couches and chairs surrounding a massive flat-screen TV mounted above an electric fireplace. To the right is a top-of-the-line gourmet kitchen and dining area that could easily cater a celebrity chef event.
Awed by the amenities, I wander outside, the doors sliding open with ease, and letting in a gentle breeze of salty warm air. There’s a private heated infinity pool with in-water lounge chairs, that continues to the edge overlooking the sandy beaches below. The large patio area is surrounded by swaying palm trees in large, beautiful, in-ground planters that provide shade on the lounge chairs and tables tactfully placed around the pool. A few steps away is a sunken hot tub built to provide stunning panoramic views while you soak.
I run my hands over the smooth marble of the wet bar, fully stocked with top-shelf liquors and wines that I will probably be indulging in as soon as I can. In the living area, another set of double doors leads to an impressive walk-in closet filled with empty hangers, plush robes and slippers. No luxury or indulgence has been overlooked in this lavish penthouse paradise.
Wandering back inside, I move through the set of large double doors opposite the kitchen side of the suite. The opulent master suite features a luxurious king-sized bed with the softest linens I’ve ever felt. Off of it is a spa-like bathroom with a glass-enclosed rainfall shower, jetted tub, and separate vanities. There’s even another walk-in closet with plenty of spare towels, robes, and toiletries.
I return to the bedroom, staring down at the bed, when a sudden voice has me jumping out of my skin. "Well, would you look at that," Wilder drawls, the amusement clear in his voice. "Seems they only gave us one bed."
I whirl around to face him and the others as the guys and Annabelle join me in the room, dread sinking my stomach lower than my pedicured toes. I open my mouth, then promptly close it. Annabelle barely contains her giggling fit as she waggles her brows at me. Oh, she's enjoying this way too much. I shoot her my best glare.
Before anyone can say anything else, my mother's voice rings out. "Well, we'll let you all get settled." She appears suddenly, clutching Annabelle's arm to steer her rapidly from the suite. "Oh! And don’t forget about the welcome dinner tonight. Outdoor dining area number three."
And then it's just us.
Me and the three Book-A-Boyfriend hotties.
Staring at the lone California king bed.
Chapter 8
Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit. This honeymoon suite situation just keeps getting better and better.
When I signed up to play pretend boyfriend for some rich city gal, I expected fancy resorts and frou-frou drinks with the little umbrellas as I suffer on the arm of some hoity-toity, stick-in-the-mud. But, finding myself intrigued by a feisty little filly like Kathryn Sharpe? Now that’s a rodeo I didn’t see coming.
After her mama and sis speed from the room, Kat eyes the three of us like we’re a pack of wild coyotes. “Well, I suppose you boys should draw straws for the couch,” she says crisply, her cute little nose all scrunched up.
“Nonsense!” I crow, plopping myself on the cloud-like bed. “What’s a sleepover without a good old-fashioned cuddle puddle?”
