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Meg stepped up beside her. “How long do you think we’ll be here?”
Callie bit the inside of her lip. Longer than a day, and realistically, it would probably be more than two. “I’m going to guess three nights but hope for two.”
“Hell yeah!”
Callie gave Meg a stern look. “Shhh. We can’t afford to pay for hotel rooms for an extended stay and expect to make money. We didn’t figure this in.”
She expected to keep all the expenses to what the regular price would’ve been so the extra Trent paid could be used for improvements or maintenance. That was the plan, and they’d try everything to stick as close as possible to that plan.
“Vacation. Tequila. Sand.” Meg twirled on her champagne-colored espadrilles, ignoring everything Callie had just said.
Jonathan pushed by her toward the storage locker in the galley. “Have you looked outside, Megatron? I’d think that sand thing is a no-go.”
Meg stopped and stared out the window with a pout on her lips. “Party in the hot tub inside the hotel then.” She always had Plan B ready to go, probably one of the things that made her a good Marketing and Sales manager. Twists and turns never got her down. She just put on a pair of heels and danced her way out of the situation with a better idea.
Thank God Callie’d forgotten her swimsuit. That was always Plan A for her. No one needed to see her smooshed into Lycra anything. She didn’t camouflage her curves, but she chose not to flaunt them. Although one man in the room had firsthand—actually, hands on—knowledge of those curves. Callie prayed Liam had a bad memory and her recollections of that bulge in his pants might vanish like fog on a summer morning.
Meg continued without a breath, forcing Callie from her thoughts, “Cal, I called ahead and had clothes delivered to our room. Jonathan and Paul can figure something out, and Liam brought a carry-on that has clothes in it. He loaned me this shirt.” She modeled the knotted at her hip grey t-shirt. “I think we’re good to go.”
Why Meg had needed a change of clothes wasn’t Callie’s first issue with the announcement, even though somewhere inside of her stung with what she might call jealousy, but she’d ignore it to face the real problem with the declaration.
“We can’t be spending money like this, Meg.” They had to be fiscally responsible. She wouldn’t mishandle the money her father had worked so hard to earn.
“No worries. I talked to the hotel manager. He’s a friend of a friend of a friend…” Which meant he wasn’t anything to her at all, but somehow a pleasant and congenial verbal interaction meant everything to Meg.
Meg pushed on Callie’s shoulder. “Stop rolling your eyes.”
She hadn’t even realized she was doing it. “What did this friend-three-times-removed say, Megatron?” Callie liked Jonathan’s nickname for Meg. Even though she was a tiny human, her bold actions outweighed her in size, and she could change a mind when needed.
Without even hearing the story, Callie realized that the resort manager never knew what was coming at him. Meg had a way of making a person think a decision was theirs, but it was really a done deal once she made up her mind about what she wanted and desired. Like when they’d been determining a location for the airline. After a four-hour, margarita-aided presentation from Meg on the benefits of being in a Midwest locale with an international airport, and a larger population and businesses base than their childhood town of Omaha, Nebraska, Callie accepted Meg’s conclusion. To optimize Hera’s flight offerings and ability to be anywhere in just a couple of hours—they needed to move. Denver seemed like the logical and smart fiscal choice. Didn’t hurt that the move corresponded to her and Trent’s breakup and Callie’s desire to get out of town.
Meg batted her long blonde lashes. “He gave us a fantastic deal, if we put their logo on our website.”
“Meg! How could you?” Callie’s pride for that website came blaring through. It was a “three bottles of red and one bottle of white wine weekend” creative masterpiece between the two of them. Man, they sounded like alcoholics, but they really weren’t. They were sisters without ancestry, as close as the blood kind. The thought made Callie smile, but this was a step too far. “No. We have to keep the site clean, and sponsorship looks cheesy.”
“As the Director of Marketing, I already made the executive decision and put it on there.” Meg pulled out her phone and on the “About Us” page, down in the very left-hand corner, there was what looked like a misplaced period. With a diagonal swipe of two fingers, the screen enlarged and the logo for La Colinas Verde appeared.
Callie’s amused smile at her friend’s cleverness wiped away as she saw the fine print on the logo. “That’s a five-star resort!”
“For a two-star cost,” Paul interjected quickly. “Meg did her fancy—and flirty— tête-à-tête and voilà, Señor Munoz at the concierge desk was practically licking her feet.”
“I do what I do.” Meg slapped a beach hat the size of Saturn and all its rings on her head.
“How? Where…” Callie couldn’t form a sentence at the vision. It seemed her friend almost came prepared. “The hat?”
“Before we left Denver, I checked the forecast and made a little deal with Mother Nature. I wanted a vacation. She wanted landfall.” She shrugged. “It was a mutually beneficial agreement. Now I’m making a deal with Hera that she blow that sucker back into the Gulf, in about three days, so we get four nights in Monterrey and not the two you’re wishing for.”
“You are unbelievable, Megatron Gilberto.” Callie tried to Spanish-up Meg’s name, but only one person laughed…
The tic-tac-toe titleholder behind her.
6
Liam
Liam chuckled at Callie’s nickname for Meg. The fireball of a petite woman was adorable under that massive hat, but Liam didn’t really see anyone but the curvaceous woman in front of him. During her little falling incident, he’d tried to be a gentleman, but he wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off. His body had betrayed his chivalrous intentions.
Right now, he had other things to worry about. The call with his sister had left him confused and mostly bewildered at what was happening back in Omaha. She had to be wrong. The burden of the information settled deep, and he rubbed the back of his neck to take away some of the tension. He really needed a massage, but the spa was probably closed at the hotel. If it weren’t, he’d be there first thing in the morning to make an appointment.
