He scratched the back of his head, his nose scrunching in an absurdly endearing way as he thought it through. “The hotel is a no, right?”
I grimaced. “It’d be weird.” I was on friendly terms with half the staff and could already picture the looks, the questions. And wasn’t there some rule about not dating guests?
“So no hotel room,” he said.
My stomach dipped at the way he’d phrased that.
That little grin was back. “What about your place?”
“Oh—really?”
He shrugged, bouncing slightly on his feet. “We’ve been out in the sun all morning. We could go there, talk. A shower would be nice too.”
Oh. Right. Reasonable. Although…
“You’ve got a full house?” he guessed correctly.
“Not really. Rory might still be there, but everyone else is working.”
“Perfect,” he said. “We can order in. I’m starving.”
I grinned as we picked up our boards and started toward the parking lot, sand still clinging to our ankles. “I can cook, you know.”
“Yeah?” His eyes lit up. “You’re going to cook for me, Chef?”
Heat crept up my neck that had nothing to do with the sun. “Yeah, I’ll cook for you.”
He slowed just enough to really look at me, that intense, curious stare settling back in. He shook his head a little, letting out a sound that was half laugh, half frustrated groan.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He pointed ahead. “Is this your car?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be right over.”
I grabbed his board, getting both of them up and strapped across the roof while he jogged off. Once they were secure, I wrapped a towel around my waist, stripped out of my wetsuit, pulled on my shorts, and tossed the damp gear into the back before climbing inside. The air was thick and warm, still faintly scented with salt and sunscreen. I cranked the AC, tossing a dry towel over the seat for him.
A moment later, the passenger door opened and slammed shut, and suddenly he was right there beside me—close enough that I could still feel the heat radiating off him. He dragged a white T-shirt over his head, the cotton clinging to his damp skin, then leaned back in the seat and set his bag on the floor. “Ready.”
I put the car in drive, checking the mirror as I pulled out. “It’s about a half-hour drive.”
“Cool,” he said, his hand drifting to the radio.
The drive back felt entirely different. My stomach was still spinning, but for new reasons now. Danny hummed or sang along to whatever played between us, breaking off now and then to smile in my direction. Wind rushed through the open window, ruffling his hair as his sun-kissed skin glowed in the light. He seemed relaxed, even as he kept shifting everyfew seconds, that restless energy was clearly part of who he was—not just nerves.
When I pulled into the parking lot, self-consciousness crept back in.
The apartment was clean—there was no way it wouldn’t be, considering what we did for a living—but it was modest. Housing near the resorts wasn’t exactly generous on our salaries, especially at our level. And Danny… well, he probably wasn’t used to modest. Not when it came to anything, especially where he stayed.
But when we walked in, he looked at ease. Those green eyes took everything in without judgment, just open, genuine curiosity.
“Give me a second,” I said, dropping my things by the door. “I’ll check if Rory’s still here.”
He nodded, that easy smile still in place.
I cracked our bedroom door as quietly as I could. The lump beneath the blankets told me everything I needed to know. Still out cold. I sighed silently and closed it again.
