Page 106 of Revv

I pull up the reservation on my phone and glance at Revel.

“Just so we’re clear, I booked this before I knew you were inviting yourself.”

“Okay?”

“Which means I booked one room. One bed.”

His grin appears instantly. “Sounds perfect.”

“No. It sounds like we need to go inside and see if they have another room or at least something with two beds.”

“Mama, I’m really not seeing the emergency here.”

“I am.”

“Because you don’t trust yourself?”

I slowly turn my head toward him.

He looks entirely too pleased with that question.

“I trust myself perfectly fine. I don’t trust your inability to behave like a normal person for more than twenty consecutive minutes.”

“Fair.” He glances up at the hotel. “But if they’re sold out, I’m not sleeping in the car.”

“You invited yourself. Sounds like a logistical issue you should’ve considered.”

“You’d really make me sleep outside?”

“I’d send you a blanket.”

“Cold.”

“Thoughtful.”

He laughs as he parks, then shuts off the car and looks over at me. “Fine. We’ll go ask. But if there’s only one bed, I’m calling it fate.”

“Ay, cállate.”

I grab my purse and get out before he can make one bed sound any more appealing than it already does.

His laugh follows me out.

The second I straighten beside the car, my lower back protests from the drive. I stretch carefully, hands pressed against my hips, and look toward the strip of ocean visible down the street.

The air smells different here. Saltier. Warmer somehow.

There’s sunscreen, fried food, and that humid coastal smell that immediately makes everything feel like vacation even when you’re technically here to work.

I could like Miami, which is a dangerous thought.

Revel comes around the back of the car and pops the trunk before I even get there.

“I can carry my own stuff,” I tell him as he reaches for the biggest equipment case.

“I know.” He gets both hands around it and lifts it out like it weighs nothing. “Pretty sure that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Carry the heavy shit, look pretty, be useful when required.”

I lean against the side of the Civic, watching his black T-shirt pull tight across his shoulders.