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I might lean in the tiniest bit. I might also let a bit of Georgia slide around my words like silk when I say, “Why, you’ll ruin our reputation, of course.”
Damon tips his head back with a laugh that zips through the center of my body, straight down to my toes. I scrunch them in the sand, barely resisting the urge to kiss his smiling lips.
“Let me walk you to your hotel.”
My eyes bulge, heart hammering away. If I was smart, I would have told him to scram twenty minutes ago. But I can’t quite think straight when it comes to Damon.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” I say.
I’m sorely underprepared to answer the questions he’s bound to have after what I’ve confessed.
“Why not? If it’s too far, I can call you a cab.”
Nervousness cramps my belly as I start to fumble. “No, no. That’s not necessary. It’s not much farther, and I’m sure your friends are wondering where you’ve gone.”
I can see the sign for Seashell Inn from the edge of where the beach meets a mostly barren parking lot. One of theLs is burned out, hanging on to the rest of the sign by a thread.
Damon’s face hardens a touch. “If you’re thinking I’m trying to sleep with you, I can assure you—”
“Ohmygod, no.” I wave my hands, ears burning at the mere implication of Damon and I falling into bed together. “That’s not it.”
I grimace when his questioning gaze slides to the weatherworn, dilapidated motel behind me.
“Tell me you’re not staying there.”
Dammit. Guess I really am a glutton for punishment.
“Me? Stayingthere?” A nervous laugh bubbles its way up my throat.
“Kate,” he says with a touch of authority.
“Fine, okay. Yes, I am staying at Seashell Inn. But it’s honestly great, and more importantly, it’s cheap.” I push past him to the pavement and slip my sandals back on.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Just because I have money doesn’t mean I can’t save a buck or two.”
He follows after me, grumbling inaudibly.
We make our way around the back side of the motel and down a dark hallway lined with aged blue doors. Despite myself, I’m glad for his insistence on walking me.
I use the flashlight on my phone to guide us toward my room.
“I cannot believe you would willingly choose to stay here,” he hisses, eyeing the cracked exterior and rusty hinges.
“See? We made it. Will you relax now?”
A shiver rolls his shoulders. “Not until I’m one hundred percent sure you’re not getting shanked before you get in there.”
“I’m not going to get shanked, Damon.” I freeze once I’ve unlocked the door and flipped the light switch up.
“What the hell?” The stale room I was in just this morning remains pitch black, and the stench of mold and something like old french fries burns my nose.
An elderly woman at the end of the corridor coughs on a cloud of smoke, making the two of us jump.
Grabbing the doorjamb, I poke my head back out in the hall. In the moonlight, I can just make out a pair of saggy, wrinkly arms as she pulls the cigarette from her mouth. “Power’s out.”
Excuse me?
