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I skewered him with a glare. “What’s the bet?”
He smiled for real now, and I rolled my eyes at myself. I’d had to go and take the bait.
Even with his ice bucket under his arm, he managed to rub his hands together. This was familiar territory. Final Jeopardy. We’d challenged each other all our lives. Until he took himself out of the game.
“I bet you I can list the exact contents of that bag.” He nodded to the canvas bag hanging from my shoulder. “Every single item.”
I raised my chin, considering.
He hurried on. “If I can, then you have to have dinner with me.”
I turned away. “I already have plans for dinner.”
He shuffled closer. “An hour then. An hour of your time spent in my company.”
“What do I get if I win?”
His smile stretched wide. “Anything you want.”
I hugged my ice bucket tighter. “That makes it difficult. You don’t have anything I want.”
The light dimmed behind his eyes, and his smile fell away. I turned to leave and pretended I didn’t feel a tug—something dragging me back. But I ignored it. I wouldn’t stay.
“Dark chocolate caramels, a bottle of pinot noir, and a tin of mints. Am I right?”
When I didn’t answer, he nodded to my ice bucket. “Did you know you’re the only person I’ve ever met who drinks pinot noir chilled? Hence the ice. The dark chocolate caramels are because you love to drink while eating one and you think that the most delicious dessert in the world is cold pinot noir and dark chocolate caramels melting on your tongue at the same time, even though it is nowhere near a recognized dessert. And mints because you can never resist buying them at the checkout stand. Every checkout stand.”
I peered at him over my shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. “It’s really not any of your business.”
He was silent as I walked away. When I got back in my room, my door firmly closed and locked against all the dangers in the outside world and inside this hotel in particular, I unpacked my canvas bag—dark chocolate caramels, a bottle of pinot noir, and a tin of mints. I stuck the wine bottle in the ice bucket to chill.
Josh would’ve won. But I was through playing his games.
Chapter Eight
There was knocking on my door. Then there was shouting. “Come on, Margot! Open up! There’s a whole world out here!”
I quickly capped my mascara wand and let Isla in. “Shh!” I ushered her inside. “Get in here. You’re going to wake everyone up.”
“Lindsay and Troy are already awake.” She locked the door and peered out the peephole as if the hallway scene might have changed in the twenty seconds since she’d left it. “I saw him sneaking out of her room just now. They were kissing goodbye. She was in her pajamas.”
I shook my head. “It’s ridiculous that my parents insisted they have separate rooms.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
I returned to the bathroom counter to finish my makeup. “I think you’re in danger of losing some of your rebellious artist credibility. First the hair, then the insistence of seven thirty in the morning to take me sightseeing, and now thinking separate rooms is a sweet arrangement.”
She followed me and leaned against the bathroom door frame. “It is sweet. I own that. Old-fashioned. Getting married and going off together on their honeymoon Saturday should be different from what they’ve been doing all week.”
“You should be best friends with my mother. You sound exactly like her.”
“I wouldn’t mind. I love your mom. How’s she doing?”
“Terrible.”
At Isla’s surprised expression, I quickly amended. “Fine. She’s fine. It’s me. I’m the one who thinks she’s terrible.” I told her about all the stuff that happened with Lindsay’s wedding dress and the suspicions that were leveled against me.
She barked out a laugh. “What? Did they really think you’d do something like that?”
