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She smiled at him playfully, bit her bottom lip and nodded. “That, I can do.”
Hours later, they pulled up to the entrance of The Pines. It was off a long, straight road, a tiny wooden sign the only clue of its existence. Colt slowed gently, glancing at his rear view mirror to ensure no one was on the road and watching them turn off. No, it was empty, dusk had fallen, it was almost dark.
They were later than intended, they had taken a longer route, avoiding the highway. Colt didn’t want to moan but his shoulder was hurting, his legs were stiff, he wanted to get the fuck out of these pants. They had no give in them, he felt restricted. The neck of his polo felt tight. He wanted to get naked, get April on her back in bed and fuck her into oblivion. Then maybe have a bath and fuck her again. That’s what he wanted.
The sound of the van changed as he turned onto the gravel drive, tires crunching. He took it slow.
She was twirling something shiny on her finger. A ring. He’d just bought it for her in the town they’d driven through on their way to the Pines. Colt had seen the little jewelers on the main street and slammed on his brakes. April complained, of course, until she realized what he was doing. He parked the van haphazardly outside the store and strolled in like he owned it. The shop assistant flicked his gaze over Colt and frowned, unsure of what to make of him. Colt had taken it all in stride though, by walking up to him, pulling out a wad of cash, slapping it down on the counter and telling him he wanted to see engagement rings. The man lifted an eyebrow but hurried into sales mode, unlocking cabinets to get out rings. Colt had turned to her with a wink and a melting smile, and said, “Pick one, Kitten, and it’s yours.”
And she had, gleefully, picked a cute halo diamond, gold band. He nodded his approval, the clerk whisked it away, checked sizes, and popped it in a little black box. Colt had pushed the pile of cash over, picked it up, taken it out of the box again and given it to her. He told the clerk to keep the box. April slipped it over her finger and smiled up at him. He’d smiled back, knowing that she wanted it to be real. He smiled back because he wanted it to be real, too. They left the jewelry store, jumped back in the van and got on the road again. They sat in comfortable silence until he pulled onto the road to the resort. April twirled the ring around her finger, thinking he couldn’t see her doing it. Trying to act nonchalant. But he knew.
Now they drove up the dark driveway at a crawl. She peered ahead, leaning forward, to get a glimpse of the place. “Nice and discreet,” April said beside him. “I guess that’s why it’s popular with celebrities.”
Colt peered out, too. Pine trees hemmed in the drive that was getting narrower and bumpier as they progressed. After a while they came to a barrier with a little booth beside it. A man in uniform scurried out. Security. Potentially a good thing, though it immediately made the hairs on Colt’s neck rise. It felt a little like prison. It wasn’t to keep them locked in. This was different, he told himself. He felt the need to run, to jack-knife the van around, put his foot down and get the hell out of there. But April would be so pissed off if he blew this. He pulled to a stop next to the gate and took a deliberate breath in and out again.
The security guard, a plump man of about fifty, with a dour face, signaled to roll down the window. Colt wanted to give him attitude, he could already tell the security guard thought the uniform gave him power. The power to be a dick, just like some of the guards in prison. Colt wanted to bring him down a peg, but again held back. He clenched his fist on the steering wheel.
Wisely, April spoke up across him at the security guard, who ducked to peer at her after flashing Colt a nice, judge-laden sneer. Fucker, Colt thought. “Oh, hi there,” April said, all sunshine and roses. The security guard mellowed immediately.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he replied with what he obviously thought was a kind smile.
April tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re a little later than we intended, we’re staying in one of the cabins for a week...”
“You have a reservation, ma’am?” the security guard replied, then eyed Colt again, mistrust in his eyes. The polo and chinos clearly couldn’t mask the blatant disrespect and the desire Colt had to punch him in the throat. Colt grinned and cracked his knuckles. April ignored him, turned on her brightest smile, and leaned over a little further. Colt realized the fucker could see down her now gaping shirt. He set his jaw as the guard’s eyes lingered longer than was polite.
“Yes sir, of course we have a reservation,” April chirped.
“Check in time was an hour ago.”
Colt clocked his name badge. Dwight. Prick name. Any name he had would have been a prick name in Colt’s book.
“I know, I’m sorry-”
“I’ll have to check in with the manager...”
Colt ground his teeth as the man made a big deal out of getting his walkie talkie off his utility belt. He turned from them as if he were dealing with some sort of spy shit.
“For fuck’s sake,” Colt muttered under his breath.
“Play nice, Colt,” she whispered back in a low warning, still wearing her spotlight smile.
“I could just deck him and ram through the barrier -”
“Oh yes, we’d definitely be allowed to check in late then, wouldn’t we? God, we’d probably be upgraded to the luxury suite,” she whispered back scathingly.
Colt growled. She was right, of course. Play nice, he repeated in his head, play nice.
Dwight turned back, obviously having had the all clear, and instructed them to proceed through the barrier. Colt wound up the window with a smug smile, just about held in the desire to wind his middle finger up with it, and drove through the now open barrier.
A sprawling wooden cabin, low lit from hidden lights under the pine tree fronds came into view as he swung the van around to the front. It wasn’t a rough, rustic little cabin, it was weathered but expertly cut planks and expensive looking. Huge floor to ceiling windows with black frames. Very new-age chic.
Colt got out and slammed the door. His own feet, in those leather boat shoes, caught his eye. He couldn’t wait to get naked.
April joined him and together they strolled into the lobby.
“Good evening, good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Black.” A gray haired, older man came forward to shake their hands. Colt gripped the man’s limp, cold hand with his own large, calloused, warm one. His tattoos laced his arm to his wrists, and he caught the man eyeing them. Colt watched closely as he shook April’s hand, too, gently, almost with a caress. Was everyone who worked here a dick?
“So happy you made it, you must have had a long drive,” he said, sounding smarmy.
