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“Where’s Chris?” Jade asks once we’ve walked through the quiet first floor to the stairs.
“He’s probably in his studio. He’s been in there a lot lately; I think his writing is going well. We’ll see him soon enough, I’m sure.”
I show my friends their rooms—we like to share rooms to spend time together, so I put Jade with me and Emma and Tessa in the room next door—and tell them to freshen up for dinner.
Jade disappears into the bathroom, and I pull out my favorite little black dress. I haven’t worn it since Zoe was here and we went out to dinner. Tonight, we have a reservation at a bistro in one of the hotels, and then, apparently, we will be heading to the baths.
The bathroom door opens, and Jade emerges from a puff of steam, her long hair up in a tight bun to keep it dry, the gray streak peeking out from amongst the dark. I wipe the condensation off the vanity mirror the best I can and set to work on my hair and makeup. Jade joins me a few minutes later, and I zip up her dress for her.
“So,” she says as we both face the mirror and work on various makeup applications. “Last month, we got Emma a hook-up—albeit an absolute disaster of one. But you claim you aren’t banging Chris, so should we set you up tonight?”
“Are we picking out a man at dinner or a man at the bath?”
“Hmmm . . .” Jade ponders. “I suppose if we meet in the baths, you really know what you’re getting.”
We share a giggle in the mirror. “Pretty sure treating it as a hook-up meeting point would get us kicked out. We’d be those uncouth Americans.”
“Surely it happens, though. Not hooking up at the baths, per se, but what if you slip into the bath and across the way, you see your soulmate?”
I lower the mascara wand, and I stare at Jade. “Soulmate? Since when do you believe in soulmates?”
“I don’t,” Jade says quickly. Too quickly. “It’s just an expression.”
I hum and give her some side-eye. “Unlikely to happen tonight for any of us, I suspect. But just in case, we should have a signal. Wink once for hook-up potential, wink twice for your soulmate,” I tease.
“Shut up.” Jade laughs and nudges me.
Ten minutes later, we’re both ready, and there are voices coming from the hall, so I bet Tessa and Emma are too.
I slip on my favorite peep-toe heels and open the door. It’s not just Emma and Tessa’s voices that carry up from the stairwell, but I hear the timber of Chris’s voice too.
Jade and I are halfway to the stairs when I remember I’ve left my lip stain in the bathroom. “Shoot. I’ll be right down,” I tell Jade as I dart back to the room.
It takes me a minute to find it since I threw everything haphazardly back into my makeup bag, but soon I’m at the top of the steps while the ladies and Chris laugh at some joke.
Chris is in his usual outfit of lounge pants and a rock band T-shirt—not his band, of course—and Jade’s telling him a familiar story about her attempting to do yoga when her stomach wasn’t feeling well. He’s listening to her, smiling and nodding, when he catches sight of me.
And then we’re the only two people in the room. His face changes, going from gentle amusement to surprise to wonder and then . . . lust? I watch those dark eyes travel down my body, and a shiver shoots up my spine.
My friends’ chatter dies down, and a sudden bout of self-consciousness makes me stumble. I squeeze my eyes shut for two seconds and curse the fact that I, who have the strength and balance to do complicated yoga poses, can’t walk down a pair of stairs under Chris’s gaze.
When I open my eyes, I startle. Chris is right in front of me. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I say, a blush heating my cheeks.
“Those shoes,” he says, his voice fading to a whisper as he looks down. “Those shoes are beautiful.”
Someone clears their throat, and that breaks the spell. “Here,” Chris says, offering me his hand, “We can’t have you twisting an ankle on my stairs. My yoga lessons must continue.”
I slip my hand in his, telling myself that he’s just being nice and helping me down, but my stomach—and parts lower—flutter at the warmth and firm grip. I wonder briefly what the calluses on his hands would feel like on other areas of my body, and once I get to the bottom of the stairs, I clench my thighs together.
More stable this way, I think.
“Okay, then,” Tessa says. “Chris, lovely to meet you, and thank you for lending us your car and a place to stay.”
“You are welcome,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Call me if you need anything.”
The ladies are quiet as we leave the house—like the calm before the storm—as we pile into the car and four doors slam shut.
