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I chuckle, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be OK.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then they’ll figure it out for themselves. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me all week?” I remind her gently. “That they’re grown adults, who can make their own choices. It’s not our place to interfere.”
Hazel scowls. “You can’t use my own words against me,” she grumbles, but she’s trying not to smile.
“It’s your fault for being so reasonable,” I tease. I lean in, and give her that slow ‘good morning’ kiss I’ve been waiting for. Hazel is tense in my arms, but then she exhales, melting against me. The kiss deepens, and damn, I could lose myself in her sweetness, falling deeper until she finally comes up for air: looking flushed, and breathless, and too adorable for words.
“Better?” I ask softly, brushing hair from her eyes.
“Better,” she agrees, with a tiny smile. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Always.
Soon,we pull up outside the other resort. It’s another luxury hideaway, modern and gleaming, and Hazel makes a beeline for the front desk.
“We’re looking for Avery Lawrence,” Hazel tells the clerk.
“I’m sorry, there’s nobody here by that name,” she says pleasantly.
I quickly step up. “It’s OK, we’re friends of hers. She called, and invited us over. We’re actually running late, so if you could just point us in the right direction?—”
“Miss Lawrence isn’t a guest here.”
“You didn’t even look in the system,” Hazel says, frustrated.
“Privacy is guaranteed at the Palms,” the woman replies, not breaking her vague smile. “Can I help you with anything else, or do I need to call security?”
“We’re fine,” I say quickly. “Thanks for your help. Have a great day!”
I steer Hazel away. “How are we supposed to find Avery if we can’t even make it past the front desk?” she despairs.
I look around. The lobby is busy, and Ms Helpful at the front desk is distracted by a group of guests. “Come on!”
Quickly, I pull Hazel down a side hallway, and deeper into the hotel. “Where are we going?” she asks.
“No idea,” I reply cheerfully. I follow the winding corridor until we emerge in a service courtyard. A bellhop is on a break, idly scrolling his phone. He looks up at us.
“I think I took a wrong turn,” I tell him. “Which way to the pool?”
“You want to go through that arch, take a right, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” I nod. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know, which is the best room in this place?”
“Oh, that would be the beachfront villa,” he replies. “Take a right after the pool. I think it’s occupied right now, but?—”
“That’s OK,” I’m already telling him, pulling Hazel after me. “Some other time!”
I head in the direction he pointed, walking fast before someone notices that we’re trespassing and kicks us both out. “I’d bet you a hundred bucks Avery demanded the best room in the place.”
Hazel smirks. “This wedding is worth ten thousands times that much, but good plan.” She grabs armful of towels from a housekeeping cart as we pass, and just like that, she looks like a hotel employee.
I can’t help but smile.The way this woman’s mind works…I lift a tray of dirty room service plates from a table, too, and continue out to the pool area. The place is packed with guests, sunning themselves, as we wind our way down towards the beach.
“Excuse me,” a guest tries to flag us down. “I’ve been trying to order a drink?—”
