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“We were just beginning to wonder if you were still coming. So good to see you again,” she said and leaned forward to air-kiss one side of Waverley’s face then the other before stepping back to stare at her with what might have been concern if the woman’s forehead had the ability of furrowing. “How are you doing these days, sweetie?”
“I’m doing great, Tracie. How about you and Ronnie?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. Wishing he’d take more time off to spend with me instead of working endless hours.” Reynolds closed the trunk, drawing Tracie’s attention. “And you must be Waverley’s latest squeeze.”
“Tracie, this is RJ Reynolds.”
Tracie sized Reynolds up, pausing at his feet, where Waverley just noticed he was wearing a pair of shoes from a brand that Spencer had highly coveted and that would say in a very understated manner that he belonged here. She met his gaze, giving him a subtle nod of appreciation for his attention to detail that she supposed would be essential for someone in his line of work.
Tracie held her hand out to him. “Nice to meet you, RJ.”
Reynolds set the luggage down and took her hand. “Nice to meet you. Quite a place you’ve got here.”
“Thanks. I swear sometimes it’s more hassle than it’s worth. My in-laws actually own the place, but these days they barely leave their home in Atlanta, so it’s become a sort of home away from home for Ronnie, me, and the kids.”
“Are the kids here for the weekend?” Waverley asked, remembering twin girls who had been eight last time she’d met them and who were already showing promise as mean girls in training if their pranks and tantrums were any indication. The six-year-old boy, Taggart, had been harder to get a read on since he’d hid in his room—likely out of a sense of self-preservation from the terrible duo.
Tracie waved her hand. “They’re off somewhere. But don’t worry. The nanny will entertain them this weekend so we can all catch up and relax. Now, why don’t I take you two to your suite so you can get settled in. Did you need any assistance with the luggage?”
Reynolds easily scooped up his bag and Waverley’s luggage and carried them under one arm. “I’ve got it.”
Both women stared at the strength in his arm as he held the weight with little effort.
“Right,” Tracie said, visibly distracted. “Then follow me.”
Foregoing the grander front entrance, Tracie led them across a terrace that ran along the side of the house before stepping inside through a set of French doors and then up a flight of stairs. Waverley noticed they were heading down a hallway that was the opposite direction of the suite where Waverley and Spencer usually stayed.
“We recently renovated some of the suites, so you might notice a few changes from the last visit, Waverley. I also moved you to the north wing since I didn’t think you’d want to stay in yours and… well, your old room. I trust that after all these years of coming here, you’ll still be able to find your way around.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out, thanks.”
Tracie reached a room at the end of the hall and stopped at a double set of doors that she pushed open. “Here we are,” she said, walking in.
The first and only thing Waverley noticed was a giant-sized four-poster mahogany bed that dominated the room.
Her cheeks grew warm at the implications of what ordinarily would be taking place on that bed—you know, if this whole relationship wasn’t fake. She looked around for a couch like the one that had been in her and Spencer’s usual suite but only spotted two leather chairs over by the patio doors. She cast a quick glance Reynolds’s way to see how he was processing this development, but his face was neutral, per the usual.
Tracy tossed her hair over a shoulder as she followed their gazes around the room as if checking that everything was in place. “It’s a little smaller than your old room, but I think you’ll enjoy having more privacy since there is only one other couple sharing a suite on this end. Porter and his new fiancée should be arriving in the next hour, and we’re all dying to meet her. She’s apparently from some Midwestern state with style as Midwestern as her accent,” she said and snickered.
So Reynolds wouldn’t be the only one under the magnifying glass.
“Do you two need anything before I go?” she asked.
“No, I think we’ll be good, Tracie,” Reynolds said as he casually rested an arm over Waverley’s shoulders.
Tracie nodded. “Oh, and for tonight, I thought we’d keep things low-key with dinner served poolside followed by dessert and drinks on the beach. Tomorrow we can go out and do some snorkeling and boating before heading into Key West for shopping, dinner, and dancing. Now, get settled in and then come and find us. We’re all looking forward to catching up.”
Waverley exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when the door shut behind Tracie.
Then her gaze settled on that stupid bed again.
“I’m more than happy to take the floor,” Reynolds said, following her gaze.
“I’m so sorry. Our other suite had a sofa, so I guess I just assumed they all did. You’re sure you won’t mind?”
Reynolds walked around the room, inspecting the space. “Believe me, it will be an improvement from what I slept on the last couple of nights.”
That was easier than she expected. She nodded. “Okay then. I’m going to change really quick. Did you need to use the bathroom first?”
