Never Got Over You

by Scott, S. L.

  No one-night stands with hot guys.

  No man-crazy crap anymore for me. I’ll leave that to Tatum. I need to focus on myself and my needs this time around. Exhaling, I’m set in my stance and start walking again. “Good night.”

  “Suddenly, it’s not feeling so good.”

  I turn back, too hopeful, considering nothing can come of this. Damn those dimples. I knew better than to look. “What isn’t?”

  “The parting ways thing we’re doing.” The smile disappears as he looks down, seeming to search the Saltillo tiles under our feet. When his eyes find mine again, he says, “I’ll see you around.” It’s not a question or an invitation. Just a statement put out there to settle in the air between us.

  “Look on the bright side. Next time, we won’t be strangers.”

  A light chuckle vibrates through him. “Yeah. Next time . . .”

  Nodding, I wave. “See you around.” We both turn away at the same time, heading in opposite directions—in the hotel and in life. Despite the burning desire to run after him, I don’t. Going our separate ways is best. I’ll order food and can start packing. Tatum will be back before I know it, then tomorrow, we’ll catch our early flight back to Manhattan.

  A quiet dinner.

  A glass of wine on the patio.

  Then to bed before we trek back home.

  There’s definitely no need to tangle a man into my plan and complicate my life. Who cares about dimples and scruffy jaws, sinful eyes and those big hands?

  Not me.

  Nope.

  I stop in front of the door, but instead of relief, panic sets in. “Oh, no.” Patting my back pockets, I search for anything that will get me into this room— the key, my phone, ID. I don’t even have money or a credit card. “No. No. No. No. No.” I slam my hands against the wood. “Ugh!”

  Tatum! Damn her.

  I carried our stuff this afternoon when she insisted a purse ruined the look of her bikini. Tonight, she carried mine since I didn’t have a purse that wouldn’t get in the way of our carefree fun. A lot of good that did me. It’s so out of the way it’s on a yacht somewhere in the harbor.

  A couple comes around the corner, drawing my attention with their laughter. I’m not exactly lost in the desert, stranded with no hope of finding civilization. But before I get wound up even more in that direction, I head for the front desk. I’ll be in the room in five, ten minutes tops. I rest my hands on the cold stone counter in front of an attendant, my gaze dipping to her name tag. “Hi, Uma, my traitor of a roommate took off for a yacht party, leaving me without a key to get into the room or even a phone to call her.”

  She smiles so sweetly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of that happening, but it usually ends with them losing the key in the harbor. The good news is I can help. Name and room number please?”

  “Natalie St. James. Room 351.”

  After tapping a few keys, she narrows her eyes on the screen. “All right. I see your name right here, Ms. St. James. I’ll just need to see your ID.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t have that either. See, it was my best friend’s turn to carry our stuff in her purse since I carried it to the pool.” Resting my arms on the counter, I laugh from the memory. “It’s actually very funny because we were out shopping for a little purse for me, but then we came across this bar, and if they put the straw hat on your head, you have to drink.”

  “Sounds like Later Gators.”

  I snap. “Yes, that’s the place. Anyhow, we’re sharing a suite, but the Vespa got a flat, and there were two guys so sweet and helpful.” Leaning forward, I whisper, “She went with Harrison to the party, and I returned to the hotel with Nick, though I hate two-wheeled anything. Although I didn’t hate being on two wheels with him. In fact—”

  “Sounds very eventful, Ms. St. James—”

  “You can call me Natalie,” I offer since we’re bonding and all.

  “I’m sorry, Natalie. I can’t give you a key without seeing ID. Is there anything else I can help you with today?” Despite straightening my back, my shoulders still fall under defeat as I stare at her like we’re speaking different languages, and I don’t have a translation app. Her smile never falters, though, making me suspicious. Suddenly, I don’t think she’s as sweet as she appears. She adds, “It’s hotel policy for the safety of our guests.”

  “But I’m a guest.”

  Her smile zips into a straight line, and then she holds her finger up when the phone starts ringing. “My apologies again.” She directs her attention toward answering the phone and turns a cold shoulder to me.

  Leaving the desk, I wander to the lobby lounge. I only stand there a moment before I not only feel out of place among all the couples but my stomach also growls, garnering unwanted attention—mine to be precise.

  When a certain man’s room number floats through my head, I begin to believe it would be perfectly okay for me to barge in on him. Would it? He did invite me, after all.

  Not two minutes later, I find myself standing in front of room 203. Staring at the san serif silver numbers, I take a deep breath, readying myself for battle. That’s what this will be—a war waged between what I shouldn’t do and what I really want to do. My hand is raised, and I knock three times before I can change my mind. The pinpoint of light seen in the peephole goes dark, and then the door swings open.

  Met with his welcoming grin, I shrug. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  5

  Nick

  “Don’t get any ideas.” I’m poked in the chest as she passes by, and then adds, “I won’t stay long.” That’s disappointing.

  “Come on in,” I reply sarcastically to the back of her head. Letting myself enjoy the view over my shoulder, I take in her body—the toned legs dipping out of her shorts and her obvious curves under that baggy linen shirt. “You won’t be here long enough for me to get ideas? Too late for that, sweetheart.”

  She tries not to give me the pleasure of seeing her smile, but it was worth the effort when she turns back and reveals it. “Tatum hasn’t returned, and she has the key. You don’t mind if I wait here, do you? You’re much more interesting than a lobby full of lovey-dovey couples.”

  “No problem. Lovey-dovey?” I kick the door closed and follow her into the villa’s living area.

  She stops and looks around before turning back to me. She tilts her head, her hair flowing in soft waves over her shoulder, and she smiles. “You know, making out, holding hands, kissing, dressed up for dinner or drinks. Basically, couples who look more like they’re having an affair than together for any length of time.”

  “Interesting observation and assumption.”

  “Listen, Nick. Real love is for fairy tales. I can name a dozen couples who make things work for financial reasons or emotional stability, for the kids, or to fight the fear of loneliness. They don’t put affection on display or make a production when their wife or husband enters a room.” She shrugs. I’m not sure if it’s a fleeting emotion of sadness or resignation I see cross her blue eyes, but it doesn’t belong there.

  “So what you’re saying is you’re a romantic?” I quirk a smirk and give her a little wink.

  “Yeah, I’m just waiting for my knight in shining armor to show up and whisk me away on his white horse.” She’s almost convincing by the longing heard in her tone and far-off gaze.

  “Where would you go?”

  As if the spell is still cast, she replies, “To our castle, of course, silly. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “We’d live happily ever after.” Her smile is lost under the admission as if a thief has stolen her joy.

  Leaning against a corner of the room, I cross my arms over my chest, finding it fascinating how animated she can be one minute and then introspective the next. “That’s very romantic for a non-romantic.”

  “What can I say? A girl can still dream even when her feet are planted in reality.” She cuts over to the bar and grabs a bottle of water. “Can I have this?
I can order more for your room later.”

  Although she’s already drinking it, I say, “It’s all yours, and what kind of host would I be if I made a guest restock the supply?”

  Natalie’s already moved on toward the terrace. “We have an incredible view from our room,” she says, “but wow, the ocean is endless on this side of the hotel.” Excitement colors her expression when she reaches for the handle of the oversized glass door. Over her shoulder, she asks, “May I?”

  “Of course. Make yourself at . . . well, it’s not my home.” I shrug. “But a home away from home.” She smiles. God, she has a great smile, and I’ve enjoyed every last one of them.

  “A home for a few days. Sorry for ruining it by interrupting whatever you were doing. First at the bar and now at the hotel. It’s almost like we’re becoming a thing.”

  “Guess we were meant to meet.”

  “So I could barge into your life three times? You’re very optimistic, Nick.” She slides the door open.

  “There was no barging either time.” Quite the opposite. “The last time, in fact, I held the door wide open.”

  “And you’re polite enough to give cover for a girl who can’t hold her rum.” She sends a wink my way before firing off a list of aggravations—stupid fashion, Tatum, purses, the hotel’s response—which solidifies my thought that, sadly, she didn’t come knocking willingly. Missing a few pieces to this puzzle, I ask, “Why couldn’t you get into your room?”

  “I’m blaming my ex-friend Uma for that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. I chuckle but bite my tongue. “Can you see anywhere on my body where I could possibly hide my ID?”

  She’s giving me permission to check her out, so that’s what I do.

  Slowly.

  Taking my time, I start at the top and let my gaze slide over her until I reach the bottom.

  Twice.

  By the second tour of her curves, she’s squirming a little, which makes me chuckle again. “Do you really want me to answer that, Natalie? Because that means I need to check every inch of you.”

  “You mean again? Because you just did it twice,” she whips back, but I also catch her blushing. I wouldn’t mind touching those cheeks to see how soft and warm they really are. She waves her arms, and then her energy deflates and they land hard at her sides. “Anyway, no ID. No room key. No phone. So, here I am.”

  Typically, I don’t rely on astrology or New Age beliefs, but she’s different from the other women I normally meet. I want to have sex with her. Sure, naturally. But I kind of don’t mind the lead-up, the foreplay to it with her. Smirking, I tip my head down and run my fingers through my hair.

  Okay, she doesn’t make a ton of sense, but she’s entertaining, nonetheless. The earlier far-off look in her eyes is now focused, the entire universe appearing to weigh down her shoulders as she stares into the distance, and she asks, “Think we can see the boat from here?”

  Keeping some distance between us, I rest my forearms on the railing, giving her room for the thoughts hijacking her attention. She leans far enough over the railing like she just might be able to touch the ocean. Or at least one of the boats in the harbor.

  “No. It was going to cruise around the island.” The distant break in the waves keeps my eyes captive until I look farther out to sea, my gaze reaching the cruise ships on the horizon.

  “Where are you from?”

  I turn to her. “Why so serious?” I’m given a shrug, so I ask, “Should we get to know each other, Natalie?”

  She laughs softly, turning her gaze my way. “We should, Nick.” The K crashes on the end of her tongue as if she’s just given in but wants to make sure I’m aware.

  I’m aware of her. All of her. She’s wholly entertaining but has so many layers left to unfold. “I’m from LA, but don’t hold it against me.” I chuckle, inwardly shaking my head at myself. I’m making a fool of myself. Why the hell did I say that? God, I used to have game. Where has it gone? Lost after years of having my nose buried in books.

  Angling my way, she says, “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

  “That can be dangerous.”

  A soft smile returns. “Especially when you’re tipsy.” She was definitely drunk, but I’ll give her tipsy now as she begins to sober. “I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves.”

  “No?”

  Shaking her head, she purses her lips. “What do you say we start over?”

  “I like our beginning.”

  This time, she laughs, and when the joy reaches her eyes, the blue sparkles like the ocean in the afternoon. The wind stirs her blond hair around her shoulders, and the layers seem to play favorites with where they fall. Her tan is deep enough to have settled into her skin long before her vacation. The delicate clang of the bracelets around her wrists reminds me of the wind chimes at my parents' beach house.

  Natalie is captivating—fine features highlighting a heart-shaped face. I journey from her eyes and then take a quick slide down the gentle slope of her nose anchored by full pink lips. Being in LA, I know women who’ve paid a lot of money for the natural beauty that Natalie possesses.

  A desire to kiss her surges through me, so I turn away, distracting myself with live music drifting from somewhere down below to quell the craving. It doesn’t work. I still regret not kissing her earlier. Don’t think about it. Just talk. “And you?”

  “I think we were born enemies. I’m a New Yorker through and through.”

  “Eh, there’s no East Coast versus West Coast rivalry here. New York has seasons. We have sunshine. You have the Yankees. We have Hollywood. Pros and cons to both. I guess it’s just what you’re used to.”

  “I love the beaches on the Pacific, but we have the Hamptons.”

  “You have Katz’s Delicatessen, but we have In-N-Out Burgers. It all evens out.”

  She scoots her foot over and taps the side of my shoe. “I’ve never had In-N-Out. Am I missing out?”

  “Yeah, you’re definitely missing out.”

  Sipping her water, she glances toward the setting sun before lowering the bottle and saying, “Maybe the next time I’m in LA, you can take me.”

  “It’s a date.” She’s shaking her head before the words leave my mouth.

  “Actually, I’ve sworn off dating, so let’s call it a meetup.”

  “You’re very specific with your no’s. No dating? No ideas. No—”

  “No sex.” She’s not snippy about it but more matter-of-fact. Then something comes over her, and she reaches over, resting her hand on mine like we’re old friends. “Sorry if that came out wrong. That was more of a reminder for myself.”

  Catching her hand before it retreats, I hold it between us. “Am I that tempting?” I lean over and whisper, “C’mon, you can tell me the truth.”

  Her head sways to the side and then returns to its rightful place, her eyes never leaving mine. “Honestly?”

  “Honesty is always the best policy.” Even the soon-to-be lawyer in me doesn’t believe that everything is so black and white. There’s a lot of gray area to rule out before picking a team. When she gently returns her hand to the railing and her gaze to the ocean, the missing connection is felt under my skin. She carries a world of emotions in the depths of her blue eyes, and I hate that the option to read them has been taken away.

  She nods.

  Grinning smugly, I nudge her. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re not so bad yourself, by the way.”

  She crosses the divide to poke me in the stomach, which makes me chuckle. I clench my abs to make it worth her while. Of course. She says, “I bet you say that to all the girls.” It’s not lost on me how a look of approval flashes across her face.

  I might have been enamored with her the first time I looked into her eyes but getting to know the real Natalie feels like a reward. That she’s comfortable sharing more about herself is the cherry on top.

  There are hints of her socialite status, something I’m familiar with back home, though she doesn’t appear to
carry her worries in bags around with her—designer or not. She’s opened her up in ways the rum hid prior. My stomach rumbles, and I rub my stomach. “I’m starved. I was about to order food before a certain someone barged into my room.”

  Laughing, she says, “And here you had me believing I’d made your night better.”

  “You did. So much better. I’m glad you’re here, Natalie.”

  She moves in such a seductive way, sliding her hand along the railing before she turns with the grace of a ballet dancer. “So am I.”

  Her eyes flash to mine, knocking the breath from me. If she can capture me with a look, I can only imagine what else she has in store for me. I clear my throat. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “I could eat. You left me craving—”

  “Touché.”

  “Ha! Actually, I was referring to the In-N-Out talk. I’d love a burger, cooked medium with all the toppings.”

  “Lettuce, tomato—”

  “Everything. Even the ones that cost extra.” Her little wink is cute, though the sassy side of it is more dominant. “Oh! And I want a mound of fries,” she says, demonstrating with her hands. “Not just a side. A whole plate dedicated to them.”

  I’m almost afraid to ask. “Anything else?”

  “Extra ketchup on the burger and for the fries. A soda—”

  “Let me guess. Large?”

  She nods excitedly. I can’t wait to watch her eat a meal that could feed a linebacker.

  “Got it.” I go inside and call room service. It’s then I realize that I’ve held the key to her presence in my pocket the whole time. What can I say? She’s very distracting. I find myself smiling while watching her nose around the terrace.

  When I hang up and fill the doorway, I debate for a hard few seconds, but I know telling her is the right thing to do. “I can call Harrison for you. He could let Tatum know you’re locked out of the room.” I regret the moment the words leave my mouth because, if I’m honest, I don’t want that. If she takes me up on the offer, she’d be gone before we have a chance to get to know each other. And I definitely want to get to know her better.