by Lauren Dane
That made her giggle. “There’s always later tonight for that.”
“This sounds like a fine plan.” He bent his arm for her to take. “Come along now, wife.”
Which made her laugh and made him feel victorious to have her at his side.
* * *
“Ms. Dodge has a crush on you I think,” Wren told Gregori twenty minutes later as they finished ordering and settled at the table with drinks and some bread. “Not that I blame her. I mean, look at you.” She pointed at him with a roll before buttering it and handing it his way.
“Thank you. As I told the proprietress at the brothel museum earlier today, I’m very much taken and my wife is rather possessive. And sometimes scary.”
That woman, Bonita Clarke, had been about ten years older than Althea Dodge. Tiny with a head of white hair in curls, she’d taken a liking to Gregori immediately once he opened a door for her as she’d begun their tour. So much she’d even let them into some rooms the public didn’t go into very often and she also invited them into her kitchen since there was no one else around so they could have iced tea and cookies.
“A few states away from home and you’ve got women plying you with sweets everywhere you turn,” she teased him. “Nice when it ends up with tea and cookies for both of us so thanks for being so sexy.”
“It’s really not bad to be me,” he said, deadpan.
“You do okay, yeah.”
He snickered before taking a drink.
It was easy between them. They spoke when there was something to say—and Wren could be honest with herself and admit she thought there was something to say far more than he did. Their silence wasn’t uncomfortable at all either.
She loved being with him and always felt as if they were a team. United, though they may see things from different perspectives. It kept life spicy and interesting because no matter how quiet he was, he always had sex on his mind. He kept her satisfied and very busy and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
The food came and he began to tell her about a new painting he’d been thinking about. All her bits danced with joy as he described it. His process of creation was something she found ridiculously fascinating. It was so earthy and intuitive, totally second nature. Glorious and without a doubt, sexy.
“If you keep looking at me like that I’m not going to be able to get up to leave,” he said, breaking into her fantasies.
“Sometimes I watch you when you’re working and it’s three in the morning and you’ve got candles lit and you’re shirtless and in sleep pants hanging low, all your attention on a canvas. In the flickering light you look like an angel, or some other beautiful but scary creature come to life. So intense and intelligent as you pour yourself into your art. I want to get up and lick you. Urge you to come back to bed with me to satisfy that itch only you know how to scratch. But I keep still, savoring you like a secret.”
Gregori sucked in a breath at her words. Going hot all over.
Wren sighed wistfully. “Okay fine. I want dessert so I guess I can hold back all my sex appeal until after that death by chocolate thing is safely in my belly. Really, I’ll need the calories for all the ways I plan on debauching you once we get back.”
He really liked the way she thought. Especially because he really couldn’t stand up without the entire place knowing just how desirable he found his wife. And her suggestion that he get the fresh strawberry pie so they could share desserts didn’t hurt one bit.
A sky high slice of strawberry pie, complete with dollop of fresh whipped cream arrived on a plate with two forks, alongside a chocolate cake that looked so dense and rich his mouth began to water.
Wren held out a pinky and he acted like he was annoyed to clasp it with his own.
“I will always share my cake, sugary treats and champagne with you,” she said. “Pinky swear.”
“I am mad for you, kotyonok,” he murmured meaning it to his toes.
She smiled his way, a light of mischief in her eyes. “This is the best honeymoon I’ve ever had.”
That made him laugh. “Me too, beauty, me too.”
After a rather delightful dessert, he paid the bill and they left, hand in hand. Out on the sidewalk, the music from a nearby bar with its front door opened to the air was loud enough to ensnare them both.
Her hand had already been in his so he tugged, bringing her to his body, banding an arm around her waist. They swayed, slow dancing in the night air, the stars wheeling overhead though it was still not quite all the way dark.
He closed his eyes and breathed her in, listened to the music and the background pounding of his pulse. He’d been wrong about what he’d be working on next. No, after this moment, his next painting would be heartbeats and stars overhead, heat and comfort. All they were. All she was to him.
Foot traffic diverted all around them until she finally tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “I think we should go back to the inn and try out the bed. For research purposes.”
“Let’s go,” he told her, leading them toward the parking lot.
Back at the inn, they headed up to the third floor as quietly as possible so as not to alert anyone. Their lovely hostess would want to talk and have a drink or a cup of tea if she found them.
And as always, Gregori hungered for Wren though it had been only that morning when he’d had her last.
Like sugar and cake, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. And better than sugar and cake, she was calorie free and available in his bed every day.
Chapter Seven
As they entered the lobby of the hotel they’d be staying in that night, the sheer noise and chaos bristled against Wren’s nerves.
She took a peek at Gregori, who already wore an annoyed expression. They’d been on the road after a day of whitewater rafting and both were bone tired. She might have even been too tired for sex, but she doubted it after a quick glance at her husband and that delicious sneer got her a little tingly.
The road coming into the city had been backed up in a jumble of RVs, motorcycles, tour busses of all sizes and types and regular cars like the one they’d rented. Summer travel season slowed things down so it had taken a lot longer to get from the rafting place to the hotel than they’d planned.
And yet it had been an awesome day overall, even with a sunburn on her back and the shoulder she’d missed when putting sunscreen on. She’d smiled and laughed so much her cheeks hurt. Her calves were pleasantly sore from holding her place in the raft. Gregori was far more athletic than she gave him credit for as he threw himself into the day at her side. He’d known it would make her happy and he did it. And, given the way he’d laughed along with her, he’d had as much fun as she.
Wren looked up at him and smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist to hug him for long moments while they waited.
“You should take a pain reliever,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Take a shower and I’ll put more aloe on it so you won’t hurt.”
“Good idea. When we get in the room I’ll do that and drink a lot of water too. I don’t think it’s going to be that bad tomorrow. It’s just two spots. Thank goodness the life jacket covered up most of it or it might have ended with blisters.”
He muttered a little, clearly unhappy that she was in any sort of discomfort. Annoyed that he couldn’t just make it go away immediately. That made her feel better than any pain reliever could have.
“It’s my own fault,” she said. “Should have been more careful. I burn easy.” She shrugged. “I had fun today.”
“Never forget I wore a helmet for you. Let’s speak of it no more.”
Chuckling, she admitted, “You did have a look on your face at first. Like when I used to dress up the cat when I was a kid.”
He just looked at her without speaking for long moments. “Of course you dressed your cat.”
�
�Only when he felt like tolerating it. The dogs loved it though. Dogs are really pure.”
“Kotyonok.” He shook his head slowly, trying not to smile.
That made her giggle. “What? The dogs were just happy to be with me and if wearing a dress was the price, they did not mind paying. It’s actually a pretty good way to view life.”
He hummed. A noncommittal sound that echoed through his chest. Her father-in-law had a similar hum he made when talking to Gregori’s mother. Adorable.
Gregori saw her expression and frowned. The grumpier he got, the cuter she found it and he knew it, which was why he tried to erase the line between his eyes while she withheld an arched brow.
Not too long after when their line moved forward a little, he said, “This is an excessively long wait. Go back to the car and play on your phone while I handle this. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
“It’s only because you’re so sweet that I’m not flipping you off right now. I’m just fine right here with you. You smell good and you’re scary enough to get things moving if it comes to that.” Gregori was exceptional at getting people to do what he wanted them to do. Whether through charm or domination. Super handy, especially when traveling.
He gave her a look but didn’t argue. “What is going on?” he asked, looking around. Theirs was only one of three lines. Knots of people had gone off to the side either to wait for their party who was in line still, or to talk in agitated tones. No one was yelling but there was definitely tension in the air.
“I don’t know but a lot of people are pissed off. Some are heading off to the elevators so they’re checking people in but others seem to be leaving. Perhaps the weather is messing with things? Or it’s always like this in the summer? Maybe a sports team issue because there’s at least one team here in the lobby.” That she hoped their room wasn’t anywhere near.
“Hi there, reservation for Wren and Gregori Ivanov,” she said to the harried woman behind the counter nearly forty minutes later. If this went well, they could be in the room shortly and Gregori would stop radiating his agitation and she could get her freaking bra off and order room service.
The woman tapped on her keyboard and then tapped some more, this time with a frown she quickly tried to cover up.
“I have the reservation number if you need that,” Wren told her.
“No, your info is here, but the room...”
“What about the room?” Gregori asked in polite but firm tones.
“It’s everything,” the woman said. “The weather has meant a lot of guests checking out now aren’t going to. We’ve got a bunch of kids from a baseball camp, a convention and our normal summer traffic and we just don’t have the room. Even for people who had reservations. Worse, there’s been a busted water line, which has impacted several of our floors. Not just our hotel was affected, which impacts available rooms as well.”
“You don’t have our reservation?” Gregori asked, those polite tones a little more sharp.
“We don’t have a room for you. We don’t have rooms for a lot of people and I’m so sorry. It’s beyond my control.” Wren knew exactly what it felt like to have to face people who were angry about something you had no power over.
Wren stepped in front of Gregori. “Okay so what are we going to do? You have a room for us at a different hotel then?”
The clerk’s responding wince told her it wasn’t going to be an answer they’d like.
Half an hour later they pulled into a parking spot at their home for the night. The Pine View Motel. A far less shiny version of the hotel they’d planned for. Her luxury loving spouse was not pleased at the difference the m at the beginning of the word gave to the accommodations.
Determined to roll with it, Wren accentuated the positive as they headed to the office to check in. “I called ahead just to triple check that we had a room and we do so there’s one less worry. While you drove here I read a few reviews online. Says the rooms are outdated but clean. No one mentioned any safety problems and we’re close enough to the highway that we can be back on the road in the morning in no time. I’m quite sure you’ve stayed in worse places. I have. And they have a pool. There are several restaurants within walking distance and some shops. We weren’t planning on staying in such a small town and look, here we are. Complete with Main Street. We drop off our stuff, change and then go eat.”
He grumbled, opening the door to the office for her.
They could have opted for a nicer hotel if they’d gone back in the direction they’d come from but that seemed silly and for god’s sake, the motel wasn’t the set of a horror movie or anything. It was just weird, slightly smelly and old.
The clerk in the office made no secret in his examination of Gregori, clearly not convinced they weren’t serial killers, which Wren would point out to her husband when he was in a better mood.
“Lots of people caught up in the weather,” he said. “What brings you two here?” he asked as he continued to examine Gregori’s exposed ink.
“This is our honeymoon. I think I mentioned that on the phone earlier. We’re headed back home to Seattle.” Wren gave him a bright smile. The same kind she used back in her days as a bike messenger when she had cranky clients.
“Seattle,” he said with some hostility.
“Born and raised,” Wren told him, smile still in place.
He cleared his throat. “Pine View has rules. We don’t hold with any of that foolishness people do in Seattle so mind yourselves.”
Wren cocked her head trying to find the right thing to say to something like that. She got the general hostility part, but he could mean any number of things he read on the internet that they got up to on the other side of the Cascades.
“We’ll refrain from cedar planking salmon and rooting for the Seahawks,” Gregori said in a very dry tone, solving her dilemma nicely. “Or did you mean something else?”
“I meant don’t destroy the room. Don’t smoke drugs and don’t play loud music. We don’t have porn on the televisions here either.” The clerk sniffed as if that were some sort of personal triumph. And that everyone didn’t carry a computer around in their back pocket for porn any time of day or night if they really wanted it.
But whatever. He was suspicious and they were covered in tattoos and piercings. That they came from Seattle and one spoke with an accent only made him more so. It didn’t matter really. He was an archetype. She bet he liked to find something to be mad about with every single person who checked in.
Wren figured she might as well put this dude in her Jude the Assassin stories because he was perfectly stereotypical. That’s what you got sometimes when you got on the wrong side of a writer.
“Well okay then. I guess we’ll save our porn and drugs until we’re back in Seattle.” Wren smiled again, thrusting the signed receipt back the clerk’s way. She’d treat it like a joke because it was ridiculous and she had no desire to get into it with anyone. She wanted a room, some food and something to drink and as they had those things within their grasp, Wren had no reason to divert from their current path.
The clerk looked very closely at her driver’s license and then Gregori’s. “Your names are different,” he said.
Wren nodded. She didn’t owe him any explanations. Lots of people didn’t change their names after marriage and for god’s sake, they’d been married only a few days. It wasn’t like stopping off at the department of licensing was on her to do list just yet.
He sniffed again, but handed her a key on a ring with a banana yellow tag emblazoned with 205 in orange. It had been years since she’d had anything other than a key card at a hotel.
Gregori reached around her to take the key with growled thanks before he ushered Wren out.
“This is ridiculous,” Gregori said as they climbed the stairs up to their room on the second floor. He’d refused to let her carry her own luggage so she was lead
ing the way. “How do they not even have an elevator?”
“Right? No porn and no elevator. Woe. However, it’s just one flight of steps. You take the stairs to our place all the time and that’s multiple floors,” she said, amused.
“Not usually holding luggage while my wife sports an angry red sunburn after some shithead insulted us with his clumsy ignorance.”
He could be sweet even when he was grumpy. “Well, no. But you do look good all muscly and flexing while holding the bags. Do it for my hormones, Grisha.”
“Stop trying to divert me with sex talk,” he said but without any real heat. He just liked to bitch sometimes so she let him run himself down a while.
“Your wheelhouse is sex talk.” He had a rather delightful imagination in and out of bed.
“Are you trying to flatter me into a better mood?” he demanded and she danced ahead toward their room, laughing.
He was still complaining in Russian when she opened their door and shooed him inside their room, which was apparently a time capsule straight back to 1974.
“Wow.” It was pretty much all she could say at the sight of maroon shag carpet. And... “Holy crap, is that velvet wallpaper?” She touched it to find that yes, indeed it was.
“With gold and orange. It makes quite an impact with the carpet.” He shook his head, smiling slightly as he scanned the room. “To go with the avocado green, yes?”
There was a kitchenette with a two-person table in the aforesaid green and a tiny dorm-sized fridge which would be perfect for the beer she planned to bring back after dinner.
The room, like the hotel itself, was run down, no doubt about it. But after a peek at the yellow and orange bedding and the bathroom, she concluded it was clean and decently kept up. The bed was more a double bed than a queen and she was pretty sure Gregori’s feet would hang off the end, but they had a place to sleep with a lock on the door and after a very long day, that was just exactly what she wanted.
“I’m not even sure how you’d go about cleaning velvet wallpaper but it’s not sticky or anything so clearly someone does.” That’s when she noticed what was hanging on those velvet-covered walls.