“Remind me again why this place has to be in the middle of the mountains?” Owen asked as he closed the trunk of the Jeep we’d rented at the airport. There weren’t cabs that would take us up this high. “Shouldn’t a couple’s retreat be on a beach somewhere?”
“This is secluded. Did you count how many other cars we passed on the way up here?”
“I didn’t see any…” He shifted our luggage on the ground before he grinned. “Ah, I see.”
“Exactly. And look around”—I gestured my arms to the gorgeous open space around us—“this is amazing.”
His dark eyes scanned our surroundings, over the giant aspen trees that hugged the edges of the resort and the crisp, snowcapped mountains that acted as a backdrop. “It’s not an ocean view, but I like it.”
I chuckled. “You run on the beach every day. This will be a nice break. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” he said and motioned behind me with his chin.
I spun around, my eyes landing on a young man clad in a casual black cotton uniform. He waved a hand at Owen who had started hefting our bags over his massive shoulders. “Please, Sir. We will deliver your effects to your suite.”
Owen arched an eyebrow at me, still holding the bags.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at the man. “That would be wonderful.”
“My pleasure,” he said, reaching out his hand to me. “I’m Anderson. You must be Mrs. Grady?”
A thrill rushed through my chest, my blood tingling at the title despite it being fabricated. I chalked the giddiness up to the prospect of the amazing story I was about to experience and not at all to the way I felt about being loved enough to be given a new last name.
“Well,” I said, hoping my blush was hidden underneath the soft glow of the lights from the resort. “Almost.”
Anderson dropped my hand and shook Owen’s. “Ah, that’s right. My apologies. You’ve been engaged now for”—he screwed up his green eyes—“three months now, yes?”
“Wow, do they make the entire staff study us before we check in?” Owen shoved his hands in his pockets.
“No, Sir. Though, we are made aware of each new couple staying here. I’m your assigned butler, so naturally, I know more about you. Throughout your stay at Inhibitions, please feel free to call upon me for anything you may need.” He turned toward the entrance of the resort—a ginormous archway carved out of rock with a cobblestoned walkway leading up to it. “Allow me to show you to your suite.”
We fell into step behind him, Owen glancing over his shoulder twice to look at our unattended bags.
“They’ll be fine,” I whispered.
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying our things.” He grumbled.
“Someone needs to eat.” I tried to hide my giggle by walking ahead of him. I couldn’t fault his grumpiness, though, it had been one hell of a flight, and the delays had totally thrown off our eating schedule. We’d barely been able to scarf down a granola bar as we raced from one end of the connecting airport to the other.
I hurried ahead of him, following close behind Anderson. I glanced up at the archway as we passed beneath it, noticing now that I was closer the word Inhibitions carved across the top in super fine script.
“Why is it called Inhibitions?” I asked, never taking my eyes off the rock but still trying to keep pace with Anderson. One of my heels slipped on the stone steps as I tried to climb and I stumbled, windmilling my arms as unforgiving gravity tried to pull me backward.
A fast hand clutched my forearm and propelled me upward. “Because that is where you should leave them,” the man said, his crystal blue eyes only a few inches from my face as he steadied me. A mass of shoulder length black hair framed his face, which was half covered by a goatee. He smiled, releasing me once I’d found my feet again.
“Excuse me?” I asked, completely befuddled by his response.
He pointed to the archway. “I named this place Inhibitions because that is where you should leave your them—at the door.”
“You’re—”
“Grant Pearson.” He held out his hand for a proper shake, and I was shocked to see black nail polish on his fingers. After going as far to kiss my hand, he extended his arms outward to encompass the massive resort behind him. “Owner, creator, operator.”
“No shit?” Owen asked from beside me, placing his hand at the small of my back.
I quickly closed my parted lips from the shock of Grant’s appearance. He was tall, muscular, and donned a black pair of jeans and faded gray T-shirt with a succession of black triangles scattered across the chest. The man looked like a rock star, not the creator of one of the country’s most prized couple retreats. This is the man who saves marriages for a living?
“No shit,” Grant answered, letting his arms drop until they hit his sides. “You’re Owen Grady. Man, I saw your fight against Tucker Larkin last spring. Fucking brilliant.”
I smiled. We couldn’t go anywhere without him getting recognized. It wasn’t so daunting that we couldn’t go anywhere, but it always surprised me how many people followed boxing as closely as they did. If it hadn’t been for my college newspaper’s sports editor calling in sick, I would’ve never taken up watching it. As it was, my freshman year I was asked to fill in and cover the up-and-comer who was scheduled to fight one of our treasured student boxers. What should’ve been a piece about one of our own, quickly turned into a full work up on Owen Grady—the man, his aspirations, and how he could make a violent sport look like an intricately choreographed dance. We’d been inseparable ever since.
“Thanks.” Owen shook Grant’s hand doing all but grunt as he often did when someone complimented his work.
“Well,” Grant said, shaking some wild black hair off his broad shoulders. “You both must be exhausted. Normally we would have a two-hour session before check-in, but we’ll save that for tomorrow, yeah?” He nudged my shoulder, and I smiled, slightly taken back at his nearness. It wasn’t threatening—the way he didn’t appear to understand the idea of personal space—simply jarring.
“Thanks for that,” I said. “We had a long day.”
Owen moved his hand upward and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “And we’re starving.”
I leaned into him, laughing into his chest. “Please tell me you’ve got something for him, I fear for the safety of our room if your kitchen is closed.”
“Nothing closes here—kitchen, nightclub, pool, Wonderland rooms—they’re always open,” Grant said. “As are the grounds, though we do recommend staying close to the resort after dark. We’ve had a problem with bears.” His black eyebrows rose up and down rapidly as he smiled at us with an infectious grin.
“Wonderland rooms?” Owen asked, totally taking the thought out of my mind.
Grant glanced at Anderson, who had remained quietly at his side. “Send up a platter to their suit, will you, Anderson? And a bottle of…”—he clenched his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip—“Bourbon.” He pointed at Owen. “And a Vodka tonic for the lovely Presley.”
I gasped as he opened his eyes, fastening them on me. “How did you—”
He tapped his temple and bounced on the balls of his feet, which were covered in black combat boots. “It’s all up here, darling. My job, you know. Figure you two out. What makes you tick.” He winked at Owen before turning on his heel. “See you two loves in the morning!” He called over his shoulder before disappearing inside.
Owen and I looked at each other, completely at a loss for words.
“Follow me, please.” Anderson continued the trek we’d started, and we followed him inside, passing two other staff members dressed in the same outfit he was—going to get our bags I assumed.
The lobby was just as large as the outside boasted—the ceilings vaulted and lined with gorgeous wooden beams, windows that made it impossible not to see the brightness of the stars and a giant wooden staircase that spiraled upward farther than my eyes could follow. Off the entrance and to the left, three more staf
f members worked behind a large front desk that appeared to be entirely carved out of wood. It connected to a long hallway that was donned with signs directing to the nightclub, pool, and other areas too far for me to make out.
“I’ve already acquired your keys,” Anderson said, motioning us to follow him up the massive staircase. “You can fill out the forms and give proper information tomorrow morning. For now, please just don’t attempt to enter any of the Wonderland rooms. You’ll need to have completed the paperwork first.”
“What kind of paperwork?” Owen asked as I concentrated on carefully taking the steps in the heels I wore. I was seriously regretting not wearing my flats after the day we’d had, but I’d bought these for the sole purpose of wearing them on our first official day on the job.
“A variety of things, including the completion of your personality tests.”
“There are more of those?”
I nudged Owen in the side as we cleared the third set of stairs and thankfully cut off at the allowed landing and down a hallway.
“Great,” he quickly said. “I’m super excited, actually. I love tests.” He tried desperately to recover.
I smiled at his efforts and sighed in relief when Anderson stopped in front of a room, opening it with an electronic key—I’d half expected it to be a real key fit for a castle, as big as this place was.
“Here we are,” he said, holding the door open for us.
I gasped. The room was more like an apartment. We walked into the main living area, complete with lush, leather couches and a large fireplace, a large royal blue fur rug holding up a wooden coffee table. A full kitchen set off the right and just beyond that was a set of glass double doors that opened up to a personal balcony which overlooked the mountains.
“Your food and drinks should be up shortly, followed by your effects.” He passed us and opened up the other set of doors on our left. “Here is the master bedroom.” He pointed a finger to the door just to the right of it. “That is another guest room which has a private bath as well. And there is a full Jacuzzi on your deck.”
The master bedroom was nothing but a California king bed and more glorious views of outside, completed by the bathroom with a tub deep enough for both Owen and myself to swim in. Who wouldn’t be able to fall back in love here—I wondered, knowing this resort was just as much for reconnecting as it was for discovering how compatible you were with your partner.
“Is there anything else you’ll be needing?” Anderson asked as I walked back into the living room where Owen waited.
“No, thank you.” I handed him a bill from my purse; thankful Pamela had sent me off with plenty of petty cash. This place was so above my paygrade it wasn’t even funny. Owen, maybe, could afford this…if he saved up for it and continued to win fights like he did. No wonder celebrities frequented it. It was over the top luxury, and my heart raced from the excitement of getting to experience it.
“Until tomorrow,” Anderson said and ducked out of the room.
Owen let out a sigh. “He’s so proper.”
I laughed and instantly slipped out of my heels, closing my eyes from the relief. “I think it’s fantastic.”
“Sure, if you like all this nothing but the best stuff.”
“Who wouldn’t?” I gestured to the basic badassery of our suite.
He cracked a grin. “You’re right.” He jumped, launching himself onto the oversize leather couch, the furniture huffing when it took his weight. “Damn, this is nice,” he said, stroking the fabric like it was supple.
I sank beside him, wiggling until I settled deeply into its center. “Oh, I may not move the rest of the trip.” I arched my head back, closing my eyes and sucking in a long, happy breath. The air smelled crisp, clean, and carried Owen’s scent—a mixture of pine and soap. The tension from our flights uncoiled, my muscles slowly turning into putty.
“You better not,” Owen said, wrapping a strong arm around me and jerking me to him. “This is practically the only honeymoon I’ll ever get. You are obligated to entertain me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. There are a million and two women dying to marry you, Owen. Pick one and live happily ever after.” Sometimes his lack of interest in marriage shocked me, other times it was just simply part of who he was. He liked his freedom, and I couldn’t blame him. After what had happened with David, I wasn’t sure I’d ever commit to anyone again. Maybe Owen had it right, and I should be like him—sleep with anyone I fancied and still have the best man I’d ever known by my side…him.
“You over-exaggerate. Typical writer.”
I pushed back just enough to cut a glare at him.
“Just kidding. You’re like Austen. No, Poe. Rowling? King?”
I chuckled. “Are those the only authors you know?”
He shrugged.
“Well, thank you. But I’m not anywhere close to those, not that you’d know that. Since you don’t read Glimmer.”
He shifted on the couch, the motion tugging me closer to him and I rested my head against his chest. It was natural to be this close to him and yet, here, today, it felt…more comforting. Maybe I was over-exhausted from the trip. I didn’t even want to think about trying to adjust to the time difference. I closed my eyes, my breathing slowing.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said, my words soft.
“You know I’d do anything for you, Presley.” His voice was at my ear, his cheek resting on the top of my head.
A loud knock on the door jerked me out of the sleep that had been so close to claiming me right there against Owen’s chest. He jumped up so fast my head spun.
“Thank, God, the food is here,” he said before he’d even opened the door.
I laughed, rubbing my palms against my face. “Save some for me?” I asked as I walked toward the bedroom. “That shower is calling my name.”
Owen grunted a response as Anderson directed two other staff members inside our room. One carried our bags on a trolley; the other carried an array of food on a tray.
I shut the bedroom door behind me, slowly peeling off my clothes. Naked by the time I entered the bathroom, I cranked the water to steaming in the custom marble stand-up shower with built in seat. The hot water hit me like the sweetest rainstorm, and I instantly decided I had to install this kind of head in my much more modest apartment back in Cali.
Leisurely soaping up I eyed the seat, wondering what on earth anyone would need with the bench big enough for two or more. Then it hit me. An image of me straddling Owen on the very bench I looked at, the hot water gently kissing our skin as we consumed each other.
“Oh,” I said to myself, a flush raking across my already hot skin. Of course. I didn’t bother chiding myself for my wandering thoughts. It was a good thing. I needed to think like a newly engaged woman in order to write the best article I could for Pamela. In order to give her the full scoop, I had to become—including the lust levels—someone who was over the moon excited to start her life with the man of her dreams.
A new image, one of the dress I’d purchased to marry David in, flashed in my mind, successfully scaring away the hot thoughts I had about my best friend. Every time I thought about anything wedding related I was smacked in the face with my own stupidity. I’d been so blind. I’d truly believed he was my happily ever after. Not even close. I’d be happier spending the rest of my life with Owen as my best friend, taking lovers like he did and confiding the personal stuff to him when I needed a stronger connection. Hell, that is what he did now. I could do that. I would do that.
After this vacation, of course. For the next two weeks, I was off limits to anyone who didn’t have Grady as a last name.
Finally shutting the water off, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself, popping into our bedroom to look for my bag.
“Whoa!” Owen jolted from the bed where he was sprawled out. He held his hand over his eyes.
I clutched the towel around me. “Why aren’t you eating?” I asked, my eyes darting around the room fo
r something larger to cover up with. I spotted a thin cotton robe hanging on the back of the closet door and jerked it down.
“You were in there for half an hour,” he said, eyes still covered. “I got tired. Why are you prancing around naked?”
I tied the robe around me, losing the towel. “You think this is naked? I’m suddenly doubting your playboy ways.”
He fanned his fingers, dropping his hand after his eyes trailed up and down my now covered body. Well, somewhat. The robe stopped just above my knees, and the fabric was so soft it felt like it was barely there.
“Never doubt me. You just surprised me is all.”
“You have to start thinking like we’re engaged, Owen.” He needed to be in the same mindset as I was or we’d blow our cover. “You saw Grant. He’s ultra perceptive. I don’t want him to figure out we’re duping him.”
Owen arched an eyebrow at me, turning on his side and propping his head up with one arm. “Duping him? He’d do a backflip if he found us out, the way he was looking at you?”
“Oh come on.” I rolled my eyes and ran my fingers through my wet locks.
“Seriously. It was like you were a new piece of meat on an endless buffet.”
“What the hell did you just refer to me as? Food?”
“Mouthwatering,” he said in an even tone.
I swallowed hard; his gaze suddenly heavy upon me. “You’re seeing things. Food wasn’t enough; you need to sleep.”
He rolled onto his back. “You never see it.” He closed his eyes. “I’m. Not. Moving.”
I smiled at him though he couldn’t see it and padded barefoot over to where he’d set my bag. After digging out a pair of shorts and T to sleep in, I changed quickly and slipped underneath the covers. Owen’s breathing was even on the other side of the bed, which wasn’t as far as I would’ve thought for how massive it was. Or maybe Owen just filled it well.
Closing my eyes, I let the subtle sound of his breath lull me to sleep, forcing myself to remember that when I woke up, I needed to be an entirely new person.
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