Page 16 of Conflict
MY PHONErings in the middle of the night and I grimace at the sound. When I hear a man groan beside me though, I still. He’s not just a man, but Shane, pool boy, one-night stand, and the owner of a penis I never want to say goodbye to.
I can’t help the butterflies stirring in my belly as I glance over and catch the sight of him in my bed, bare-chested, vulnerable in his sleep. God, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this is love at first sight.
But I roll my eyes at the sentiment. I’m not falling victim to that line of thinking. Just because I lost my virginity to the guy does not a happy, blissful relationship make. I’m not going to confuse lust with love. I’m just going to chalk it up to an amazing night, a fantastic memory, and if we can make some more before the week’s end, I’ll be a happy camper. If we only have tonight… Well, let’s just not go there yet.
I slip out from under Shane’s arm and roll towards the nightstand, surprised to see my sister’s name on the screen. I snatch it up, gingerly leave the bed, and head out to the kitchen so as not to wake the sleeping man in my bed.
I’ll wake him—just not by way of phone.
“Ariana?” I whisper. “Why are you calling so late?”
“Lyss? Why are you whispering? Oh!” she exclaims, coming to her own—correct—conclusion. “You’re not alone, are you?”
A giggle escapes my lips. God, I’m giggling like a lovestruck teenager. I haven’t done that since…well, high school. She’s my sister though, and I’ve never lied to her. I’m not going to start now. Not when I might have a chance to split my time between both her and Shane for the week.
“Well…I may have slept with the pool boy,” I confess.
She gasps. “You didn’t.”
I grin, staring out onto the balcony and enjoying the way the moonlight captures the beauty of the water in the dark. “I sooo did. And I plan on doing it again before you get here. Which, actually, why are you calling so late? Shouldn’t you be hitting the road bright and early?”
She’s supposed to arrive early in the morning, and Ariana needs at least eight hours of sleep or she’s a colossal grouch
“I… Well, my night wasn’t quite as scandalous as yours, but I met a man at the hotel bar tonight and…”
And it’s my turn to gasp now. “Ariana Covington, you little minx!”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. I was at the dinner with Benjamin, and you know how those things go.”
“Let me guess. You sat through dinner picking at your food while Benjamin schmoozed whatever other blue blood was at his table. Then, before you were even finished eating, he excused himself to go play cards.”
There’s silence for a moment before she speaks. “Well, it was the lure of rare cigars this time, but you’re pretty much right. Anyway, I didn’t want to be there in the first place, and once abandoned, I certainly wasn’t sticking around to hear about all of the accomplishments made by various blue bloods. You know how these charity dinners go. They’re basically just pats on the back for someone donating a ton of money. Heaven forbid any of them get their hands dirty.”
Knowing that my sister can get rather long-winded on this soapbox, I interrupt her. “So, what happened? How’d you end up with a stranger?”
“Well, I was walking towards the lobby when I decided to get a glass of wine from the hotel bar before heading home for the night. I don’t know what I was thinking, Lyss. I really don’t. But when I walked in, a man whistled in my direction and I…”
“You scowled and flipped him off?” I ask, knowing just how much my sister hates cat calls.
Ari doesn’t respond, and if she could see me, she’d see the eyebrow I’ve raised in interest.
“Ariana?”
“The scowl was forming when I caught sight of the man who’d whistled. Alyssa, I’ve never seen a more handsome man in my life,” she breathes, her voice full of wonder.
Make that two of us.
“Enough to make you look past the rude gesture?” I ask.
“Enough to make my feet take on a mind of their own and draw me closer to him until I was sitting down, he was ordering me a drink, and I got lost in soulful, brown eyes.”
Whoa.
“And you ended up in his room, how?” I ask, more than curious.
“In the time it took me to drink one glass of wine, he practically polished off half a bottle of scotch. Something weighed heavily on him. He didn’t flirt, really. He just…talked. Rambled. He was…rather drunk, and frankly, he seemed sad. Like he needed a friend. A shoulder to commiserate on because he certainly wasn’t going to cry. I don’t know. Something about him drew me in, and I couldn’t just walk away.”
This is getting more interesting by the second. “So, what’d you do?” I ask.
