Page 14 of The Twelve-Hour Rule
She groans, but she’s smiling too. She takes the second cup as I hand it to her, fingers brushing mine. It’s nothing, a fraction of contact, but it does something stupid to me anyway.
“Big plans for today?” she asks.
I lean back against the headboard. “Rehearsal dinner later. I promised I’d show up and be charming,” I say, lifting one shoulder casually, even though I want to ask her to hang out with me all day. “It’s my only skill, really.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It’s a burden I carry, unfortunately.”
She shakes her head, smiling down at her cup. “I have to leave at about three.”
I nod, though something inside me drops a little. “Right.”
Right. I knew that, obviously. I just didn’t expect it to sound like a deadline. But maybe I can stretch it, keep her company for the rest of the day by the pool.
“I might just go to the pool until it’s time for the rehearsal. What are you doing with your extra time today?”
“I’ll join you,” she says, dropping the cup on the tray and getting out of bed. She’s naked, and god, does her confidence turn me on. Even without knowing her, and the little things she shared with me last night… There’s something about her that is so intriguing. I want to know more. “Do you mind if I leave my stuff in your room? I have to check out in an hour.”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer—instead puts on an oversized shirt and starts gathering her things, the neckline slipping off her shoulder before tugging it back up.
“I don’t mind,” I manage, trying to sound normal while my brain short-circuits.
She flashes me a smile over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
The door to the bathroom shuts, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I drop back against the pillows and the mug on the tray beside me topples over, the few drops left of my coffee slowly trickling out. I can still smell her shampoo in the sheets—something citrusy and clean, the kind of scent that clings to every space.
I shouldn’t be this drawn in. It’s not like we talked about anything meaningful last night. I don’t even know where she lives or what she does for a living, the most normal facts to know about someone before sleeping with them.
But I can still picture her laughing at the bar, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the dive, how she’d leaned closer when I made her laugh without meaning to.
It’s too much for something that’s supposed to be nothing.
The bathroom door opens, and she steps out wearing a swimsuit and one of those white flowy cover-ups that looks like it was made to be taken off. Her hair is wet and slicked back, and her sunglasses sit at the top of her hair, like they’re stopping the strands from falling to her face.
She looks… like vacation personified. Relaxed and untouchable.
I swing my legs out of bed and stand, trying not to look like I’m utterly obsessed with this woman, and failing completely.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asks again, slipping her phone and room key into her tote, then zipping up her small carry-on.
“Positive.”
Her lips twitch. “Okay.”
We walk together across the pool and into the building where I’m staying. The heat builds with every step, sunlight reflecting off the tiles, the ocean glinting in the distance. She walks a few paces ahead, her hand occasionally brushing her hair off her neck as she drags her suitcase along.
The wheels of her suitcase click against the tile, steady and rhythmic, like they’re counting down the minutes she has left here.
When we reach my hallway, she slows, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re sure this isn’t weird? I can find somewhere else to leave this for the day.”
“It’s fine, Sunshine.” I fish my keycard from my pocket and swipe the door open. “I just need to change real quick.”
The room’s the same as every other resort room—neutral, beach-proof, a little too cold from the A/C—but the second she steps in, it feels different. Smaller, but brighter.
She wheels her bag against the wall and turns toward me. “Thank you.”
Sol lingers by the doorway, fingers tracing the edge of her tote strap like she’s debating whether to stay or bolt. “Okay,” she echoes softly, glancing around the room. “Ready when you are.”
