The honeymoon suite.
Oh, boy.
“Can we book it?” I asked, reaching for my wallet that was tucked into my jean’s pocket.
She nodded enthusiastically. “Of course.”
She walked away, going to a desk in the corner next to where Louis was standing.
I followed her, sidling up to Louis. I didn’t quite lean into him, but I definitely could feel his body heat with how close I was standing.
“That’s fine. Just come as soon as…” He trailed off when I touched his shoulder, causing him to look down at me.
I hadn’t surprised him by being there, but by voluntarily reaching out and touching him.
Hmmm, apparently, I didn’t do that all too often.
“Just ask them to come in the morning,” I said. “She has a room we can use tonight.”
Louis’ eyes went to the woman behind the counter, then back to me, before nodding once.
“On second thought, just come out in the morning once normal business operating hours begin,” he said tiredly. “We’re at Working out the Issues, B&B.”
Did I mention that I really loved that name?
“Do you have a lot of couples coming here to stay?” I asked with a smile.
The older woman nodded. “Originally, the name was The Sunflower B&B,” she said as Louis hung up the phone and started to listen. “But my guests started coming, mostly all couples, telling me that they thought they were staying at a different B&B with the same name. But almost always they stayed. They were always upset, though. The woman mad at the man, the man mad at the woman. Apparently, they were upset that the one or the other had chosen the wrong place. The other Sunflower B&B is apparently on the river or something. Not in the middle of nowhere, Texas. But it was really funny, because the next morning, they’d always worked out their issues. And I’ve only ever gotten five-star reviews after they’ve departed. And after reading one such review on my website of a couple who’d been on the verge of divorce coming here and their night here changing their life, I decided to change the name of my B&B to the title of their review: working out the issues.”
I liked that. A lot.
“That’s really cool,” I murmured softly. “Wow.”
I inadvertently started to lean into Louis, noticing how warm he was despite being soaking wet.
“Here’s the key,” she said as she slid an actual key across the desk to us. “You’ll pay tomorrow when you check out.”
I didn’t bother to reach for the key.
Instead, I allowed myself to study the room around us.
This was my personal style. All farmhouse chic.
I wanted my place to look like the B&B when I got done with it.
Louis’ hand slipped to my lower back as he gently pushed me away from the desk.
“I’ll send some extra towels up to your room. And if you want me to wash and launder your clothes, just set them in the basket outside your door. There are two robes hanging up on the bathroom door.”
With that, Louis led us upstairs and to the honeymoon suite.
When we got in there, I gasped at what I saw.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, eyes taking everything in.
The honeymoon suite was rather large and open. There was also a jacuzzi tub in the corner of the room that I was now dying to dive into.
The middle of the room was dominated by a very large, very heavy looking cast-iron, four-post, king-sized bed.
It had miles and miles of white sheets, white down comforter, white tulle pillows, and white everything. There had to be at least twenty pillows on the bed.
I licked my lips and looked to Louis who’d finally let go of my lower back and pushed into the middle of the room.
He placed his hands on his hips and looked around the room, taking it all in with a calculating eye.
“It’s very… white,” he said at last.
That was when I finally let myself see Louis.
He’d done some growing up since I’d last allowed myself to really look at him. To study the differences. He also had quite a few frown lines near his mouth and eyes, making me want to slide my fingers over them and help him release his tension.
I couldn’t stop myself. The words just tumbled out before I could so much as tell myself not to ask.
“Louis,” I said softly. “Why did you really come with me today?”
Why did you force me to spend the day with you? Why do you continuously try to make my life harder than it needs to be? Why is it, no matter how hard I try, I can’t hate you? Why do I still freakin’ love you?
I didn’t say any of that aloud, though. I didn’t want him to know what he did to me.
“Why did you ask me out on a date?” I pushed when he didn’t answer fast enough. “Why did you leave me?”