Chapter 4: Brooks
I can’t believe I just did that.
I figured my buddy Sheldon was doing me a favor when he offered to let me stay in one of his unbooked hotel suites while my floors were being resealed. He was even thoughtful enough to warn me there was a bachelorette party booked next door and they might get “a little rowdy.”
I just didn’t expect the walls to be so thin or the party in question to have a marathon weekend of siren impersonations. Or the green-eyed beauty with a smart mouth. I always liked a mouthy woman. The kind of woman who wouldn’t take any of my shit.
It’s been way too long since I've had a woman pressed up against me and that wasn’t just any woman. Groaning, I think about the way she tasted. The way she writhed against me, so close I could feel the heat of her pussy through her dress. Gritting my teeth, I roll over in bed. The bachelorette party has finally gone quiet. I’d give anything for them to carry on and give me an excuse to go back over there. I’d like nothing more than to lay claim to the green-eyed woman.
She deserves better than a cold workaholic like me though. Running a construction firm is demanding. I have funneled every ounce of my time and energy into my company for the last nine years. It’s taken a shit load of planning and hard work, but there's a reason my reputation is one of the best in Napa. And it’s not because I go around kissing random chicks.
I toss and turn for hours, waking up over and over to thoughts of the green-eyed woman who is sleeping less than 50 feet from me. I could probably yell through the wall, and she’d hear me. Sleep doesn’t take me until I decide to find out who she is first thing tomorrow morning.
When I wake up, I’m still exhausted. I groggily fumble for my phone only to realize I slept through my god damn alarm and I’m late to my initial job site. I’m forced to rush out of the hotel at record speed and pray the bachelorette party is staying one more night.
I curse myself the entire drive out to the site. I should have at least asked for her name and phone number last night. My inner caveman would have been happier if I had thrown her over my shoulder and carried her back to my room. Instead, I just stalked out and spent a sleepless night alone, wondering where she lives and who she might go home to. The thought of another man kissing that pouty mouth, putting his hands on her body, has me grinding my teeth.
I struggle through the first few hours of my day. I need more coffee and I can’t shake the need to find her. I’m tempted to cancel my client meeting in Sonoma and drive around Napa to see if I can spot the bachelorette party. I didn’t even want to take the damn meeting in the first place. Commercial additions aren’t our usual business but I owe Della, the architect, a favor, and the bakery owner is a friend of hers. If I cancel now, she will be royally pissed.
The drive up to my client meeting in Sonoma only takes 20 minutes and I’m early. Parking in front of the Olive Branch Bakery, I check the lot for Della’s car. It looks like I beat her here so I look up the number for the hotel and call the front desk, asking to be connected to room 613. The phone rings and for a second I panic, because I don’t have a plan of attack for this. I’m usually methodical to a fault, but this girl has me all messed up. It doesn’t matter because the phone rings and rings and rings some more. They’ve either still asleep, gone out for brunch, or they’ve checked out.
I call the front desk again. When the desk attendant answers I go with a white lie and my friendliest voice. “Hi, my fiancé is in room 613 and no one is answering the phone. Could I leave a message for her?”
I can hear a keyboard clicking as the desk attendant looks something up. “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any guests registered to that room. What is your fiancé’s name?”
Shit. “Oh, she’s calling me on the other line,” I lie. “Thanks for your help!” I hang up and stare at my phone for a couple of seconds before tossing it in the passenger seat. “Dammit,” I mutter through clenched teeth. Sagging in my seat, I ponder my options. The sign in the bakery window catches my eye, announcing that they sell locally roasted coffee. At least I can take care of one of my problems before this damn meeting.