Southern Spinster by Cassie Mae

Author:Cassie Mae [Mae, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CookieLynn Publishing Services
Published: 2018-02-18T16:00:00+00:00

As Garreth left the pool with a wave, gesturing to his wet clothes, Maybelle waved back and ignored the ache in her heart that she wouldn’t see him until tonight.

Michael shifted next to her, pushing off his knees and extending a hand out. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To the third floor.” He cheekily grinned, showing his white teeth. “Show you what I had planned last night.”

She hesitated, eyeing his palm before looking him in the eye. “Winter invited me to dinner tonight.”

“Okay.”

“I have to get dressed, get ready…”

“You have fun, right?” he teased. “You know what fun is?”

A wrinkle popped above her nose. “I have a reputation for it.”

“Not ‘round these parts.” His accent was spot on. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Come on. Don’t make me have fun alone.”

She laughed, her skin warm where it met his. His shorts had gone from soaking to damp, his skin and hair already completely dry. He maneuvered her around servers, guests, furniture, and large puddles of pool water. She liked being the one led; it was a nice change of pace.

He led her up the hallway to the elevator. As the doors closed, he pulled the keycard from his suit.

“Will it work after going for a swim?” she asked skeptically. He arrogantly waved it over the black panel and the three lit up.

“Guess so.”

She backhanded his bare stomach, biting away a squeal at those yummy abs of his. Did he plan on staying shirtless? Because her brain may short circuit.

“Your hair smells good,” he said as nonchalantly as one would about the weather. “Like oranges.”

“Only the best product for this girl.” She pulled at one of the curls, letting it bounce back into place. “And all my clients.”

The elevator binged and the doors slid apart. “Clients?” he asked. “Are you a hairdresser?”

“Struggling hairdresser. I mainly just do the local weddin’s and proms.”

“You should apply here,” he said with a wink. “Maybe stick around.”

“If it comes with room and board at this place, deal.”

A playful look flashed in his eyes, and he put a hand on the small of her back, nudging her to take the next turn. “This is the staff floor,” he said, bringing them to an open room. “And this is our playground.”

Her jaw dropped, and she looked up at Michael for permission to explore. He laughed, nodding her onward.

The guest rec room was nowhere near as outlandish as the actors’. Maybelle passed by an air hockey table, running her fingers across the smooth surface as her eyes tried to take everything in at once. There was one arcade in her hometown, and she hadn’t been in years. It had been a go-to date spot when she’d been in her teens and early twenties, but then it was all dinners at Roe’s Pizza or Goody’s BBQ, a show at the drive-in, or dessert from Betty Baker’s Batter. This room held all generation of entertainment—arcade, bowling alley, spa and massage room, sports bar, and a balcony that looked like it hosted yet another pool and hot tub.

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