“And from this day forward, we shall no longer use the name of the snake. He doesn’t deserve to have his name in your mouth.”
“Good plan. Thanks for talking.”
“You know it goes without saying. I will always be here for you. Take it easy and please be that way.”
I laugh at Wes’s ubiquitous sign-off. “I’ll do my best. Bye.”
I end the call just as there’s a knock on my door. I bristle, hoping it’s not Kyle trying to slither his way back. I open the door, taking a step back when I see who it is.
“Hello.”
The sexy bartender smiles. “Hi.”
“Uh, what can I do for you? Do you need to cancel for tonight?”
“Nope. I have good news. The front desk wants to offer you a room upgrade.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Let’s just say we thought it would be a nice fresh start to your weekend.”
“That’s really nice. Your doing?”
“I didn’t act alone. I can take you to your new room.”
“Sure. That’s great. I’m not even unpacked, so let me just grab my suitcase.”
I gather the few things I have then turn to face Tigo, who is leaning against the door, simply watching me. Now that I have a moment to think, it settles in that in just a few hours, I’ll be having dinner with this stunning man. I don’t know what we’ll talk about, but I kind of don’t care. Staring at him would be sufficient.
“I’m ready.”
Tigo smiles. “Cool. Let’s go.”
He holds the door, grabbing my carry-on from me.
“It’s a good walk from here,” Tigo says.
I wonder what we’ll talk about tonight. Do we have things in common? Wes’s teasing flits through my mind, my body warming from just the thought of touching Tigo. He’s so hot. I thought Kyle was damn near perfect, but more than once, my friends and family called him shallow and his looks artificial. Tigo is all man, and at least at this point, doesn’t seem to have a pretentious bone in his body.
“How long have you worked here?”
Tigo glances over his shoulder at me. “Years. I had planned to take it as a temporary job, but I loved it so much, I stayed.”
“Why temporary?”
“Oh, you know. I’m an artist. Well, I was.”
I notice how his happy disposition slips on that last part. I want to question that but decide against it. For some reason—one that doesn’t make sense to me—I want to be why he smiles again.
“It’s a family here,” Tigo continues, brightening up again. “A quirky, slightly dysfunctional one, but it works. These people have my back, and I have theirs.”
“Unusual for a workplace.”
“Exactly. What do you do for work?”
“I’m a freelance writer.”
“Oh yeah?” We step to the side of the path to let two people pass us. “What do you write?”