No Vacancy Page 6

  “When you get back, you’ll be in a better mood to straighten things out.” The nonchalance in his voice had me seeing red.

  Blood roared in my veins, giving me a headache. How often did Trent dismiss me? And why had I stuck around? My faded memory of the charming man I’d met years ago had clouded my judgment of the jerk he was now, but the misfortune of coming home early brought me unwelcome, but undeniable clarity.

  “There’s nothing to talk about or straighten out. You cheated. In our apartment. Where I could see. And you didn’t care. After what you did, there’s nothing to discuss. You have a week to pack your shit and get out.” As tough as I attempted to sound, my voice quaked with a flood of emotion. Fury topped the list for sure. What kind of a man gets a blow job in the apartment he shared with his girlfriend and doesn’t even say he’s sorry?

  As much as I’d thought about it, it was hard to pinpoint exactly when we became nothing more than roommates, but I still reeled from Trent’s betrayal. No matter what we’d been or hadn’t been to each other in recent months, his lack of respect for me hurt.

  “I’m surprised you even noticed. Your head is always buried in your laptop or your phone. You’re working when you aren’t even at work. Maybe it wasn’t my finest hour but—”

  “Not your finest hour?” I screamed, wincing at the piercing pain caused by my own shrill voice. This had been his go-to since I’d caught him: I was a workaholic who neglected him and was to blame for it all.

  “If you paid attention to me and the people around you once in a while, they’d stick around. I’m surprised you still have friends who invite you on vacation,” he huffed. More than anything, I wanted to be home to clock him and obliterate the smug smile I knew was spreading his lips.

  “You’re right,” I said in a scratchy whisper.

  “I’m right? You’re serious?”

  “I must have been really distracted to not notice when you became a cold and heartless asshole. I’m not sure what’s worse, if you set out to hurt me, or if you just didn’t care that you did.”

  “Look, Cat.” I almost heard a trace of contrition in his voice. “You have to admit, you’re distracted all the time. No one can get close to you. You made this job your focus and don’t see anyone else or anything around you. You can’t blame people for moving on.”

  I took a sharp breath, willing back the angry tears. My friends hadn’t cast me aside, even though I canceled plans with them all the time. My family loved me—though, they tended to hover along with my mother, worrying I pushed myself too hard.

  Trent was playing dirty and trying to get to me, and I loathed how easily it worked. Even worse, as much as I’d fought against it, guilt rolled in my gut for how Trent and I ended. I didn’t push his dick into that woman’s mouth, but had my constant absence given him justification that it was okay? It was a ridiculous thought, but it wouldn’t stop repeating in my head.

  “No, I suppose you’re right. Luckily, my friends and family care about me too much to cast me aside and disrespect me like I’m trash. You, by all means, can move on. Out by the tenth, or I call the cops to remove you.”

  I stabbed the red end button on my phone and threw it onto my hotel bed, trying to forget Trent’s ugly words. I had a small circle of friends and family. I figured that was life as you grew up and started a career. Was I really missing some kind of connection gene? I’d never considered it before, and now it was all I could think about.

  Rather than stew in my room, I threw on a tank top and cutoffs and headed out. Maybe I could sit by the beach and get lost in the sunset before drowning my sorrows in the homemade ice cream shop I’d spotted next to the hotel. In my teenaged years, ice cream after a breakup was a must. But it wasn’t a broken heart I was nursing; it was a broken spirit.

  I strode past the main office of the hotel, stopping when a colorful flyer caught my eye.

  “You should stop by.”

  I jumped at Lou’s voice behind me. He and his wife had made it a point to check on me each time they bumped into me today. Was I okay? Did I need anything? After the fight I’d had with Trent, kindness and consideration from strangers was a balm to the cracks in my self-esteem.

  Like last night.

  Giving Joe the brush-off was the right thing to do, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so difficult to walk away from him. My head was still all kinds of fucked up from Trent, even before our last shitty conversation. As incredible as last night had been, I couldn’t take it any further with Joe. I hated myself and my rotten conscience all day, especially after spotting the disappointment in his eyes this morning.

  What did I expect? Or what did either of us expect, for that matter? We were two strangers who had amazing sex and nothing more—no matter how much it seemed like more. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think I missed him today. How do you miss someone you hardly know? You didn’t—not really.

  “The festival. Ocean Cove’s first big event of the summer.” Lou pointed across the street to the bustle of activity just behind The Beach Pub.

  “I heard about that today.” I took a second look at the flyer. “It’s mostly food, right? No scary rides?”

  “A few,” he answered with a shrug. “My wife would never let our kids on one. She said if they put it together overnight, there was no way it could be safe.”

  “Your wife would get along very well with my mother. What else do they have? Typical fair junk food?” I prayed for Zeppoles, the deep-fried balls of dough smothered in powdered sugar that lured me to every local street feast. They probably called them something different here or made them into funnel cakes, which wasn’t the same at all, but I’d take it. I was either eating or drinking my feelings tonight, and how much comfort could a light beer from the hotel offer? If I wanted anything harder, I’d have to go visit The Beach Pub and see Joe. The temptation to ask him for more than only a drink would be too great.

  “The restaurants and some of the bakeries from the area have booths. It’s a good way to get to know what’s around town, and it’s only two streets away.” He nodded behind me with his chin.

  “That actually sounds perfect. Thanks, Lou!”

  He waved me off, and I headed down toward the lighted tents now coming into distant view.

  I usually felt anxious about large crowds, but going alone and not worrying about separating from anyone was oddly liberating. I wouldn’t stay very long, just enough to fill my belly then head back to the hotel.

  All the different smells made my mouth water. I spotted pizza, burgers, fresh donuts, and cupcakes on the first line of tents. The festival stretched out almost the entire length of the beach and already beat any local street feast back in Brooklyn.

  “I think the second tent on the right has mutzadelle sticks.”

  Startled by the familiar deep timbre in my ear, I jumped and craned my head. My gaze met Joe’s, and it was awkward how it wasn’t awkward at all to see him again. His presence excited me as much as it soothed me, just like when I met him last night. He wore khaki shorts and a black T-shirt, with The Beach Pub embroidered on the front pocket. He never mentioned he’d be here, but of course, he would be. He was as much of a town staple as his restaurant was. I’d figured that out right away. What would it be like to be that purely happy with what you did for a living and where you lived?

  Not that I hated Brooklyn, but it was all I’d ever known. And I did love my job.

  At the expense of everyone else.

  Shaking off the nasty sting of Trent’s taunt in my head, I turned my focus back to Joe. Gorgeous, nice, too-good-for-my-baggage Joe. His shirt stretched across his torso, triggering a shiver at the memory of what he looked like without it … or pants.

  I raked my hands through my hair and shut my eyes. Infatuation and need for affection was what this was, all made that much worse, not having to wonder what Joe’s affection felt like—what he felt like. Like he’d said, this was a small town, and I’d no doubt run into him a few times during my wee
k here, so I needed to learn how to have a nice, platonic, conversation that wouldn’t lead to me pulling him into my hotel room again.

  “There’s way too much here. I have no idea where to start.” While my gaze kept shifting around to the action around us, his never wavered and stayed fixed on me. “What’s at your booth?”

  “Simple stuff. Sliders on the grill and some ears of corn. Dominic loves this and insists on running our tent himself. I’m just the eye candy.” He winked before offering me the crook of his arm. “Come with me. I’ll show you the good stuff. Friends can show friends around a new place, right? No strings?”

  The right thing to do would’ve been to say, “no, thanks,” but I nodded and linked my arm with his. What harm would it do? While I had come here alone to process all the shit in my life, I supposed being alone today wouldn’t be healthy. I enjoyed being around Joe, he seemed to want to be around me, why overthink? Keeping hold of him as he led me through the crowd, I was struck again with how natural being with Joe seemed. If I had to, I’d draw another line in the sand. Right now, I went along with what felt good, regardless of if it should or not.

  “This is the best sangria I ever had!” I gushed as I drained my third cup. I tried to pace myself since I hadn’t had much to eat today aside from all the samples Joe and I had been gathering as we walked the length of the festival. But it was hot, and I was parched. It wasn’t the amount of alcohol I was consuming going straight to my head, it was how fast I was inhaling it.

  Joe pulled the cup down from my lips. “Emily soaks the fruit in booze before she mixes it in. Slow down, beautiful.” He tapped my chin to make me look up. Maybe I wasn’t drunk, but alcohol warmed my belly enough to melt away any denial or pretense. Why had I thought Joe and I were a bad idea? Because I’d only just met him? That it was too soon after a break up? I broke our gaze again, wobbling as I tried to hold on to my resolve.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, his hand moving to the damp nape of my neck. I zeroed in on his lips, wanting to taste them so badly. My body moved closer, almost powerless against the pull before I stepped back and almost tripped.

  “No!” I answered too loudly to be convincing. “I’m having fun. With you. Well, maybe not as much fun as last night, but this festival is cool.” I ignored the loud voice in my head yelling at me to close my damn mouth before I humiliated myself even more, but I kept going. “At least I had fun, did you have fun, Joe?” My question came out so pathetic and hopeful, like if a begging puppy could speak.

  His eyes thinned to slits as he scrutinized my sloppy movements. He opened his mouth to say something before glancing over my shoulder to wave at someone.

  “Excuse me, I need to say a quick hello to one of our vendors. Don’t go in for another refill until I get back.” He looped an arm around my waist and pulled me close, and I again resented my body’s reaction at the spark from his touch. “Yes. I had fun. A lot of fun. Don’t move, okay?”

  My eyes stayed glued to Joe as he jogged away. I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to sober up.

  Spotting an ice cream tent across the way, I held in a squeal of gratitude. I should have stuck to my original plan of stuffing my face with hot fudge covered goodness—alone.

  Squinting at the flavor list in the back, I couldn’t make out a thing. My eyes were tired and out of focus.

  “Hi, there!” I greeted the sales girl in a louder-than-I-meant-to voice. “What do you recommend?”

  “Our Pina Colada is usually popular.” She shrugged when she met my gaze. “Can I see your ID?”

  “My ID?” Not sure if she wanted to add me to a mailing list or something, I hesitated, but really wanted that damn ice cream, so I fished it out of my purse and handed it to her. She looked it over and nodded before handing it back to me.

  “We only have one size, and it’s $5.25.”

  I handed her the money, and she worked the ice cream into a beautiful swirl on top of a deep plastic cup. Taking it from her and digging my spoon in, my eyes fluttered when the sweet and tangy taste hit my tongue and tingled down my throat. It really did taste like a Pina Colada, even burning going down like one, too.

  By the time Joe came back over, I was already three-quarters of the way down the bowl.

  “I thought you left.” It took a lot of effort to say only four slow and slurred words.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied me, growing wide when they landed on the cup in my hand.

  “Did you buy that from over there?” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the girl who sold me the ice cream.

  “Yeah, why?” I flinched at my loud voice.

  Joe laughed before covering his mouth with his hands. “That has alcohol in it. More than the sangria. You didn’t see it on the sign behind her?”

  “It was dark.” I stumbled as I tried to glance over to the tent and find where they noted the ice cream was full of booze. “I couldn’t even see what flavors she had. That’s why she wanted to see my ID? Hey, I got carded, Joe!” I slapped his chest so hard he fell back a step. “My thirty-three-year-old ass got carded. The poor girl must be nearsighted.” I let out a loud cackle before almost tumbling over. Joe caught me and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  “I’m not sure if you can make it up all three flights at the Anchor. Let me take you to my apartment and sober you up a little. No funny business, I promise.”

  As he led me away, I burrowed into his side. When he drew me toward him, I took the opportunity to nuzzle his neck, using my tipsy condition as an excuse to indulge. God, he smelled good. I remembered how smooth and sweet the skin on his neck was, and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip so I wouldn’t be tempted to take another taste.

  “Joe,” I whispered into his ear. “I’m sorry.”

  What was I sorry for? Sorry for leading him on tonight, unintentionally-intentionally because I liked him and wanted to be near him? Sorry we couldn’t go further than we already had, and couldn’t go back? Or sorry that from the moment he met me, I was an unglued damsel in distress?

  Joe stopped and cupped my cheek, turning my face toward his.

  “Don’t be sorry.” His lips brushed my forehead. “Friends take care of friends, right?”

  As loopy as I was, I didn’t miss the sad glint in his eye, confirming what I already knew.

  We weren’t really friends and never would be.

  9

  Joe

  I led Caterina up the short flight of stairs to my apartment, keeping one arm around her waist as I unlocked the door. I’d had a blast showing her all the different tents and filling her in on Ocean Cove, and just being with her in general, but I couldn’t shake my worry. She’d gotten tipsy by accident, but I wondered what was bothering her tonight to drink so much so fast. Even when she laughed at my dumb jokes, there was a sad gloss to her dark eyes. I suspected it had something to do with her ex, but I wouldn’t press. I’d give her a few bottles of water before taking her back to her motel room, then try to forget I’d ever met her—just like I’d been trying to do all afternoon.

  I sat her down on my couch and handed her a bottle. She shook her head and swatted it away.

  “Thank you, but I’m really fine,” she slurred before I put the bottle in her hand again, raising a brow until she finally took a drink. “It’s okay. I can handle my ice cream.”

  “I’m sure you can, sweetheart.” I laughed as she lifted the bottle to her lips again. Those soft, sweet lips that tasted as good as they looked. Forgetting I met her would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if she was more forgettable. Unfortunately, she was the exact opposite.

  She wore a tight tank top and tiny shorts that showed enough smooth olive skin to make my mouth water. It was all I could do not to ogle her amazing body, as I’d caught countless guys doing as she walked past them tonight. I couldn’t blame them. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, either. Those beautiful, sad eyes got to me most of all, and, although I shouldn’t have made it my concern, it was.
I was worried about a woman I’d only just met. Worse, the fantasy of being her hero and making it all better both confused and overwhelmed me.

  I tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and traced the delicate curve of her jaw. Her watery gaze shot to mine, that now familiar current pulsing between us at my slip of endearment. “Just drink for me, okay?”

  I cupped her neck, and her head fell back as she leaned into my touch. The alcohol must’ve lifted her inhibitions and the wall she’d tried to erect between us earlier. Either I was soothing her, exciting her, or both. My chest swelled at either possibility.

  Caterina grabbed my forearms and pulled me toward her. I crouched down in front of her and lifted the bottle to her lips. Her pained eyes got to me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and before I could stop myself, my hand cupped her cheek.

  She turned her head and nuzzled my palm. With very little effort, this woman was killing me after only a day.

  “You really are adorable. And sweet and kind.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek, lingering long enough for my eyes to clench shut and my cock to thicken in my shorts. I was stone-cold sober, so my own inhibitions needed to stay put. No matter how tempting it would be to kiss those lips, to lick inside her mouth and feel her melt against me again, my job was to take care of her—not take advantage. After only one night, I’d gotten to know her body too well, and all I wanted to do was push all those buttons I had the pleasure of discovering last night.

  “No one can get close to me. I’m cold.” She sniffled as she downed the last of the first bottle.

  “Whoever told you that,” I cradled her face and turned it toward me, “was an asshole.”