Work Wife

Lounge

None of us win the limbo contest. Tory got close but came in third. 

We linger at the pool until six, swimming lazily and sipping frozen cocktails. By the time we finally scatter to get ready for dinner, everyone is buzzing from the drinks and the sun. Logan kept his distance, staying lukewarm in front of the others. His hands and lips were notably absent, but his flirty banter still managed to make my cheeks heat more than the tropical sun.

I couldn't help but notice that Ainslee seemed to only engage with me when it involved wedding questions or veiled, suggestive comments about Logan. Outside of that, she barely acknowledged my presence. We exchanged a few polite sentences here and there, but it was obvious: I'm not part of her inner circle.

The more Chase drank, the more he'd throw stories around of how he grew up, places he's been, and experiences that were just "so epic." He reminded us time and time again that he has money, he's done cool shit, and has lots of cool shit. I'd never seen this gloaty, braggy side of him and I found myself scooting away from him. 

Before we left the pool, Ainslee loudly announced she'd be getting ready with Maddie and Kaitlyn tonight, making sure everyone knew where to find her. Then she reminded her bridesmaids to wear their little black dresses for the club, throwing a pointed glance in my direction. 

I realize Chase will be alone in his room for a bit, so I text him as soon as I get back to mine, asking if he can meet me in the lounge twenty minutes before dinner to go over some plans for Saturday. He agrees, and I add that it's just a "groom thing" hoping he won't feel the need to mention it to the bride.

Back in my room, I let the cold water stream over me, washing away the sweat, sand, and chlorine from the day. I'm not paying attention to how long I stand there, enjoying the luxury of the oversized shower. The first day hasn't been so bad, I realize. Despite Ainslee's pointed attitude, I'm actually finding myself enjoying Mexico. Though, if I'm being honest, Logan's bad jokes and those piercing green eyes are definitely playing a part in my growing appreciation of this trip.

Wrapped in one of the fluffy, oversized robes, I flop onto the bed and scroll through my emails while half-watching a rerun of Bones. To my relief, Eloise reports that the office hasn't burned down, the clients are content, and everything is running smoothly. She adds that Chase has been checking in sporadically, clearly unable to unplug, even on vacation. I grin as I type back that he's been shit-faced since he landed and that Ainslee and I are still far from being BFFs.

I had Mina and Eloise help me decide on which little black dress to buy for tonight so I know I will be looking fine walking into dinner. The humidity tells me not to bother leaving all my hair down, so I swoop it into a half-ponytail and draw my winged linger on with precision. It takes me three tries to get it even and I do not know how women can do this with a simple flick of their hand. I add a touch of shimmer to make my hazel eyes pop and swipe my fiercest red lipstick over my Cupid's bow lips. I am aware this is not a date, however, I notice I am dolling myself up for a certain individual and picture myself leaving a bold red lip print on him. Our kiss was cold and soft this morning and if it happens again, I imagine it will be the exact opposite. We kept our hands to ourselves and our stares secret down at the pool, but I felt electricity humming between us all afternoon. 

I text Chase that I am on my way down and he replies with a thumbs up. I make sure the elevator area is clear before hitting the down button. I can't ask Chase about Logan if he's there with me. I also hope he is sober enough to have a conversation. 

Chase's linen button-down stretches taut over his broad shoulders as I spot him in the lounge, head bent over his phone. I can't see his face, but that mane of thick, jet-black hair is unmistakable. There's something about the way he carries himself, an effortless confidence that makes him seem like he owns any room he steps into. Even here, lounging against the sleek barstool, he looks entirely at ease, as though the space was designed for him.