Page 4 of Rage Finish

“I won’t be long. The sauna is closed and⁠—”

“Really. It’s all right.”

I keep to the opposite side and make myself comfortable. Slipping far enough into the water for my neck to rest on the edge, I close my eyes. “Thanks. Are you here on business or—” The woman begins to get out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. I just…”

“Fuck, I’m such an asshole,” I mutter to myself. Here she is trying to relax, and I’m interrupting her. I pinch the bridge of my nose, then sit up straighter. “You don’t need to leave. I will.”

She chuckles, then sighs. “No. It’s okay. It’s been a long day, and I’m just not one for small talk.”

I wipe at my eyes, but she’s still blurry. “Then stay. I’ll keep my mouth to myself.” It comes out more sultry than I’d like, but I chalk it up to exhaustion.

“Thank you.” Seemingly unfazed by my comment, the woman settles back into the water. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I slink back in and close my eyes. Silence stretches between us, and I startle as she speaks again. “I’m sorry if I was rude before. To answer your question, I’m here on business.”

“Same,” I offer. While I could elaborate, the questions could get increasingly awkward. I play through the potential conversation in my head.

Are you here for the writing retreat? Yes.

What do you write? Romance.

She’ll either gasp in excitement or cringe. There is no in-between.

“Are you attending an event at the hotel?” she probes, and I inwardly sigh.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes, but I’m dreading it,” she laughs. “Though I suppose this should be better than attending a book convention. Talk about overstimulating.”

Though I’m certain of the answer, I still ask, “Are you an author?”

“I am,” she admits proudly. “I take it you are as well?”

I’m unable to mask my smile. “I dabble.”

“Oh! Are you one of the debut authors who were invited? What do you write?”

Debut authors?

The excitement in her voice has me braving another look, but she’s still just an outline without any distinct features. Whoever this woman is seems sweet, albeit a little awkward, and I wish I could see her better so I could recognize her tomorrow and say hello. Also, I should really consider getting contacts like my optometrist recommended, but I can’t stand the idea of touching my eyes every day.

I’m about to answer her question when she reaches over for something beside the hot tub. Based on her movement, it seems to be glasses she’s putting on. A second later, she gasps and scrambles to get out of the water. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll…” Before I can get the full sentence out, she’s out of the hot tub and wrapping herself in a towel as she sprints for the exit. “...leave.”

3

SLOANE

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hiss as I swipe my key card against my room lock. “Why won’t you open?”

Why the hell did he sit there across from me in the hot tub and strike up a conversation like that? I was a bitch to him years ago. No—strike that—I was a cunt. I was a fucking cunt to him. And here I am doing it again. But what does he expect? He just sat there, talking to me as if I didn’t commit the cardinal sin of judging him for reading romance. While I don’t read it myself, I never should’ve written him off like I did.

Maybe it wasn’t him? In his pictures, he was wearing glasses…

No. It was definitely him.

As I continue to frantically tap my card against the room lock, the elevator dings at the end of the hall. A man steps out, and because Murphy’s law is at play today, of course it’s Wyatt. Except now he’s wearing those slutty little glasses from his profile picture years ago. I quickly look away, focusing my attention on the door that refuses to open as he passes me. My breath catches as he steps behind me, his pace slowing.