Page 5 of Rage Finish

Do not look back. Do not look back. Do. Not. Look. Back.

He stops to ask, “Is your card not working?” I turn, and as our eyes meet, his widen. “Fuck.” The word is a soft whisper from his lips.

My heart pounds against my chest, the sound ringing in my ears, and I pull the towel tighter around my chest. It does little to hide anything. One would think a hotel as nice as this one could afford normal-sized towels for the pool. This one is a glorified hand towel trying to cover my curves.

“I, uh, yeah.”

Wyatt slides a hand through his damp blond locks, then cups the back of his neck. “Would you like to use my phone?”

I swallow thickly, my reply escaping me before I can stop it. “Yes, please. Where is your room?”

He smiles brightly and takes two extra steps to the room next door, effortlessly swiping his key against the reader. His door opens without issue, and he holds it open. “After you. I can wait out here, if you’d like.”

A smart woman wouldn’t step into a stranger’s hotel room, or at the very least, she’d take him up on the offer to remain outside. Since I have the survival skills of a panda, I sashay into his room to use his phone without so much as a second thought. The space is identical to mine, but it’s a mirror image. There’s a phone on the desk, which has a laptop plugged in and a stack of books beside it. I pick up the receiver and glance over my shoulder to find Wyatt kicking off his sandals and tossing his towel into the bathroom. As my eyes catch on his toned back, the towel lands with a plop. My cheeks heat, and the thud has me quickly looking away to dial the front desk.

“Reception,” a man greets.

“Hi, yes, I received two keys at check-in, and the one I used just now isn’t working.”

“My apologies. You’re in room 414?”

“No.” I shake my head, even though no one can see it. “I’m using my…” What the hell do I call him? “Neighbor’s phone. I’m in 412.”

“Can you confirm the name on the reservation?”

I cup the receiver and whisper, “Marino.”

“I have your information right here, Ms. Marino. I’ll have another key made up and available for you at the front desk. You’ll just need to verify with your ID or the card on file.”

“My ID is in my room, and I don’t know what card was used. My publisher reserved the room for me.”

“Ah, I see. Well, if you can come to the front desk, we’ll see what we can do.”

“Great,” I groan. “I’ll be there in a few.”

I hang up, and Wyatt asks softly, “Everything okay?”

“No. I have to go down to the front desk to sort it out.”

He rubs at his jaw, then makes his way over to one of the beds where his suitcase lies open. Pulling out a tee and what appear to be sweatpants, he offers, “You can borrow these if you’d like.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly⁠—”

“I insist. Feel free to take a shower, too. I can step out while you change. I’ll even leave my key with you until you’re finished.”

Pulling the pointless towel tighter around me, I shake my head. “I don’t want to impose. Especially after…” I can’t utter the words, ashamed of my behavior.

“After what?” He offers a small smile that reaches his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be this kind to me.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, his brows furrow, and he asks curiously, “Why shouldn’t I be kind?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

Wyatt lightly wets his lips, then replies, “I do. But that doesn’t mean I’d let you stand out in the hall dripping wet.”

“I’m not…” I glance down. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Now I’m soaking your floor.”