Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
What she may not be able to live with is what I did at the group home. The one secret I still carry with me. Not even Jesse or my therapist knows.
But I relent. I relent because I want to please Diana. And frankly, this place looks amazing.
“Fine. We’ll stay here. I’ll buy you dinner. I bet they have some great Mexican food here at the hotel restaurant.”
“I’m sure they do.” She smiles. “Mexican food sounds great.”
I pull into a parking spot, and we walk into the Spanish-style hotel.
The lobby is just as intricate as the exterior. We cross floors of polished terracotta tiles, and the walls are plastered in earth tones, interrupted only by large windows which, I imagine, offer views of the stunning desert landscape outside in daylight. A grand kiva-style fireplace anchors the area, surrounded by plush leather sofas with gorgeous Native American-inspired prints. We approach a large reception desk adorned with decorative pottery.
“You can take a seat on one of those couches,” Diana says. “I’ll take care of the rooms.”
I’ve barely taken a seat and started to examine the colorful patterns of the sofa’s throw pillows when Diana returns, handing me a key card. “Here you go. Adjoining rooms.”
“You could’ve just gotten one room,” I say. “You can trust me to keep my hands to myself.”
She shakes her head. “I got two rooms for you. Something personal is going on with you, Dragon, and I want you to have your space if you need it.”
Her words surprise me.
This woman is really something. Something I never should’ve touched—never should’ve soiled with my sin.
“I know I can trust you,” she continues. “That’s not what this is about. I promise.”
We head to the elevator and go up to the third floor where our rooms are. I slide my key card through the reader, and the door unlocks with a barely audible click. The room is impressive, tastefully decorated in warm hues of reds and oranges. There’s a large king-size bed with a forest-green down comforter covered in a silhouetted cactus pattern, a small sitting area with plush chairs, and a flat-screen television mounted on the wall.
But it’s the view from the spacious balcony that makes my breath hitch. As I step out, the last rays of sunlight are fading away, casting long shadows over the mountains in the distance. Beside me, Diana steps out onto her adjoining balcony, looking just as awed as I feel.
“Diana,” I start to say, but she cuts me off with a gentle shake of her head.
“Enjoy the view,” she murmurs. “We can talk over dinner.”
We stand there for a few more moments, drinking in the stunning vista before us.
Eventually, we tear ourselves away. I pull out a fresh shirt, trying not to think about the conversation that lies ahead. Diana steps inside her room.
I stand in front of the mirror to brush out my long hair. The man staring back at me is a man I hardly recognize. He’s a man with weight on his shoulders and secrets tucked deep inside, a man who has found something precious where he least expected it. He’s a man feeling an emotion that is just as alien as it is intoxicating.
A soft knock echoes from the connecting door between our rooms. “Ready?” Diana asks through the door.
“Just a minute,” I call back.
I put on my shoes and then open the door between our rooms. I have to stop myself from gasping at Diana, who looks as beautiful as ever. Her dark hair is pulled back, revealing the graceful line of her neck and the elegant curve of her shoulders. She wears jeans and a V-neck sweater, and on her feet are burgundy leather short boots.
“Wow,” I can’t help murmuring.
Her lips curve. “Look who’s talking.”
I offer her my arm—something I’m not sure I’ve ever done—and together we leave our rooms and head downstairs to the hotel restaurant.
The scents of cumin and cilantro fill the air as the host ushers us to a table. Flickering candles cast shadows around the room. A musician is playing a Spanish melody on a guitar in one corner of the room. I’m not a fan of music while I eat, but it’s so soft that I kind of like it.
Once we’re seated, Diana looks around. A server brings margaritas to the table next to us, and Diana smiles.
“That’s Donny’s favorite drink,” she says.
“You told me,” I say. “That’s hilarious.”
“I know. Dad with his bourbon and Dale with his wine—” She clasps her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Dragon. I shouldn’t be talking about alcohol.”
I shake my head. “I’m good. I made it through the party last weekend without indulging. Made it through getting arrested, made it through talking with an investigator about—”
“Hey,” she says. “I told you I would tell you what happened at work and why I had to leave.”