“Yeah, but you can walk on it,” Chloe tells him. “It sounds like it’s a nice hike. Most of it’s along the bay.”
“What about Alcatraz?” Coop suggests.
Chloe shakes her head. “You have to book reservations in advance.”
“I thought you did?” Vanessa asks. “Didn’t you forward the ticket info to me?” I catch sight of Vanessa reaching for her phone in my rearview mirror.
Chloe tips her chin upward, closing her eyes. “They were for the wrong date.”
“Wrong date?” Vanessa asks.
“We’d planned to get here last night, originally.”
The reminder packs a wallop of a punch. We’d left Austin late and stayed in Odessa overnight, causing everything to get pushed back by a day, including arriving here in San Francisco.
Our conversation in the hotel reception back in Texas plays in my mind, the way she’d tried broaching her frustrations for changing our plans, and my reaction to tell her it didn’t matter.
The queue of cars we’re in moves forward, and when we reach the tollbooth, I shove the money toward the man, my impatience rumbling like an afternoon storm in the South. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask her.
She glances at me, a shade of hesitancy across her features that I haven’t seen in days. I haven’t missed it.
I reach to hit my call button on the dash, but Chloe shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get us tickets. It’s totally fine. We only have one day, and Alcatraz takes several hours, so it would be difficult to make it all fit.”
My thoughts turn restless as annoyance creeps over me, guilt and regret working their best to deny culpability and refute that she should have told me. We could have canceled a day in Vegas and made it here.
“This is amazing,” Chloe says, her attention focused on the bridge, ducking her head in an attempt to see the high towers and cables.
“We should go and do something tonight,” Vanessa suggests. “It’s not that late. Even if we just take a walk or something.”
Chloe brushes her hand over mine, the bridge and bay outside her window forgotten as her eyes rove over my face. “It’s not a big deal.”
I blow out a breath, knowing she’s right and struggling to admit the fact. Her fingers weave with mine.
“We’re staying by Fisherman’s Wharf,” Chloe says. “Let’s check-in, and we can see how everyone’s feeling and maybe go down to the Pier 39.”
“Yes!” Vanessa answers, ducking so she can see something that she points out to Cooper.
“I expected more hills,” Cooper says.
I chuckle. “Just wait. You’ll find plenty of big-ass hills here.” I gently squeeze Chloe’s fingers, releasing a breath and the tension that threatens to spoil our limited time.
She grins, reading me like an open book.
The hotel looks out over the ocean, a pristine view that I know will steal Chloe’s attention during our short time here.
“It smells good up here,” Vanessa says, taking a deep breath from the patio we’re gathered on, picking at the charcuterie board that welcomed us to the room.
“You’re smelling the Italian restaurant over there,” Cooper says, leaning forward.
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “It’s the sea air.”
Cooper’s forehead creases with disbelief. “Pretty sure it’s the garlic bread.”
Chloe chuckles, turning to face us from the rail she’s leaning against. “Forget the garlic bread. We need to go find some sourdough.”
“Yes!” Vanessa says, nodding.
Chloe shivers as she takes a step closer to me. “I need to change though. It’s cold tonight.” It’s not that cold, but compared to Vegas and the other cities we’ve been in, it feels chilly tonight.
I glance toward the living room where the trail of employees is starting to leave. “Our things should be in the rooms.” I open the glass door that leads into the small division between the dining room that sits eight and the living room.
“This might be my favorite hotel,” Vanessa says as the others follow me inside. “The chandeliers and the beige colors with dark floors and wood… It’s beautiful.”
“I like this one, too,” Chloe says. “But I really loved the New Orleans hotel.”
“Vegas was definitely the winner,” Cooper says. “There was a water fountain in our living room.”
Chloe laughs. “Vegas might be my favorite, too.” She glances at me. “The views there were pretty flawless.” Behind her benign words, I hear the insinuation, and they paint a mental picture of her up against the glass window, bringing a wave of desire to crash over me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says. “I’m going to change into warmer clothes.”
“I need to grab my charger,” I lie, following her down the hallway where she pauses, still unfamiliar with the new space we haven’t yet toured.
I place my hand on her hip and guide her to the door at the end of the hall on the right. “The rooms here are smaller, and we only have two bedrooms.”
Her gaze slides to me. Though she’s been staying with me since Vegas, her things have still been unpacked in a third room until now. The lights turn on as we step into the room, where a large bed sits atop a rug matching the same pattern as those in the living room. There’s another wall of windows, shorter than most of the hotels we’ve stayed at, and on the other wall is a large glass-encased shower with a tub where Chloe’s attention is paused.
“There’s a bathtub in here?”
“Is that a question?” I tease, and that this wows her is incredibly endearing. “It’s called a wet room,” I continue, “and it’s in here because of the views.” I sweep my arm toward the windows.
“But anyone can see in!”
“Whatever kinky thought you’re considering, I’m game,” I tell her.
Her cheeks darken with a blush. “Cooper and Nessie are waiting for us.”
I shrug, taking a step closer to her as her gaze darts to the opened door. “Want to time how long it takes for me to get you off?”
She laughs, taking a step back as she shakes her head. “No.”
I take another step, and she takes two more backward.
I charge
