After no small amount of humiliation getting my body back into the canoe, Dalton shot himself in like a trained dolphin at Sea World, and we were paddling back to shore.
We got the canoe and everything put away, then walked back up the hill, which was much steeper and longer than when we walked down or came up in the golf cart.
Back at the resort, Dalton stopped by the front desk and notified the woman working there that we’d accidentally broken the canoe’s padlock, but to charge the repair to his room.
The woman looked at me, sopping wet and doing the Dripping Walk of Shame, then over at Dalton, equally waterlogged. Without a doubt, she knew exactly what had happened, more or less.
“The hot tub is open until midnight,” she said cheerily. “Please note that there is no lifeguard on duty.”
He gave her a wink, then strode over to me and wrapped his soggy arm across my soggy shoulders.
“What do you say, dear? A little hot tub party?”
“Sure! But if you don’t mind, I’ll just pop by the room to get my swimsuit this time.”
We proceeded to our room, my wet shoes making those squippy-squippy noises that only wet shoes can.
~
Lucky for us, we’d left our phones and wallets back in the hotel room, so nothing was drenched in the lake except my pride and last shreds of dignity.
I checked my messages while I got into my bathing suit and a robe. I had the usual assortment of messages from Shayla, not about anything in particular, plus one from Mitchell. He was pretending to be just saying hi, but betraying his excitement about his upcoming visit to Washington State.
Mitchell: What’s up, Peach-a-bootylicious? We have to hang out soon! I should plan a road trip.
Me: Dalton told me about the surprise! I know you’re coming up to help with the wedding!
Mitchell: What wedding?
Me: Don’t make me beg!
Mitchell: The secret’s out? What do you know?
Me: That you’re coming up!
Mitchell: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! I’m so excited! Can you tell?
Me: Dalton is trying to get my phone from me. We went for a canoe paddle and he tipped me over. He’s a disaster!
Mitchell: You love him!
Me: Maybe.
Mitchell: I’m going to cry like a hooker at your wedding.
Me: Like a hooker?
Mitchell: Like a hooker in church on Christmas morning.
Me:…
I couldn’t respond, because Dalton tried again to take my phone from me again.
“Who the hell is making you giggle like that?” he demanded.
“Calm down, it’s just Mitchell. Jealous much?”
His chest puffed up. “I don’t get jealous.”
Right, I thought. So, I just imagined all those times he got jealous about me being with other guys.
I opened my mouth to respond, but then decided I would let him believe what he wanted to believe. He’d had a rough day, but we were enjoying a romantic evening. I don’t allow other people to shush me, but, from time to time, I’m capable of shushing myself.
We grabbed some towels from the bathroom to take to the steam room and hot tub, and ventured out of our room for more excitement.
CHAPTER 30
Sunday morning.
How had the window gotten on the wrong side of the room? Who was that snoring? Why was I in bed wearing my one-piece swimsuit and a flip-flop on one foot?
It dawned on me that I wasn’t at home in my own bed.
I opened my eyes and took in the unfamiliar but not unpleasant surroundings of the winery resort’s second-best room. My parents were down the hall in the luxury suite. Sleeping next to me was TV’s Drake Cheshire.
Hmm.
No, this wasn’t my usual Sunday morning.
My bladder had a mission for me, though, so I bravely swung my legs out from under the covers. My bare foot landed on something warm and soft. I recoiled and huddled back on the bed.
There on the carpet, spread-eagle on his back, was Dalton’s father, Jake “Big Dick” Blake. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming.
Jake wasn’t naked, exactly. He was technically in a pair of boxers, but not all of him was in his boxers.
The boxers were the kind with a loose split down the front. A very loose split.
That’s right.
The porn star’s one-eyed trouser snake was wide awake and catching a little morning sun.
Keeping my eyes carefully averted, I shimmied over to the foot of the bed and slowly climbed off. I slipped off the one flip-flop, which I didn’t recognize as my own, and went into the bathroom.
I locked the door, turned on the shower and fan for privacy, and sat down with my face in my hands as flashes of the previous evening came back to me.
Putting the pieces together took some time.
I got into the shower in a daze.
As I finished my shower and got dried off, I had most of the events sorted out.
We’d gone to the hot tub the night before, where we had the steamy room to ourselves. We’d been sitting in the hot tub for about five minutes’ worth of kissing when Dalton’s father came into the room. He had a woman on either arm and a bottle of liquor in one hand.