It's a Wonderful Lie

Chapter Three

Emery

My room is nice with a distant view of the mountain. Not as extravagant as I expected based on the opulence of the outside and the lobby, but it’s got a king bed and a clean bathroom, so I’m not complaining.

I usually don’t unpack my suitcase on vacation, but with the amount of dresses I was forced to bring and the fact that I’ll be here for a few days, I feel like it’s probably best to just get everything put away. Having control over something, even something as small as this, also sounds like a treat.

As I’m hanging things up I find the dress and I curse myself for packing it. Who in their right mind packs a dress they got dumped in for their sister’s wedding festivities? Especially when they picked it out thinking it would be the dress they got engaged in…

I’m such a loser.

I remember seeing it in a window display at a cute little shop down the street from where I work. Their window displays are always adorable, but I always thought their clothes were too stylish for me when I dress much more simply, so I never bothered to go in before. But something about this dress was different. I had to go in and try it on.

And the second I did, I knew it was my dress. Like something magical was going to happen to me in that dress. The ruby red satin hugged me perfectly while the corseted boning pushed up what little cleavage I have and the ruched fabric over the bust gave me the appearance of a larger endowment, as well. A midi wrap style skirt amplified my hips in a way that showed them off as my best asset and not disproportionately to the rest of my body, as I usually saw them. Plus, the shape gave the illusion of a forward slit that I imagined Merrick wanting to open up, like he was unwrapping the best present.

While the dress in my hands is still as gorgeous as ever, the image in my head associated with it causes a nauseous stirring in my gut. And that sucks.

I allow myself a couple of minutes to sit in pity on the floor before I snap myself out of it.

“No,” I say out loud, standing with the dress still in hand, “you are not doing this anymore. This is it. This is the last of it.”

I begin pacing the room, thinking of what I can do to establish this in my head as the end of one era and the beginning of the next. I need something tangible or else I might fall back into old patterns, which I can’t do anymore.

I look down at the dress and then at the clock on the nightstand. It’s a little after eleven at night. One of the hotel bars should still be open. I rush into the bathroom with a devilish gleam in my eye and a plan ready for action.

—————

It’s almost midnight by the time I walk into the Lookout Bar, a late-night spot with a gorgeous view of the lake and the back of the property. Since it’s the holiday season at a large resort, the room is actually more crowded than I anticipated. Unfortunately, this means that no one even looks my way as I strut towards the bar, completely transformed from my earlier self. My makeup is pristine, my hair is curled, and I’ve matched the dress with a stellar pair of strappy gold heels.

At 5’9” it’s been years since I last wore heels out since Merrick hated that they made me taller than him. Now that he’s gone, I’m going to show off my long legs, even if my feet hurt in the morning.

But once I sit down at the bar as casually look around, I begin to worry I may have flown too close to the sun with my plan. Everyone here is paired off, or in groups and no one even noticed me walk in.

Kind of hard to get my flirt on when there’s no one to flirt with.

Because that’s the plan. Get dolled up, get hit on, prove to myself that Merrick is an i***t for not wanting me—especially in this dress—and then burn it in the giant fire pit before evening s’mores hour tomorrow. My proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes moment.

I order a vodka tonic from the bartender, who doesn’t seem to linger on me so he’s not a flirt contender either, and begin to slowly allow the pity party to seep back to the surface. Dammit.

I don’t let much time pass before I’m on my second drink and begin whispering under my breath about how stupid this whole idea was in the first place.

“Should have just burned the dress,” I mutter, taking a long sip of my drink.

“That would have been a travesty,” a dark voice on my left surprises me, “that dress deserves to be worn, not burned.”

I look up to find one of the sexiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on sitting one stool over from me. I have no idea if he was here before me because he’s much older and not someone I would have scoped out when I arrived. But if his deep voice that washed over me like a cool rain shower on a hot day wasn’t enough to pique my interest, the eyes that are now locked on mine sure is.

His dark gray irises are like mirrors, reflecting my own image through his viewpoint. I can see his every thought in them and my heart races as I’m finally getting the reaction I wanted all night. Attraction, longing, desire. He’s interested in me.

And though his thick, brown hair is lightly peppered with roots of gray, I’m not too proud to admit that he might be one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen in person. Like a spy from a classic Hollywood film. There’s no doubt he’s much older than me, but his outward charm is timeless.

And I am… intrigued.

“Hmm,” I hum, poking my tongue in my cheek as I continue to take him in, “then I guess I made the right choice.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” the stranger smiles and it immediately hits me between my legs, forcing me to cross them in his direction to relieve the pressure, “just wanted to make sure no beautiful dresses were harmed this evening.”

“I appreciate the intervention,” I rotate my seat so I’m facing him more directly, leaning into the bar top, “but I can’t make any promises about what state the dress will be in by morning.”

His eyes give me a discerning look over the top of his whiskey glass, “Is that so?”

“What?” I laugh lightly as he scans me like he’s trying to read my mind.

“I can’t tell if you already have something planned,” the edges of his wide mouth tip up and his eyes crackle with something akin to passion, “or if you’re planning on something happening.”

Licking my lips, I rake my teeth over my bottom lip as I smile in return. “Normally I’d say neither. But tonight? Probably both.”

He’s just about to respond when the bartender steps in front of me and announces, “Last call.”

The trance between me and the handsome stranger is momentarily broken and I internally curse the bartender for having the absolute worst timing. What was he going to say? I’m way beyond flirting territory by now and have landed deep in the trenches of coming onto him. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know it would feel absolutely amazing if he invited me back to his room.

I haven’t had a one night stand since college and I don’t know if I have it in me to say yes, which might not be fair to him, but just to be asked would be the morale boost I need to get through the rest of this week, if I’m really being honest with myself.

“You can charge both our drinks to the Alpine Suite,” he pulls a one-hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and leaves it on the bar, “thanks.”

Oh, s**t. That was hot.

He turns to me as he stands from his seat and smiles that panty melting smile again—if only I’d worn underwear, “Thanks for the company. It was the highlight of my evening.”

My heart drops when he leaves it at that. As he starts to walk away, the knot in my stomach continues to tighten. I can’t tell if you already have something planned or if you’re planning on something happening. I planned my whole life and where has that gotten me? Nowhere I actually want to be.

Maybe tonight is my chance to just let life happen to me for once. Forget all the rules I’ve made and just have fun for the sake of fun.

Before he has the chance to pass me on his way out the door, I press my hand into his chest and am met with a wall of hard muscle underneath his button up shirt. I can’t help but lick my lips at the delicious feel of his body, even through the fabric. Just the thought of what I’m about to do is already turning me on more than Merrick ever did.

“The evening doesn’t have to be over,” I offer, looking up at him through the lashes I thickened with mascara to give me a doe-eyed gaze I hope he can’t resist. “The talking was lovely, but maybe we could go back to your room and…talk less…”