5. Remi

"One percent of the population can dream while awake." ~ Tim Rhodes

Thoughts whirledin my mind as we stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor.

Was this really happening?

Had I fallen asleep and was just dreaming this?

It was possible since I hadn't slept in nearly thirty-six hours. Maybe I was still on the plane headed to California and was napping in seat 5A. Maybe Ana wasn't real at all. Maybe we weren't about to share a room together. Maybe Misty hadn't had an affair; she wasn't pregnant, and we were still together.

No. If I had been dreaming, that would not have happened. The thought of Misty being unfaithful had never even occurred to me before. I'd trusted her completely. Other guys on the crew worried about being gone for so long at a time, not me. Although, with the benefit of hindsight, I realized I should have.

That was a thought for another time. Right now, I was living in the moment, just like I did when I was fighting fires. I wasn't thinking about tomorrow or yesterday; I was totally present.

This entire night felt surreal, but if it was a dream, I sure as hell didn't want to wake up from it.

When we reached room 406, my pulse raced like a Bugatti Super Sport with Andy Wallace behind the wheel, breaking world speed records as I slid the card into the reader. The green light came on. I opened the door and held it so she could walk in front of me, then stepped in myself with her luggage and my bag. As the latch of the door closed behind me, I noticed her take a short, shallow breath.

If you're uncomfortable, I don't need to stay. I'll be fine in the lobby."

She turned around, and the corners of her mouth tilted up. "Are you kidding me? I'm not passing up the opportunity to share a hotel room with Kyle Chandler."

I smiled and had to admit that I felt relieved. Not because I gave a shit about sleeping in the lobby. As a wildland firefighter, I'd slept in much worse conditions. I was just happy that our time together wasn't over.

"Okay, but if you change your mind or, at any point, get uncomfortable, just say the word."

Her head tilted, and a wide smile spread across her face, causing the apples on her cheeks to round. Fuck. That smile could end me.

"You're a good egg," she said as her stomach growled loudly.

"And it sounds like you're a hungry egg. I'll order food."

After a brief discussion, we decided on the Chinese place next door. It had a few things going for it. One was its proximity. Two, there was a menu in the room, which made ordering easier. Three, I could walk and wouldn't have to wait for a delivery person since I had a feeling a lot of people might be eating in on this stormy night.

I made the call and put it on speakerphone so we could both place our orders. She ordered chicken chow mien, pork fried rice, and fried wontons. After she did, I realized I'd missed being around a woman who didn't seem to have dietary restrictions.

The entire eight years I'd known Misty, she was perpetually on a diet because of her career. She never ate carbs or empty calories. I applauded her dedication and discipline, and until this moment, I hadn't even realized it was something that I'd noticed.

I sort of felt like a dick that I had now, and that I was comparing her to Ana, but I wasn't going to be too hard on myself, considering she was pregnant with another man's baby.

"Will that be all?" the man on the line asked after I finished my order.

"Yep."

"And what is the name?"

I looked up at Ana and smiled. "Kyle."

"Okay, Kyle. Give us about ten minutes."

When the line disconnected, I hung up and said, "I guess since we're going to be spending the night together, I should tell you my real na?—"

"No!" She raised her hand like a backup singer in The Supremes, singing "Stop in the Name of Love."

"Uh…" I couldn't help but be a little taken aback by her reaction. "Okay."

"Sorry, it's just…" She lowered her arm as she shifted from one foot to the other. Her huge green eyes stared up at me as she bit her lower lip. The sight of her teeth sinking into her pillowy pink lip sent arousal surging through me. Her breath was unsteady as she inhaled and then exhaled. "Can we just be Ana and Kyle tonight?"

We could be anyone she wanted, as long as it meant we could continue spending time together.

"Sure." I nodded.

"Thanks." She took in a deep breath. "I just…I feel like this is…I think… this feels special, and that makes it more special."

"Special," I repeated in agreement.

"And can we also not do the small talk thing?"

"Small talk thing?"

"I hate small talk. I don't want to know how old you are, where you live, or what you do for a living. If we're going to talk, I want it to be real."

"Real?"

"Yes, real."

I had never felt more real with anyone, so I didn't think that was too much to ask.

"Okay."

When I agreed, her face lit up with surprise and delight, like a kid who'd just asked to go to Disneyland, and their parents said yes. She looked so fucking cute, it made my chest ache.

As I stared down at her, my jeans began to grow tight. It was the first time in my life I'd ever been turned on by someone being adorably endearing. It was refreshing and also terrifying since I didn't even know her name and she didn't want to know mine.

Figuring I'd better get out of there before I did something stupid like cross a line by telling her that I could easily spend the rest of my life looking into her eyes and making her smile and be the happiest man in the world, I decided to go get the food.

"I'll be right back, Ana."

On my short walk to the Chinese food restaurant, my phone rang, and I saw that it was Misty. Again. She'd called when I'd been at the front desk. She wanted to know if I was okay, and she wanted to apologize again. She also wanted to know if I'd be coming home before the wedding. I'd gotten off the phone with her before answering because I'd seen out of the corner of my eye that Ana had been done checking in, and I didn't want her to go to her room without saying goodbye to her.

I sent her straight to voicemail as I walked into the restaurant to grab our food. As I waited for my food, I listened to the message, and it just asked if I was coming home. I thought about it, but decided I didn't see the point. It would make more sense to change my flight from LAX to DFW.

On the way back to the hotel, my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out and saw that Misty had left me a text telling me that if I decided to go straight to Texas, she would overnight my tux to my sister's house. I needed alterations on it, but I'd planned on getting them done in Wishing Well.

Part of me wondered if this was just a way to find out if I'd be home so that she wasn't there with Jagger, but that was probably just paranoia. She'd always been considerate and wasn't manipulative. This was just her way of trying to take care of me after the news she'd dropped. On the elevator ride up to the fourth floor, I shot her back a text.

Me: That would be great. Thanks.

As I walked back down the hallway toward the room, I had a strange feeling that Ana wouldn't be there when I opened the door. Maybe she was a ghost, who was stuck in the afterlife, and somehow, our interaction had sent her to the other side. Or I'd had a psychotic mental split after hearing the news about Misty, and she was a figment of my imagination.

Honestly, those explanations were still more viable in my mind than the off chance I'd just met the woman I had. She was perfect in every single way, and I didn't even know her name. Which, I sort of agreed with her, made whatever was happening here that much more special.

When I got back to the room, I realized I didn't have the key, so I knocked. The door opened, and Ana smiled widely. "Hi."

"Hi." I walked past her and saw the table set up with two hotel glasses filled with ice, cans of soda from the vending machine, a candle that I had no clue where it came from, and soft music was playing from her computer, which was on the tiny couch.

A wide smile spread on my face. "What's all this?"

"You said you've never really dated; I thought this could be your practice run."

Just when I thought she couldn't get more perfect; and more adorable, she did this.

I walked over and set the bags on the table. "This is…"

"Too much?" She lifted her hands up in a questioning gesture.

"No, it's not. It's perfect. I love it. I'm just going to go wash up."

I went into the bathroom and washed my hands. I already thought I had to be dreaming, and now I come back to this…

When did this happen in real life?

Maybe it was just the universe, or karma, or God's way of balancing the scales of good and evil. My plane gets grounded, but I get upgraded to first class, which gives me access to the executive lounge. I find out Misty is pregnant with another man's baby, but I meet Ana and end up sharing a hotel room with her.

Actually, I felt like the scales were tilting in my favor.

When I walked out, I found Ana removing the oyster pails from the plastic bags and opening them. When she stared down at the contents in the to-go containers, her expression grew alarmed.

"Is everything okay?"

"Your food's not here. They gave us double chow mien, fried rice, and won tons, but there is no sweet and sour pork, dim sum, or dumplings."

"That's fine."

"No. It's not." She shook her head and picked up her phone. "I heard what you ordered, and this is not it."

I could see that it bothered her more than me. There was no way I was going to waste a second of the time I got to spend with her, going back to the restaurant to pick up my original order.

I reached out and covered her hand before she could bring the phone to her ear. "I really don't mind. I love chow mien and fried rice."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Neither of us moved our hands. We just stood there staring at one another. As much as I loved the feeling of her silky, soft skin beneath mine, I forced myself to drop my arm before I gave into the urge to lift her fingers to my mouth and kiss her knuckles like I was some Victorian-era suitor.

After clearing my throat, I sat down, and we both worked to fill our plates. Once mine was overflowing, I noticed a stack of what looked like playing cards on the table, except they had tiny cupids on them.

"What are these?" I picked one up.

"Have you heard of Dr. Vanessa Cupid?"

I had, actually. She was married to Cooper Briggs, whose brother, Wyatt Briggs, had been mine and Kane's third musketeer growing up.

"Yeah. I have."

She seemed a little surprised at my response. "Oh, okay, well, these are a pack of icebreaker questions for people to use on first dates or with their partners to increase intimacy."

The moment she said the word intimacy, a blush rose on her cheeks. I wanted to point out how cute it was, but decided against it.

"You just carry these around with you?"

Her lips pursed, and I wasn't sure if I'd said the wrong thing. "I like to be prepared, and I hate wasting time. And, like I said, I'm not a fan of small talk. Time is valuable to me. If I'm going to get to know someone, I'd much rather not waste it on subjects that are not important."

"Right. Makes sense." Everything I learned about her only made me want to know her more. Maybe these cards would solve that problem.

"Do you want to ask me a question first or…" Her voice trailed off.

"Sure." I turned over the card and read, "Which one of your parents are you most like?"

"My dad," she quickly replied. "I mean, I don't really remember him because he died when I was five."

"I'm so sorry. My dad died when I was nine."

"I'm sorry." We exchanged a knowing look before she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued, "But I'm nothing like my mom is. Or was… She died ten years ago."

"I'm so sorry." I apologized again.

"Don't be. She was…she had issues. Growing up, she was, um, she wasn't well. She was an undiagnosed bipolar alcoholic."

I nodded in understanding. My mom had suffered several long bouts of depression. "Yeah, my mom was… For the first nine years of my life, she was amazing, but then after my dad died, she…she had some issues."

"How did you lose your dad? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she quickly stated.

"No, it's fine. It was sort of a freak thing. He was totally healthy, and then one morning before work, he had an epileptic seizure in the shower. They rushed him to the emergency room, and a few hours later the doctors came out and told me and my mom that they did everything they could, but he was gone."

She exhaled, and I could feel empathy radiating off of her.

"What happened with your dad? If you don't mind saying."

"No, um, yeah. He was in a car accident. Another driver fell asleep at the wheel and hit us head-on."

"Us?" I repeated.

She nodded. "I was in the truck, too, riding shotgun."

"But you are; you were okay?" I knew that I was stating the obvious since she was sitting right in front of me, but for some reason, I needed to hear her say it to confirm that she was okay.

"Yeah." She brushed her hair to the side, and I saw a scar that ran the length of her hairline above her left eye. "I hit my head on the window. They had to remove glass from here, and I got seven stitches."

Without thinking about it, I lifted my hand and brushed my thumb along the scar. She closed her eyes as her lips parted. I had the strongest urge to lean forward and kiss her. It was more than a desire or a want; it was a primal need. A surge of primitive drive to close the distance between us and claim her mouth in a kiss that would leave no doubt that she was mine overtook me. But I resisted it. As much as I wanted to kiss her, I wanted to get to know her more.

So, instead of giving into my base instinct, I lowered my arm. Her eyes opened, and in her emerald gaze, I saw the same desire I'd just felt mirrored back at me. Just like my own craving, I ignored it and focused on my hunger for food.

We sat, eating our noodles and rice, and volleyed questions back and forth. I took mental notes on what all her responses and stories revealed. I absorbed the information like a sponge. It was like everything she said—each word she spoke fused into my DNA. It was unlike any conversation I'd ever had. It felt as though each response connected the dots to paint a complete picture of who she was.

When asked what her most memorable birthday was, she relayed that it was the time her mother planned a surprise party for her ninth birthday with no children her own age and only alcohol to drink, which happened to be not only on the wrong day but also the wrong month. Her mom had made a big show of apologizing when it was pointed out to her, and then started crying and playing the victim, which sounded like the textbook definition of gaslighting to me. She said that experience, along with others from being raised by a bipolar alcoholic, led to her hating not only surprises but also apologies. She valued actions, not words.

Other stories revealed that she was excellent at compartmentalizing her life. A psychologist she saw when she was young explained how to put things into files in her mind and then take them out when she was ready to deal with them. It was a skill she'd learned early on, and it had helped her in her adulthood deal with missing people and a high-stress job.

Not that I knew what that job was.

Another clue she gave me about her career was that she mentioned something that served her well in crisis situations; she never got nervous. Whenever a situation occurred that she felt unsure about, she instantly went into problem-solving mode, and she shut off emotionally. Even though she didn't relate that particular trait to her childhood, I assumed it was also a result of her upbringing.

Also, she revealed she loved rules; they made her feel safe. She loved rules so much that she'd even implemented a three-strike rule for the men she dated. I also took note of some of the infractions that had sent other men back to the bench. I knew that if I was lucky enough to get up to the plate in her dating game, I would do everything humanly possible not to strike out.