6. Ellie

ellie

. . .

The Pineview Motel was one of those classic roadside motels with a big old sign out front boasting about its kitchenettes and swimming poo.

“I think someone stole their letter L,” Gianni said as we pulled up in front of the office.

“I certainly hope so.” I tried to relax—I’d been holding my breath for the entire five minutes it had taken us to crawl half a mile up the road, hazards blinking, both of Gianni’s hands gripping the wheel.

He put the SUV in park. “I’ll go in.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be alone out here.” I looked around—nothing but snow-covered evergreens surrounded the motel. “We’re in the middle of the woods. Someone with an axe could jump in the car and abduct me.”

He laughed. “The way you jabber, they’d bring you right back.”

We got out of the car and entered the lobby, which was small and shabby, but clean and tidy. It even smelled nice, like hot chocolate. The grandmotherly lady behind the desk looked up in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “Did you decide not to cancel?”

“Cancel?” I glanced back at Gianni, but he looked as confused as I was.

“Are you the Witherspoons?” she asked.

“Depends,” Gianni said. “Does that mean we could have a room for the night?”

“Two rooms,” I put in. I wasn’t about to spend the night in a confined space with Gianni Lupo.

“Oh, dear. We definitely don’t have two rooms,” said the woman, whose name tag read Rose . “In fact, an hour ago, we were totally booked. But we just had a cancellation.”

“We’ll take it.” Gianni pulled out his wallet. “You take credit cards?”

“Of course, dear.” Rose tapped a few keys on her computer. “How many nights?”

“One.”

“Dreadful storm, isn’t it?” Rose clucked her tongue. “I hear we might get two feet of snow! Of course, sometimes they say that, and we barely get anything at all.”

While Gianni arranged the reservation, I wandered away from the desk and checked out the photos hanging on the lobby walls—groups of smiling cross-country skiers captured in black and white, families enjoying lunch at picnic tables, kids splashing around in the shallow end of the swimming poo, squinting in the sun. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, I shivered.

Gianni came up behind me. “You cold?”

“Yes.” I turned to face him. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Yeah, Rose said they’re having a slight issue with the heat.”

“Even in the rooms?”

“I think so.”

“Great.”

“Also, the television in that room doesn’t work.” He grinned. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm and entertained.”

“Do we have a key?”

“Yeah. We’re number thirteen,” he said as we headed for the door. “I think that means I’ll get lucky tonight.”

“Think again,” I told him.

We got back in the car and drove to the end of the single-story building. A minute later, I stood shivering while Gianni tucked his gloves between his knees and fumbled with the lock on the dark green door to room 13. “Hurry up,” I said. “My toes are already numb.”

“Sorry. This thing is sticky.” But then it clicked—Gianni pushed it open and gestured for me to go in first.

The room was dark, so I couldn’t see anything until Gianni shut the door and switched on the light.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I stared at the lone bed opposite the door, sandwiched between two small tables in a room that could generously be called quaint .

Gianni stood next to me. “Damn. That’s a small bed. Is it...a queen?”

“Not even. I think it’s a full.”

Gianni looked around. “There’s no couch.”

My eyes wandered over the rest of the room. Pretty much everything was pine—the furniture, the walls, the floor. The bed was made up with white sheets, with a thick buffalo plaid blanket lying across the foot. Above the headboard was a window covered with curtains that matched the blanket. Along the wall on the right was a tiny two-burner stove, a small sink, a mini refrigerator, and about two feet of counter with two drawers and open cupboards beneath it. A second window looked out onto the parking lot, and in front of it was a tiny table with two wooden chairs. But no couch or anything one of us could sleep on.

We’d have to share the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Gianni said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d freeze.” I gestured to the bare floorboards. “There isn’t even a rug. We can be adults about it and share the bed.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“ No .” I shivered again. “God, it’s fucking arctic in here.”

“I can try turning up the heat.” Gianni tossed his gloves on a small table to the left of the door, set down his bag, and looked around for the thermostat.

Leaving my snow boots by the door, I wandered to the left and pushed open the door to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, I half expected to see a knotty pine toilet seat and tub, but it was the usual tiny motel bathroom—everything that was once white was slightly yellowed with age, but it appeared to have been freshly cleaned. The towels hanging on the bar weren’t thick, but they were bright white, and when I sniffed, I could smell bleach and—what else?—pine-scented cleaner.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I went back into the room, where Gianni was still bent over the thermostat. “I turned it up, but I think this might be as warm as it gets in here,” he said. “We might freeze to death after all.”

Suddenly all the shitty things that had gone wrong tonight hit me with the force of the storm outside. I dropped my face into my mittens and, to my utter humiliation, started to sob.

“Shit, I was only kidding.” A moment later, Gianni’s arms came around me, both of us still wearing our winter coats. He rubbed my back. “We’re not going to freeze, Ell. Don’t cry. We’ll be fine.”

“It’s not that.” Under normal circumstances, I’d never have let Gianni hold me, but his embrace was comforting. Or maybe it was just his body heat—I’d take it.

“What is it?”

“Just—everything! This whole night was such a shit show! Nothing about it went right. I had all these high hopes and big plans, and now I’m going to die of hypothermia in room thirteen at the Pineview Motel with you .”

“But it’s better than dying alone, right?”

I sniffed. “Is it?”

“Listen, I know tonight didn’t go as planned, and I’m sorry about that, but let’s look on the bright side.” While he talked, he kept stroking my back.

“What bright side?”

“Well, we’re not stuck on the side of the road, right? We have shelter for the night. We have some heat. We have snacks and?—”

“Wine.” I picked up my face from my hands and looked up at Gianni. “We have a few bottles of wine left over from the dinner party. It’s in the car.”

“Be right back,” he said, letting me go and taking his keys from his pocket.

When he opened the door, an icy wind rushed in and I hurried behind him to close it. There was a window right next to the door, and I pushed the plaid curtain aside, watching as Gianni opened the hatch and poked around in the back of his car. The snow was still coming down, and cars on either side of Gianni’s were covered. A minute later, he shut the trunk and came hustling back toward the room with a box in his arms.

Quickly, I opened the door and slammed it behind him. “Jesus! The windchill has to be twenty below!”

Gianni set the box on the floor and blew on his cold hands. “Seriously. My fingers are frozen and I was only out there a minute.”

Without thinking, I pulled my mittens off and walked over to him. “Here. Mine are warm.” I wrapped my hands around his best I could, since his were considerably larger than mine.

“Thanks.” He looked down at our handclasp. A moment later, our eyes met, and the room actually seemed warm for a moment.

I let him go and took a step back.

“Shit. Do we have an opener?” he asked, glancing at the wine. “I could try running back to the gas station, but Milton said he was closing up soon.”

“I always have a wine opener on me,” I said, going over to my bag.

He laughed. “Of course you do.”

“Hey, my mom’s a pain in my ass, but she did teach me a few useful things.” I pulled out my little corkscrew. “I never go anywhere without one of these, a spare pair of panties, and a toothbrush.”

“Smart.” He pulled off his boots and left them at the door next to mine. “My dad told me never to go anywhere without a condom.”

I rolled my eyes as I opened a bottle of pinot noir. “Because everywhere you go, girls want to have sex with you?”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m too hot to handle. And it’s good advice.”

“It is.” After working the cork free, I took two small glass tumblers from the cabinet above the stove and filled them.

“Want to give me your coat? I’ll hang it up for you.”

“I might keep it on. I’m still cold.”

“Here. You can put this on if you want.”

When I turned around, he stood there holding out the black sweater he’d been wearing earlier today. “Don’t you want to wear it?”

“I’m fine.” He tossed the sweater on the bed. “It’s yours if you want it.”

“Okay.” I set the wine down and gave him my coat. While he hung it next to his, I pulled his sweater over my head. It was huge and thick and warm. “Much better. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched me pull out my ponytail holder and shake my hair loose.

“What?” I said, unnerved by his stare.

“Nothing. I just never see you with your hair down. It looks nice.”

I studied him with suspicion. “You hang up my coat, you give me your sweater, you say something nice...”

“I let you get snot on me,” he reminded me, gesturing toward where I’d been standing when I burst into tears.

“Yeah, what is this? Who are you?”

“Hey, you’re the one who held my hand in the kitchenette.”

My jaw dropped. “I did not hold your hand in the kitchenette! I was merely trying to prevent frostbite.”

“Well, I was merely trying to make you feel better after a rough night. Because I’m a nice guy .” He reached out and flicked my earlobe.

“Stop it.” I swatted his hand away. “Just when I think you’ve changed, you turn into the playground bully again.”

He flashed his palms at me. “Hey. How about we call a truce for the night? No fighting.”

“Is that even possible when it’s just you and me holed up in this knotty pine igloo with no chance of escaping?”

“Yes. Because we are no longer eight-year-olds on the playground or even teenagers at the dunk tank—we are grown-ass adults and co-workers, and we are perfectly capable of surviving this night in peace.” He grabbed the plastic bag of snacks from the gas station and dumped them out on the bed—chips, cookies, candy, protein bars. “Plus we have good wine and enough salt and sugar in this bag to get us through winter.”

I turned around and picked up my wine. “Okay, then. Truce.”

He tapped his glass to mine. “Truce.”

I sat on one side of the mattress criss-cross applesauce, while he stretched out on the other end. Leaning back against the headboard, he extended his long legs, crossing his feet at the ankles.

My eyes traveled over him from head to foot. His muscular, six-foot-plus frame was going to take up a lot of space in this bed. We’d be right next to each other, under the covers, in the dark.

All. Night. Long.

I took a hefty gulp of wine.

“So what should we talk about?” Gianni reached for a bag of potato chips and opened it up. “Our goals and dreams? Our biggest fears? Our deepest, darkest secrets?”

“My goal is to make it through the night,” I said, taking another sip from my glass. “Maybe get a little drunk.”

“Aren’t you worried about what I’ll do if you get tipsy?”

I eyeballed him with suspicion. “What would you do?”

“I don’t know. Sit on you and let drool ooze out of my mouth until it’s about to hit your face and then suck it back in?”

“You wouldn’t dare. We called a truce, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He crunched on a chip. “I should have thought that through first.”

I set my wine on the table next to the bed and grabbed the package of M&M’s. Tearing it open, I popped a couple in my mouth. They were comforting, although I did wish I had a spoon and a jar of peanut butter. I should have looked for one at the gas station. “You know what? Junk food is exactly what I needed.”

He watched me shovel in another handful. “Is that your favorite candy or something?”

I nodded. “They melt in your mouth, not in your hand.”

“I love things that melt in my mouth,” Gianni said, and something about the way his lips wrapped around the words made me feel hot in the cold room.

I took a sip of my wine.

Gianni ate another chip. “So do you want to talk about tonight?”

“No.”

“Good. Then let’s play a drinking game.”

Tossing a few more M&M’s in my mouth, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Such as?”

“I don’t know. Truth or dare.”

“No, you’ll just dare me to get naked or something.”

He looked offended. “I don’t have to trick women into taking their clothes off, thank you very much. They volunteer.”

“Of course they do. Wait—I have an idea.” I got off the bed and dug my phone from my bag. “There’s an app called Truth or Drink. We used to play it at parties in college. You get random questions and you have to answer truthfully or drink.”

“So it’s honor system?”

“Yes.” I returned to the bed and looked at the screen. “Winnie called back. Hang on, let me listen to her voicemail.” I put the phone to my ear and heard Winnie’s voice, frantic with concern.

“Ellie! Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re out in this storm, it’s so bad! Please get off the road and don’t worry about anything here. Desmond is all set to cover your eleven o’clock tasting tomorrow, and he can cover the one o’clock too if necessary. But call me when you get this, or text me or something, so I’m not awake all night worrying about you!”

I looked at Gianni. “I should call her back. Do you think we’ll make it home by noon tomorrow? I have a one o’clock tasting.”

“If it stops snowing and the roads are plowed, yeah. We can leave first thing.” He crumpled up the empty bag of chips and picked up a protein bar. “Can I have this?”

I nodded and dialed Winnie’s number. She picked up immediately.

“Ellie?”

“Hey.”

“Thank God! You guys okay?”

“We’re fine.” I watched Gianni unwrap the bar. “We found a motel with a vacancy.”

“You mean you’re staying in a motel room together ?” she asked, loud enough for Gianni to overhear.

“Yeah. And there’s only one bed.”

She laughed. “How’s that going?”

“Fine.”

“You guys are getting along?”

Gianni made a lewd gesture involving his fist, his tongue, and his inner cheek. I gave him the finger. “As well as you’d expect.”

“I can’t wait to hear about it.”

“We’re going to try to get out of here as soon as we can in the morning. I’ll let you know when we’re on the road.”

“Sounds good.” She laughed again. “Sleep tight.”

“Oh. We will.” I eyed the length of the bed. “We have no choice.”

After ending the call, I opened the Truth or Drink app on my phone and picked up my wine. “Ready to play?”

“Hit me.”

I scrolled through the options. “Do you want to play normal mode, party mode, or dirty mode?”

Gianni looked at me like I was crazy. “Duh.”

I sighed and reached for my wine. “Okay, fine. I feel like I’m going to regret this, but dirty it is.”

“Can I take my pants off?”

“No. What’s your age range for a one-night stand?”

“Hmm.” Gianni thought for a moment.

“Please say at least eighteen.”

“No teenagers. I’ll say twenty to forty-five.”

“Forty-five? Really?”

He shrugged. “I think mature women are hot. But I can’t go near fifty because that’s my mom’s age and then it would be weird.”

“Right.”

“So what about you? Same question.”

“I’d have to say . . . thirty to forty.”

He looked offended. “Why thirty? You’re only twenty-three.”

And so was he, which was why I’d said it. “I know, but I think older men are just better in bed.” I’d actually never been with anyone over twenty-eight.

“In what way?”

“Just...more patient. More knowledgeable. More generous. Guys in their twenties think they’re all that just because they have younger bodies, especially if they’re—you know—well-endowed. But it’s not just the size of the boat. It’s definitely the motion of the ocean.”

He harrumphed. “You’ve been in the wrong boats.”

“Next.” I glanced at the screen. “Describe the perfect foreplay.”

“What’s foreplay?”

I looked up at him and blinked.

“I’m just kidding,” he said, laughing. “God, you should see your face. The perfect foreplay, hmm. I mean, it’s different every time. As opposed to whatever twenty-something two-pump chumps you’ve been with, I think I’m very patient and generous. I try different things and see what she responds to.”

“Like what?” The words were out before I could stop them.

His mouth hooked up on one side. “Just...different things. With my hands. Or my mouth.” He took a sip of his wine. “My tongue.”

I couldn’t stop staring at his lips on the rim of the glass. Beneath his sweater and my blouse, my skin was damp with heat. I struggled to breathe quietly.

“Now you,” he said. “Describe the perfect foreplay.”

Your hands on my thighs. Your tongue on my throat. Your lips so close to mine, but I won’t kiss you. I won’t kiss you.

“Ellie?”

I focused on his eyes again—those deep blue eyes knew what I was thinking, I could tell—and then took another drink. “Pass.”

He chuckled, his expression triumphant, like he’d won a round. “Next question.”

“If I had a hot sister, would you let her seduce you?”

“Hm. Is your mom an option?”

I glared at him, even as that dream about his hot dad jumped into my head.

“Relax, I’m kidding. Yes, I’d let your hot sister seduce me. But I’m not even asking you about my brothers.”

“Why not? How do you know I wouldn’t let the twins seduce me? They’re twenty-one, right?” I gave him a coy smile. “I might even let them seduce me at the same time.”

Gianni’s chiseled jaw fell open. “That’s not funny. You’d let those assholes seduce you but not me? They’re not even in your approved age range.”

I shrugged. “They didn’t tease me the way you did. And they don’t bug me every day at work.”

He reached for my phone. “Let me have a turn choosing the questions.”

“Fine.” I opened a bag of barbecue chips and started munching on them. “You know, these chips pair surprisingly well with this wine.”

He leaned over and stuck his hand in the bag, shoving a chip in his mouth. “You’re right, they do. We should have an event where we pair gas station snacks with good wine. Like, you save on the food, splurge on the wine.”

“Yes!” My glass was empty, so I got up and went over to get the bottle from the counter. After pouring myself a generous refill, I brought it over to the bed and refilled Gianni’s glass too. Setting the bottle and my glass on the table, I reached beneath the sweater and untucked my blouse from my pants. “Hey, close your eyes.”

He looked up from my phone. “Why?”

“Because I want to take my dress pants off. They’re not comfortable.”

“You said I couldn’t take off my pants.” He pointed at me. “That’s a double standard.”

“Fine, then take yours off, but turn around and face the other way.”

“Works for me.” Gianni got off the bed and dug a pair of jeans from his duffel bag. After tossing them on the bed, he faced the bathroom and unbuckled his belt. Then unbuttoned his pants. Then lowered the zipper. Then peeked over his shoulder at me. “Are you going to stand there and watch?”

Embarrassed, I spun around and faced the kitchenette. Hurrying, I removed my dress pants, tossed them aside, and grabbed the red and black plaid blanket off the foot of the bed. Wrapping it around my lower body, I snuck a glance at Gianni as he tugged up his jeans. The hem of his dress shirt covered his butt, so I couldn’t even see what kind of underwear he had on—or if he wore underwear at all. What if he was a commando kind of guy?

I quickly faced the kitchenette again and waited, my heart beating fast. After I heard his zipper, I asked, “Are you decent?”

“Yeah. Can I turn around now?”

“Yes.”

We faced each other at the same time, and when he saw me wrapped in the blanket, he started to laugh. “Ellie, that sweater covers way more than a bathing suit, which I have seen you in a hundred times.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I got back on the bed and pretzeled my legs again, keeping the blanket tucked around my lap. “Okay. Ask me your question now.”

He looked at the phone. “What did you think of sex the first time?”

I drank some more wine. “I thought it was overrated.”

“You did?” He laughed. “I thought the opposite. I was like, ‘how the hell does anyone ever get anything done?’ It was all I could think about.”

“I think I was expecting it to be like the movies. Or like in a romance novel. You know, a lot of bursting and exploding ,” I said dramatically. “ Cries of passion. Moans of ecstasy . Instead it was more like...grunt, grunt, snap, crackle, pop. I wondered what all the fuss was about.”

Gianni snorted with laughter. “I sincerely hope things have gotten better since then.”

“They have.” I grabbed my wineglass and brought it to my lips. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, no. You can’t just put that out there and walk away. What did you mean?”

I exhaled and took another sip. “I just feel like the guys I’ve been with are always in a rush. They don’t listen or pay attention. I mean, they act like they want me to finish, and they ask me things like, ‘Are you close?’ But I never feel like that question is actually about me. And I always feel like I have to say yes, even when the answer is no. I feel pressured, I get nervous. And then I fake it.”

Gianni’s jaw dropped. “You fake your orgasms?”

“Not all the time,” I said quickly. “Just sometimes.”

“How often?”

“Maybe like half the time. Or... three quarters.”

“Damn.” He shook his head. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” I drank again. “Why can’t guys just slow down and figure out what I like? It’s not that complicated.”

“What is it you like?”

“Is that the next question?” I pointed at the phone.

“No. I just want to know.” He leaned back and took a drink. “Tell me what you like.”

I swirled the wine in my glass. “I would like someone who doesn’t treat sex like it’s a race.”

“Do you tell them to slow down if they’re moving too fast?”

“I try to, but sometimes it’s awkward. I don’t want to seem like I’m too demanding.”

“Ellie, unless a guy is a total asshole, he wants you to finish. And it’s not in our nature to be patient when it comes to sex.”

“You said you’re patient,” I pointed out.

“I wasn’t always. I had to be taught.”

“Who taught you?”

“This woman I saw for a little while when I lived in New York. She was older—maybe like twenty-five—and I was nineteen, literally a fucking bull in a china shop. The first time we were together, she set me straight.” He drank again. “Taught me some very valuable lessons.”

I couldn’t imagine how confident a woman would have to be in order to give sex lessons.

“Anyway,” Gianni went on, “next time, tell him to slow down.” He sipped his wine. “What else do you like?”

I thought for a moment. “I like it when someone pays attention to unexpected places on my body—I’m not a target with a bullseye.”

“Okay, but you have to admit, there is sort of a bullseye when it comes to a woman’s orgasm.”

“Yeah. It’s called her brain.”

Gianni laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Look, I know the body part you’re thinking of, and I won’t say it’s not important—a guy should definitely be able to find it—but you can’t just flick it like it’s a light switch or go at it like you’re trying to scrape ice off your windshield.”

“So slow and gentle? That’s the motion you’d like on the ocean?”

“At least to start,” I said. “I like sex that goes somewhere. It can get fast or rough eventually, but I need a little time to go from zero to sixty. I understand that it’s less...complicated for a guy, but that’s no excuse for flooring it and expecting me to enjoy the whiplash. I want him to show me I’m worth the effort it takes to have some control.”

He nodded slowly. “I get that. But haven’t you ever just wanted to rip someone’s clothes off and go at it?”

My face grew hot. “Not really. So maybe it’s me that’s the problem. Maybe I’m too uptight. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“Not at all. You deserve what you want in bed, Ellie. I was only curious about what that is.” His eyes danced with mischief as he took another drink. “After all, we’re stuck in this room with one bed all night, and it’s like snowmageddon out there. What if we have to have sex to continue the human species? I need to know how to approach it.”

I rolled my eyes. “We will not be having any sex tonight.”

“So you’d let the human species die out rather than do it with me?”

“Yes.”

But every single nerve ending in my body was suddenly alive and humming.