Kissing Eden (3 page)

I exhaled. I couldn’t decide what I hated more: Brett or people saying “girl drama.” I had never punched anyone in my life, but I felt so much better.

“Bye, Brett. Enjoy your spring break.” I swung the door open and slammed it behind me with as much force as I could muster.

I didn’t know where I was going to find a place to stay for the week, but anywhere far from Brett was fine with me.

By the time I returned to the lobby, the line of guests had dispersed. The nice girl at the counter smiled when she spotted me.

“No luck?” she asked.

“Not exactly. Ex-boyfriend disaster.” I sighed. “I know this is kind of a strange question to ask you, but could you recommend another hotel? I’m homeless and luggage-less.” I laughed. The whole scenario was absurd. I couldn’t stop
the eruption of deep belly laughs.

“Oh my God, that’s terrible. Everywhere is going to be booked up. March is the craziest month of the year on the island.” She pulled out her phone. “But I might know somewhere that isn’t booked—it’s not great, but at least you might have somewhere to stay.”

My giggling fit ceased. “Thank you. I’d appreciate anything right now. I haven’t had dinner, or lunch, and I think I’m actually delirious.” That was going to be my excuse for punching Brett, even though he completely deserved it.

“Ok, my friend just
texted me and said the Palm Palace is open and has vacancies.” She reached for a sticky note.

“Palm Palace?”
It sounded like something out of a 1950s beach movie.

“It’s a motel, but there are open rooms. Here’s the address.” She handed me a
Post-it with an address and a phone number. “I’m Marin, by the way. If you need anything else, I put my number at the bottom too. Just text me. If any open rooms turn up here, I’ll let you know—just give me your cell.”

“Thank you.
This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me all day.” I jotted my digits down for her.

“I can’t let your first trip to South Padre be anything but amazing. It’s the kind of place that’s hard to forget.” Her brown eyes softened. “It didn’t start out so great for you, but I have a feeling the week will turn around for you.”

I winced at the tenderness in my knuckles as I tucked her number in my bag. “Thanks, Marin. I already feel like there’s no way I’ll forget this trip.”

I turned toward the sliding doors and the line of taxis that had pulled up only seconds ago to unload the next round of travelers
arriving from the airport. They scurried past me, talking about concerts, dance parties, and the hotel’s swim-up bar.

Before he could hop in his van,
I asked the first driver I spotted if he knew where the Palm Palace was. His raised eyebrow should have deterred me, but I was desperate and according to Marin the motel was the only place on the island I could stay. He motioned for me to sit in the second row, and peeled the van away from the curb. From the wide windows, I watched the Island Sun Resort, its fluffy white robes, endless sunset cocktails, and tropical flowers roll out of view.

CHAPTER TWO

“H
ere you go.” The driver parked next to a cabin-sized building. A red vacancy sign illuminated the sidewalk with quick bursts of flashing light. He waited for me to pay him the five dollars it cost to drive two minutes from the Island Sun Resort.

“This is the Palm Palace?” Nothing about the place looked palatial.
I already missed the bright hibiscus flowers and the nice girl from the front desk.

“Yep. You’re here.” The driver
strummed his fingers along the steering wheel. I’m sure he had designated driving tips he wanted to collect, and wasn’t afraid to demonstrate his impatience. My hesitation was holding him up.

I handed him a
crisp five-dollar bill and pushed open the car door. Before I could climb back in, he had made a full U-turn and was back on the highway. I watched the taillights race toward the cluster of resorts and abundance of spring breakers. I pivoted on my heels to face the Palm Palace. The sign blinked in front of me. This was it—my only option.

I smoothed out my shirt and took a deep breath. I reached for the handle on the office door, but it was stuck. I jiggled it a few times, trying to move it left or right until it broke off in my hand. Great, I already had damage charges and didn’t even have a room yet. I knocked on the door.

The door whipped open. A towering figure stood in front of me. The light behind his head made it difficult to make out the features of his face, but I could see the outline of a chiseled jaw and broad shoulders.

“I—uh—I broke your doorknob.” I offered the part to the shadowed guy.

“Dammit,” he mumbled.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to break it.” I followed him into the dim-lit office. In the
side, a window-unit hummed and blasted cool air into the small space. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know
. I’ve been meaning to fix that door.” He placed the doorknob next to the phone. “What do you need?” He exhaled through his teeth and glared at the broken piece of metal.

The s
mell of fresh paint permeated the office. The corner of a paint can was exposed on the floor behind the desk. I watched as he nudged it out of view with his foot.

“Maybe if you took better care of this place it wouldn’t break when your customers walked through the door.”

“Tell me about it.
Doorknobs are just the beginning. Wait, did you say customer? You have a reservation? I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight, and not for another week.” He rubbed his palm along the side of his face that I guessed hadn’t seen a razor in a week. His stubble was dark, like the rest of his brown hair. For the first time since I had walked in the office, he looked up.

I was tired and irritated from the trip, but it’s not everyday you see eyes like that.
Eyes that held depth and soul. Eyes that made me forget why I was so annoyed. Eyes that kept me locked in place. I stared a little too long, trying to think where I had seen that blue before.

“I asked you a question. Do you have a reservation?” His snappy probing shook the trance I had entered.

Not only was the Palm Palace falling apart, but it was also lacking in the customer service department. I really didn’t need this after the day I had, pretty blue eyes or not.

“No, but I need one for the week.
Apparently, this is the only place that has open rooms. Now I know why.” I frowned at the doorknob.

Through the window, I could see that
the pool was only half-full. A garden hose was draped over the ladder with a slow trickle of water running into the deep end.

The guy looked me over. I was sure he saw the soda stain on my jeans. “Well, if it’s not up to your standards, don’t let me keep you.” He nodded toward the door that no longer had a doorknob.

“No, it’s—” I searched for a word that wouldn’t insult him further. “—quaint.”

“Did you say you needed a room for the
entire week?” He looked at the space next to my feet. “Where’s your luggage?”

“The airline lost it. You wouldn’t have those fluffy robes here
, would you?”

“
Darlin’, look around you. Does this look like the kind of place with fluffy robes?”

This place didn’t look like it would have running water, but a girl could dream. All I wanted was for him to swipe my credit card and point me to my room and maybe some food. My stomach growled. The pretzels I had eaten on the morning flight from Raleigh hardly counted as a meal.

“Ok, I get it. You’re not Mr. Customer Service. Can I just check in? I’ve had a really terrible day, and I could use a hot shower and something to eat.”

I couldn’t believe the Palm Palace management had placed the handyman in charge of the front desk for the night. The white T-shirt that clung to his torso was speckled with paint
, and he had hooked a hammer along the rim of his back pocket.

He pulled out a notebook and flipped open the faded blue cover. He traced the lines with his finger. “Yep, there’s a room for you.”

“You keep your reservations in a notebook?” I hadn’t really noticed until now that there wasn’t a computer in the office.

He looked at me. “Do you want a room or not?”

“Sorry.” I bit my lip to keep from sparring with him further. I couldn’t risk him tossing me out.

“It’s fifty dollars
per night. Do you have a credit card?”

I handed him the plastic card my mother had given me at Christmas for spring break. She and my father had loaded it specifically for this trip. I had managed to avoid using it for the past few months, even when I saw a cute fringed bikini that called my name.

“What happened to your hand?” He glanced at my knuckles.

With the hotel hopping, I had forgotten that it had turned red and was starting to swell. “I ran into something. It’s fine.”

“Something or someone?” I thought I saw the corner of his lips form a smile.

He withdrew a piece of carbon paper and a metal rectangular device. I watched as he affixed the paper, placed my card on top,
and then swiped a lever across my card.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

My father’s warnings about credit card fraud echoed in my memory. What if this was some kind of scheme to steal the last bit of money I had?

He let out a sigh. “It’s a credit card machine.”

“Are you serious?” I think I had seen something like it in an eighties movie.

“Yes. I’m serious. Here you go.” He handed the card back to me and pointed to the bottom of the slip. “Sign here.”

I scribbled my name along the line, being careful not to press too hard with my knuckles. They were tender. He handed me a brass key attached to a palm tree key chain.

“You’re in room twenty-three
, which is all the way down this side.” He pointed out the window. “You’re the last room on the right. Ocean side.”

Ocean
side? At least there was something redeeming about the Palm Palace. The palm tree was heavy in my hand. “Thanks. Is there somewhere around here I could get dinner and maybe some clothes?”

I was worried the airline still hadn’t called me and I would have to face the morning with my alcohol
-stained jeans.

“There’s a
local hang out a few blocks down and across the road on the sound side called Pete’s. It’s not a party scene; you’ll have to head back to the resorts if you want a DJ and dancing. About a block down is a surf shop and general store. I’m sure they’ll have something you can wear.” I caught him eyeing the dip in my shirt with his smoldering eyes. Eyes like that were hard to ignore.

“I’m not here for the party scene. Dinner sounds good.” I turned to pull the inside frame of the door. I wasn’t sure why I had told him that. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and, Rocky, there’s an ice machine on the way to your room. You might want to put some on that hand before it gets much worse.” This time I was certain he was smiling.

***

The Palm Palace was divided into two rows of rooms angled toward the beach in a V, like a seagull with its wings fully spread. All of the odd-numbered rooms were on the right and the even-numbered on the left. Mine was at the farthest end, closest to the beach. It looked as if guests could still catch a glimpse of the ocean from their balcony even from the side closest to the highway.

I inserted the key into the rusty lock and turned the door handle. My senses were hit with a waft of musty air, the kind you smell when you forget you left your wet bathing suit in the bottom of the clothes hamper. The air was tinged with salt.

The walls were coated in a thick paint, which was doing a miserable job of covering up the panels wrapping the room. Strips of peeling paint dangled from the corners.

“Home sweet spring break,” I muttered.

I flipped the switch on the air conditioner, pulled the drapes to a closed position, and sat on the bed. It was pointless to try to clean up before I even had a shower or clean clothes to put on afterward. I had been wearing the alcohol-stained jeans so long I couldn’t smell the bourbon anymore.

The handyman mentioned
a place to eat within walking distance. That seemed like the best option for dinner, but first I wanted to buy a few things to make it through the next day until my luggage arrived. I stopped myself from getting nostalgic about my favorite Carolina T-shirt, or the cute pink skirt and the mini-pack of new makeup I just bought. They were all in my suitcase, and I could do nothing about it.

Clutching the brass palm tree in my hand
, I pulled the door closed behind me and walked toward the surf shop. As I passed by the Palm Palace office, I saw the handyman sitting behind the desk shuffling through a stack of papers. I wondered if he always wore a scowl on his face. His jaw was set in a line of determination. I stood in front of the window a second too long; he looked up from his work and saw me staring at him. I scurried out of view, wishing I didn’t have to be so curious all the damn time.

The surf shop was only two blocks from the motel, on the
beach road. After being squeezed into small seats all day, it felt good to walk.

“Hey, honey. Welcome to Sandy’s.” The red-haired woman called from a nearby hat stand. She was straightening a line of visors that had been displaced. Yes, it was a surf shop, but not like any I had seen. “Can I help you find something? You look lost,
darlin’.”

I took in the Stetson hats, rows of surfboards, and rack of suntan lotion.

“Yes, I need something to wear. The airline lost my luggage and I’m here all week. I’m sure it will show up, but I need a change of clothes.” I spotted a mannequin wearing a sundress that was adorable.

“Oh, you poor thing.” The woman ditched the set of pink hats and rushed over to me. “Those airlines are so bad these days. Last year my sister, Janet, had two bags lost and she never got them back
. She had everything in there. It was a mess.”

Hearing Janet’s story didn’t comfort me. I was still hoping my phone would ring any second with a call from the airport saying they were on their way with my clothes.
I hadn’t itemized what was in the suitcase, but there were more sentimental things than just my school T-shirt.

“Well, let’s get you some things to wear. You here for spring break?”
She flashed a red lipstick smile.

“I am. All week.”
Standing in Sandy’s Surf Shop, it was starting to sink in that a week in paradise was a long time to spend alone.

“Oh, wonderful.
That’s so good to hear. I’m Renee.” She reached her hand to me.

“Eden.” I shook the freckled hand that had seen obvious years of sun.

“Where you from, honey?” She busied herself with a circular stand of board shorts.

“North Carolina. I’m a senior at Carolina.”
Where I was from, everyone knew the university, but outside of the state I wasn’t always sure if people who weren’t die-hard sports fans had any idea what it was.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard of it. We get students from all over the country
in South Padre. Just last week there were some Kansas students and Michigan students. All they do when they see each other is brag about their sports teams.”

I smiled.
That sounded awfully familiar. Renee seemed to be current on her university trivia.

“Why don’t you just go right in that dressing room and I’ll bring you a few things to try on?” Renee shuttled me over to a cubicle covered by a curtain that had been strung across the doorway.

Normally, I would have browsed the racks myself, but Renee had a mothering hen approach that I followed like a new chick. I waited in the cubby for her to select a spring break wardrobe for me.

“I brought a few different sundresses. That’s what all the girls are wearing this year. I guessed on your size.” She shoved the hangers and dresses in through the slit in the curtain. “I’ll be right back with a few bathing suits for you to try.”

I looked at the collection of dresses she handed me. They were all short and strappy. I dipped my leg into a green one and pulled the straps over my shoulders.