He beamed at her, and she smiled back.
“I love soulmate AUs.” Turning her wrist over in his grasp, he traced something along her forearm with a gentle, shiver-inducing finger. “My favorites are soul mark ones, where your soulmate’s first words to you appear somewhere on your body, like a tattoo, in their handwriting.”
One of his bookmarked fics had that premise, and despite all her natural skepticism, she too had found the sheer romanticism of the idea seductive. Soulmates. Inseverable bonds. True pairings, designated such by powers beyond human command.
Too bad those didn’t exist in real life.
“I read your bookmarked soulmate fic recently. I liked it.” Gently tugging her hand free from his, she turned away and used the hotel-provided notepad to write a quick thank-you to the poor housekeeper who’d have to clean the chilly room, then placed the note beside the generous tip Alex had already left on the nightstand. “All right, I’m ready to go now.”
He grabbed both their bags. “Finally. Shit, you’re like if a tortoise took downers.”
“One of us scattered his belongings everywhere, and I needed time to locate everything,” she said as she opened the door. “I won’t say who, but his name starts with an A, ends with an X, and rhymes with Schmalex.”
He snorted and followed her out.
As the door began to shut behind them, though, he held up a hand. “Let me take one last look before we go. I might see something you didn’t.”
That was … surprisingly cautious from a man like him, but it couldn’t hurt to check a final time. So she used her body to prop open the door and appreciatively watched the play of muscles along his shoulders and down his back as he glanced inside the bathroom, ran a hand over the sheets, and fiddled with the dresser and nightstand.
“Nothing,” he finally said, rejoining her. “The Abominable Snowman’s coastal hideaway is pristine once more.” When the door clicked shut, he slung his free arm around her shoulders, and they headed for reception. “You know, I’ll bet there are absolutely filthy fics about the Abominable Snowman somewhere on AO3.”
She raised her brows. “Do you plan to write one?”
“After all the subarctic inspiration I got last night?” His grin positively seethed with wicked intent, and he tugged her closer. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”
Even though she shook her head at him, she had to laugh. Because yes, of course Alex was going to write Abominable Snowman smut. And if her suspicions proved correct—
“Do you think the Abominable Snowman has ever been pegged?” he asked, his brow furrowed in thought.
Yup. There it was.
She only hoped the fandom was ready, because if not: Goodness help them.
SINCE THEY’D GOTTEN a late start and stopped earlier than anticipated yesterday, they had a long haul ahead of them for their second day of travel. Five hours of driving in total, interrupted by various stops for tourism and food.
By the time they reached their hotel in Olema that evening—Lauren had made reservations from the road, unable to resist lodgings built directly atop the San Andreas Fault—she and Alex were both tired and ready to get out of the car. Still cheerful, though, and still chatting easily.
“I take back everything I said about Hearst Castle.” After removing both their bags from his trunk, Alex locked the car and followed her to the hotel’s entrance. “Due to its critical lack of turrets, I’m afraid it’s a zero out of ten. Would not recommend.”
“This morning, you told me the grounds and castle were amazing.” She raised her brows. “Was that a lie?”
“Why do you listen so closely to everything I say, and then remember it?” He frowned down at her, reaching over to rumple her hair with his free hand. “It’s all very unfair.”
She batted his hand away. “You’re just mad because I said Hearst Castle was more impressive than your castle.”
“Turrets, Wren,” he emphasized. “They had towers, not turrets, which means I win our castle-off. Clearly.”
“If that’s the only criterion, I too would win a castle-off.”
“Not against me,” he said smugly as they entered the lovely reception area.
The lighting was pleasantly dim, the scattered couches and chairs overstuffed and upholstered in jewel tones, and the check-in desk marble. The night’s stay would be pricey, but he’d insisted they go somewhere as classy as he was.
When she’d suggested a bed of hay in a stable, then, he’d laughed delightedly and kissed her at a stoplight until she’d collapsed against the passenger door, dizzy and tingling.