When Timothy came out of the bathroom, he was wearing not the jeans and tee I’d expected, but a fluffy white robe. I guess that made sense because he’d told Terry and Bob that we were staying in and ordering room service. That was great. We wouldn’t have to battle the reception room where a hotel full of newsmen might or might not be berating Mr. Peters for his wild story of vampirism. Although I found the man’s fears and beliefs utterly ridiculous, a bunch of like-minded idiots would not be fun to contend with. I sighed, especially when I turned to give Timothy a thorough examination.
His hair was wet. He hadn’t done a good job of drying it. That made me want to rub it with a soft, fluffy towel, like a wet dog that I was afraid might suddenly give a good shake of water spray. At least, that was my impulse . . . until I saw the drops of water scattered across his very manly chest, and because the robe was only loosely belted, when I peeked further down via the robe’s opening . . . Oh, my. Let’s just say, that wasn’t all I saw.
Timothy and I never got around to ordering food. Why bother when the snacks were so delicious, and other things occupied most of our focus?
The mattress was lovely for sleeping, too. I slumbered like Sleeping Beauty, but when I woke up in the morning, I had snarls in my hair instead of curls. Timothy had already risen and was outside on the balcony, fully dressed in his sharp looking black jeans and jean jacket. I took advantage of his absence and fled to the bathroom where I set to work dampening, working the hair down, and smoothing it out.
There were some lovely products on the shelf of the bathroom, not the ones that Simone had bought for me to use, but others that seemed quite adequate. When I re-entered the main room, I found not only Timothy, but a full breakfast waiting on the table with China plates, white cloth napkins, and little pots of jams and honey.
We morning greeted each other with chaste kisses, but any embarrassment I might have felt for what we’d done in the evening and night seemed to have vanished. It was like we were an old married couple, a thought that was scarier than climbing a roof-tall ladder. I pushed the notion away, determined not to wiggle it about with all its ramifications and self-debates.