Page 13 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

“You sure you need it now? Can’t you just call the hotel and ask them to hold onto it until you’re back next week?” Andi asked as she floored the accelerator of her car—a canary yellow Chevrolet Corvette Stingray.

Of course, Andi would buy the most obnoxiously flashy option available.

“Yes, I need it now. It’s important. I don’t want to risk it getting lost.” My stomach twisted with disbelief. I never forget things. Yet here I was, an idiot who’d left behind the one item I never traveled without.

“You still haven’t told me what it is.” Andi’s curious tone bordered on annoyance as she turned briefly to face me.

“ It is personal,” I replied curtly, unwilling to elaborate.

The compass wasn’t just an object—it was a lifeline, a relic of a memory I hadn’t shared with anyone—not even Andi.

A gift from my grandmother when I was fifteen, given to me at a particularly difficult time in my life. It had quietly become my anchor over the years. Whenever I doubted my direction—literally or figuratively—it helped me find my way.

“I really admire your ability to open up and share with me,” Andi muttered, but she didn’t push further. “At least we’ve got time. The Misty Springs Airport probably has five people in it, and let’s face it, I drive much faster than Hank. You’re lucky to have me, you know.”

I leaned back against the seat, the engine vibrating beneath me. “Remind me to thank you later.”

“You could thank me by learning how to drive. ”

“I can drive,” I countered, though it had been a while since I did.

“Sure you can.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

The car’s sleek design felt comically out of place as we wound through the quiet streets of downtown Misty Springs.

The shops, their colorful facades picturesque, lined the cobblestone streets.

Sunlight reflected off the river that ran parallel to the main road, where locals jogged, biked, and walked their dogs along a scenic path.

We turned onto the incline leading to the inn, its stately architecture perched on the hillside overlooking the river. In the early afternoon light, it looked almost regal, framed by lush evergreens and brilliantly colored mature trees.

Andi threw the car in park in front of the lobby. “I’m heading in to scope out the theme for tonight.”

“I noticed that when I arrived. What the hell is that about?”

“On the weekends, they serve themed food and drinks paired with movies or shows in the dining room. You should try staying here for a full weekend sometime. It’s fun, and the food is to die for.”

I recalled the sandy volleyball scene and the delightful aroma that rivaled that of my favorite Italian restaurant back home. I shook my head. “ Food to die for. At a hotel in the middle of nowhere? Doubtful.”

She shrugged and pushed the door open with a theatrical groan.

As I stepped out of the car, my eyes flicked to the second floor, where my room was, and my heart dropped.

The door was ajar.

Damn it.

Maybe housekeeping was in there. I needed to move fast, hoping they wouldn’t take it—or worse—mistake it for trash. I climbed the stairs two at a time, cautiously nudging the door open.

“Hello?” My question was met with silence.

The room looked empty. It appeared housekeeping had started cleaning but hadn’t finished. My gaze immediately landed on the compass, still sitting on the end table where I’d left it. Relief flooded through me as I crossed the room, reaching for the tarnished metal.

Its weight was familiar and grounding. The slight crack in the glass served as a testament to its journey with me .

My thumb brushed over the inscription etched on the back: Home is where the heart leads you.

I slipped it into my pocket, exhaling deeply. It was time to leave this damn charming little crap town behind—for a few days at least.

As I turned to leave, my attention was caught by an unsuspecting paper sack sitting on the desk. I was sure it wasn’t mine. Lifting it, I gingerly peeked inside to find little plastic cups of gummy bugs in yellow Jell-O.

What the hell?

I chuckled at how strange this hotel was, assuming it had something to do with the “theme” Andi mentioned earlier, when I heard a soft thump sound from the bathroom.

I set down the bag full of strange cups of goo and investigated the noise.

“Anyone in here?” I asked.

Silence answered.

I inched closer and caught a glimpse of something in the bathroom mirror—a reflection.

The realization hit me like a truck.

1C. Sophia .

In my room.

I watched her in silence for a moment as I tried to process seeing her here, in the flesh, as if my constant thoughts of her last night manifested her here—just a few hours later than I would have liked.

I moved closer, angling myself to see her reflection more clearly in the mirror.

She was focused on scrubbing the shower walls, her movements methodical but energetic.

A messy pile of hair swayed slightly atop her head, bobbing in rhythm to her too-loud music.

But what really caught my attention was the miles of exposed skin peeking out from a crisscross pattern of thin fabric across her back.

And then my gaze slipped lower.

Her tiny shorts hugged her curves in molded perfection.

Mesmerized, I watched her body sway back and forth as she wiped the tile. My pulse thundered in my ears as my mind raced.

I should just grab my compass and go. Andi was probably already in her car, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. That’s what my rational mind was screaming at me.

But my feet? My feet had other plans .

Each step felt like an act of defiance against every ounce of common sense I prided myself on having.

And yet, here I was, moving closer—drawn by something intangible, something magnetic. Like the compass in my pocket pulling the needle North, forcing me forward.

I leaned into the doorway. If she turned her head just a fraction, she would see me standing there.

But she didn’t, her attention drawn to her task.

I cleared my throat loudly, and the sound made her jump, letting out an adorable little squeak.

“Oh my gosh, you scared the hell out of me!” she yelled, ripping her earbuds out, the faint crackle of music still audible. Her eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling as she glared at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” I countered, slowly scanning her from head to toe.

She caught me doing it, her brow arching.

“This is my room,” I clarified.

“Not as of eleven a.m., it isn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this ready for the next guest.” She shoved past me, brushing my arm as she did.

The contact was brief, but it set my nerves alight, leaving me wanting more.

“You work here?” I asked as I crossed my arms and leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

“No, I do this for fun,” she shot back over her shoulder, her sarcasm sharp enough to cut.

“Is that your uniform?” I cocked my head to the side.

She turned to face me without missing a beat. “Standard issue.”

With an exaggerated flourish, she gestured down her body.

My eyes followed, slow, deliberate, taking her in—the curve of her hips, the way her shorts clung to her thighs. When my gaze finally returned to her face, her cheeks were flushed, a rosy hue that crept to the tips of her ears.

She swallowed hard, her lips parted slightly as if to say something, but no words came.

In her silence, the air in the room shifted, charged with an electric energy that crackled between us .

And judging by the way her breath hitched, I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

“What are you doing here, 1B ?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

“Forgot something, can’t remember what now.” I shoved off the doorframe and stepped towards her.

“No. I mean, what are you doing here, here? In Misty Springs?” She took a step back.

“Business, not pleasure, remember?” Another step closer.

“What kind of business ?” She took another step back, meeting the wall of the small room.

Her eyes never left mine—two deep blue pools, calling me closer, drawing me in, and washing away any sense of logic or reason why this could be a bad idea.

I stepped closer, nearly closing the gap between us but keeping a slight distance, despite my body's plea to press up against her.

Her breath caught as my hand slid behind her, slow and deliberate.

My fingers skimmed the hem of her tight tank top at the small of her back. I braced my other hand against the wall. Our lips hovering inches from each other, breath mingling in the tiny hotel room.

Blood coursed through me, hot and steady as my fingers explored lower, trailing along the top of her shorts and gently sweeping across the exposed skin of her back.

“What are you... what are you doing?” she whispered, her words dancing across my lips.

My tongue darted out to taste them—and for a second, I swore I did. Sweet, warm, and entirely addictive.

She inhaled sharply as my arm jerked, snapping off a tag I’d zeroed in on earlier while very intently staring at her ass.

I smirked as I ran the tag along the waist of her tiny shorts, bringing it between our bodies.

“New shorts?” I asked, my voice dry.

She glanced down at the tiny white paper in my hand, then lifted her gaze—pausing at my lips before meeting my eyes again.

Every instinct screamed at me to kiss her, to lay her down on the bed where I’d spent the night tossing and turning with thoughts of her.

“Thanks for covering, Soph,” came a voice I didn’t recognize as the door swung open—spilling bright sunlight into the room and jolting us both.

Sophia shoved me back, her wide eyes darting to the intruder.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize, um…” the woman stammered, clearly mortified by what she’d walked in on.

Her gaze darted between us as she shuffled awkwardly. “Actually, wouldn’t you know it? I forgot my favorite dust cloth. Silly me, I’ll, uh, go grab it now!” She turned and disappeared out the door as quickly as she’d arrived.

“Oh no,” Sophia groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Friend of yours?” I nodded toward the door where the woman had bolted.

Sophia let out a frustrated sigh. “Coworker—and a very gossipy one at that.”

I raised a brow, letting a smirk curve my lips, though the twinge of something bitter gnawed at me deep inside.

“I see. Don’t want the boyfriend to find out about your little secret? Eye-fucking strangers at airports. Looking for tall, dark, and mysterious men on Tinder. Hooking up with strangers in hotel rooms.”

Her head snapped up, her expression conflicted—part indignation, part something else I couldn’t quite read.

“I don’t—" she started, stumbling over her words. “I’m not—” She took a deep breath, her shoulders dropping as if trying to ground herself. “I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you’re mistaken.”

“Mmhmm,” I replied, my tone deliberately nonchalant, though I could feel anger welling inside me.

Despite my having no right to be angry. What did her boyfriend or dating profile matter to me?

I glanced at my watch. “I have a flight to catch out of this charming little town anyway.”

The haze Sophia had wrapped around me moments ago lifted, and clarity hit me like a cold splash of water. The intoxicating pull of her—the siren’s lure that had almost dragged me under—was gone, leaving behind the stark reminder of my reality.

I had a plane to catch and a life waiting for me that didn’t involve getting tangled up in… whatever this was .

Andi was sorely mistaken if she thought this woman would ever work for my company.

“You really are an asshole,” Sophia said defiantly as she stormed out of the room.

I shrugged—she wasn’t wrong.

For good measure, I stole the paper bag of Jell-O shots to make my hellish commercial flight home a little more bearable.