Page 93 of Use Me

We slid into the car. “We’re going to the Grand Geneva Spa and Resort here in Wisconsin for lunch before you fly us home.”

“How is this real life right now?” Ashtyn laughed. “I feel like a celebrity or something.”

“Well, you are a celebrity.”

“Only in Chicago.”

“True, but, technically anyone can book this experience.”

“I had no idea it was possible. Thank you.” She leaned over and pressed her soft lips to mine. “This beats sitting at home and catching up on shows on the DVR.”

I grinned. “Sure does.”

After the car dropped us off at the entrance, we made our way to the Grand Café for lunch.

“Thank you for doing this.” Ashtyn smiled, looking out the window at the lake.

“You’re welcome, but it’s fun to take a little getaway, right?”

“It’s amazing.”

“Speaking of amazing, I found a few houses we should go look at.”

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Here, I’ll show you a few.” I took my phone out my pocket and pulled up the realtor’s website where I found some houses. I went to the first one and handed Ashtyn my phone. “What do you think of this one?”

She scrolled through the pictures. “There’s no fireplace.”

“But there’s a pool.”

“But we want a fireplace and a pool, right?”

“Okay.” I reached for my phone. “What about this one?”

Ashtyn took the phone back and looked at the pictures of the next one. “I think we should go look because if the closet’s small, it’s an automatic no.”

I chuckled. “Okay. How about I call my realtor and have him set up a few places for us to go see next weekend?”

She leaned across the table and pressed her soft lips to mine. “I’d like that.”

The next Friday, Ashtyn groaned and shut the door behind her after returning home from work.

“Bad day?” I asked, taking a pull of my beer.

“No, I had a great day.” She hung up her coat.

I set my beer on the coffee table. “So, what’s all the groaning about?” I was watching the San Jose Sharks and Minnesota Wild game that had just started. We were playing a doubleheader next against the Sharks to make up for the game that was canceled in October. Doubleheaders usually weren’t a thing in hockey because of how strenuous and exhausting hockey is, but it needed to be done.

“Corey—”

“Corey? What the fuck?”

Ashtyn sighed and plopped down on the couch. “He keeps texting me.”

I stilled, the game on the TV forgotten. “What do you mean he keeps texting you?”

“He keeps sending me texts about random shit.”