There wasn’t a lot of talking after that. Mostly, she snuggled against him and sighed from time to time. No words were required.
“Oh, my god!” Paige exclaimed under her breath as the elevator took them to their mountain view suite. “Did you notice how easy our arrival and check-in was? Edward, this place is fantastic, and I don’t even like modern art.”
If it wouldn’t make her look like a fool, she would have skipped down the hallway when the elevator doors opened. The unusual approach to an urban hotel without coming off like a dilapidated relic or an über exclusive and therefore mostly inaccessible luxe establishment floated her boat in a big way. It was not enough anymore to give the people what they wanted when you could give them something they didn’t know they needed. That was how you were successful. By understanding your product or brand and keeping it fresh.
The unique approach of the Art hotel reminded her of the idea she’d been stitching together for the last year or so. Something equally as unique but on a much, much smaller scale.
In their room, she inspected every inch, each light switch, and every window. The linens, towels, bath products. Even the brand of toilet paper while Edward watched silently amused.
“Where do you want to honeymoon?” he asked.
What? Honeymoon? Oh boy, that was right. Some sort of honeymoon would be in order after they married, and it was just like him to make it all about her. She thought for a moment, considered everything and anything that would make her betrothed happy, and came up with an answer.
Paige liked their serious conversations to unfold when she could touch him, so she went and threw her arms around his neck and pushed both hands into his hair.
“Have you ever seen those private bungalows that sit on the water in Bora Bora?” She felt the interest course through his body. Bingo, sweetie.
She knew a little bit about Bora Bora. Patsy had gone last year and raved nonstop. Taking from what she remembered, a laundry list of manly-man activities rambled from her mouth.
“The idea of honeymooning in tropical French Polynesia is romantic enough but the stuff we could do? Hashtag … are you kidding? There’s snorkeling, scuba, and jet skis. Kite surfing, paddleboards, and catamarans. We could get GoPro cameras and make a home movie! You could direct. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”
While all those things were cool, she’d hit the daily double with the GoPro idea. Tell Edward he could direct, and it didn’t matter that it was a home movie; he’d be in full storyboard mode before the hour was out.
“Does this ocean getaway include bikinis?”
She laughed and hugged him. “Sure, but don’t you think you’re a little, uh, manly … for a tiny bathing suit?”
“Ha-ha,” he teased. “You know damn well I meant you, and it was a dumb question, so don’t bother with another snappy comeback. If Bora Bora it is, babe, then you have to let me choose your swimwear. You’re to pack nothing. I’ll handle it. It’ll be a bridal gift from your husband on our honeymoon.”
“You’re entirely too nice, you know. How come you’re so good to me?”
“Easy, sweetheart. I have to be because where else am I gonna find a clever smartass with a deliciously foul mouth who won’t take my shit, thinks Gideon Shaw is a yawn, and drops to her knees every time I unbuckle my belt?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, dashing from his arms in search of her luggage. “Speaking of belts, check this out.”
Pawing through the smallest of her bags—she had packed for a long road trip, after all—she pulled out a contraption that vaguely resembled a belt and waved it in his face.
“What the fuck is that?”
She understood his laughter. The piece of leather wasn’t long enough to fit a man’s waist and two leather loops and what looked like ties of some kind hung from it.
“This, my darling, is a wrist restraint.” She demonstrated how it worked. “Hands go through the loops, and the ties adjust the size. Then the loops move on the leather strap, so they’re close together or arm’s length apart.”
“What’s the hole for?”
He was certainly paying close attention. “Oh, that. Well, I think what you do with that is use it as a way to add another piece, like a strap or some rope. Think, headboard with slats.”
“Oh, you mean like tied to the bed? I’m intrigued, babe. Didn’t think you’d get into something like that. Not without a shit-ton of coaxing or the bribe of a year’s supply of ice cream.”
She laughed and laughed, as the leather strap went back into her bag. “Oh, sweetie. That’s not for me, silly. It’s you who’s gonna be leather bound."
His response surprised and excited. “I’ll let you tie my hands but not to the bed. That contraption could be fun as long as you wear a blindfold.”
The possibilities were intriguing.
“Think about it. Each of us gives up a sense. I can’t touch and you can’t see. The deprivation heightens the other senses.”
Oh, my word. This RV trip was going to be memorable and then some.
After a couple of days soaking up all that Denver had to offer, they picked up their rented RV, went through an exhausting training and safety check, and then took the keys and hit the road. They were now official members of The Good Sam Club.
He loved the freedom of driving when they wanted. Stopping for no reason and exploring every giant teacup or fossilized dinosaur along the way. His folks’ place wasn’t all that far from Denver from a mileage standpoint. They probably could have done it in a leisurely two days, but he insisted on taking the long, long way because camping with Paige was a complete hassle-free delight.
When they pulled into an RV park their first night out, his amazing fiancée whipped up a fantastic meal then rolled out the red carpet and invited the other RVers over for drinks. No one recognized him. The hair, beard, and the fact that the name Gideon never saw the light of day promised some anonymity. It was great just being two regular people out traveling the vast American highways and byways.
Tonight, they were in a campground near a small town that was having a cowboy festival. They were most definitely going. The minute she heard the word cowboy, her eyes lit with interest, she grinned like an idiot, waggled her eyebrows, gave him a wink, and nodded, murmuring, “Uh-huh. Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
His fiancée had a hard-on for cowboys. Oh man, being together on a remote location set for a movie about goddamn cowboys set in the eighteen hundreds was going to be interesting.
Getting the Ass-Gardian motorhome set up for the night was a breeze, and then they were off. Paige was not the chill and fucking relax type. Tell her there was something to explore, and you had better be ready with walking shoes.
The quaint mountain town was such a picture-perfect slice of Western Americana that his brain exploded taking in every detail. Especially dressed up as it was in a homegrown tradition that the Chamber of Commerce and tourism board must love. As they made their way along the main street, it quickly became apparent that Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, and Teddy Roosevelt were superstars in the town’s historical lore. Paige was in heaven.
Enjoying that she seemed to be having the time of her life, he was picking up a signal that intrigued. What his father had always said was right—figuring out a woman was a lifelong project because when God gave out surprises, the ladies got the bonus pack. Just when you thought you’d seen it all, she busted out something new. In Paige’s case, it was a near constant commentary about families.
“Did you see that? Oooh, a family would love that.”
“This’d be great for families.”
“I’d bring a family here. Wouldn’t you?”