Love In Arizona (The Love In 50 States Series Book 3)

  ONE

  Paige rolled her eyes. “Jess. Seriously. Get your shit together.”

  We were sitting in a small coffee shop inside the Phoenix airport. My best friend was on her way to Los Angeles to speak at a conference and I was in Arizona to...be in Arizona. Who was I kidding? I was in Arizona to continue my quest of fifty guys in fifty states. And Paige had been the one to talk me into doing it.

  “I have my shit together,” I said. I'd briefed her on my time in Alabama and Alaska, trying to stay neutral as I relayed the very basics of what had transpired during the first two weeks of the trip. But I knew she could read between the lines of what I was telling her.

  “You're falling in love, aren't you?” Her voice was filled with accusation.

  An image of Evan immediately flashed in my head. “Absolutely not.”

  She wrapped both of her hands around the coffee cup in front of her. “You aren't doing this to fall in love, Jess. You're doing this to experience sex and travel and all the other stuff you missed out on by marrying Brian. Or, as you'd like to put it—you're doing this to 'find yourself.'”

  I grabbed the wooden stir stick and swirled it in my coffee. “I don't think I ever said that.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. This is supposed to be about discovery and empowerment, not finding Mr. Right. You are looking for Mr. Right Now in each place you visit.”

  I frowned. “I'm not sure I'm cut out for looking for Mr. Right Now.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, returning the frown. “You just need to get your head on straight and clarify what your goals are here.”

  “I know what my goals are.”

  She shook her head, her black bob swinging from side to side. Her hair was thick and shiny and, coupled with her bright red lipstick and fitted black business suit, made her look like style and fashion personified.

  “Tell me about this Evan guy.”

  I set the wooden stirrer down on my napkin and sipped at my coffee. It was still burning hot and it seared my tongue. “I already told you about him.”

  “You told me you had sex with him. And that it was hard to say goodbye.”

  I shifted in my chair and watched masses of passengers stream toward their gates. “I liked him,” I said defensively. “He was a nice guy.”

  “Great,” she said. “I'd hate for you to be fucking a bunch of assholes.”

  “That's not what I meant.” I hesitated, wondering how much I was comfortable telling her. “Look, I liked him. A lot. And I'm feeling a little guilty.”

  “About what?” she asked, incredulous.

  “About not telling him what I'm doing on this trip. Being vague about my time in Alabama.”

  Her eyebrows rose up to her hairline. “You think you owed him some sort of explanation?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “But it felt dishonest, to not tell him everything.”

  “What exactly were you going to tell him?” Paige asked.

  “I don't know.”

  It was the truth. The subject of my trip had come up – on more than one occasion. I'd told him my desire to travel and my need to find the “real” me but I hadn't mentioned the sex part. At first, it had been simply because we hadn't known each other. A casual acquaintance didn't deserve the details. But our time together in the Alaskan backcountry had morphed into something more, something neither of us had been looking, something we hadn't been prepared for. Evan was dealing with his own demons, struggling to break down the walls he'd built around himself after a loveless marriage and a necessary divorce. And I was stuck struggling with my desire to complete my travel mission – and the nagging feeling that the very thing I was looking for was wrapped up in a rugged, bearded bush pilot who'd swept me off my feet in the wilds of Kodiak Island.

  “You really think he would've understood?” she asked. “If you'd dished all the details?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Right. Because he wouldn't have. Because he's a guy.” She smiled.

  “He's not just any guy,” I said stubbornly.

  “Okay. Fine,” she said, allowing this. “Let's say this Evan is The One. Not just The One in Alaska, but The One. You said he gave you his number, right?”

  I nodded.

  “And he said he wanted you to find him when you're done.” She brought her cup of coffee to her lips, her eyes still visible. “If you still feel this way at the end of all of this, there's no reason you can't call him or go back.”

  “I know,” I said. I'd already contemplated this very same thing a hundred times. “But then I'd have to tell him everything.”

  “So?”

  I raised my eyebrow at her. “So how do you think that would go over?”

  Paige pushed her coffee away, sliding it across the lacquered surface of the table. “Okay. Seriously. Is this where we're headed?”

  “What?”

  “Are we heading toward 'I feel guilty about fucking other guys' now?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Because dear old Evan might somehow be offended?”

  I sighed. “Well, there's certainly a little bit of that—”

  “No,” she said, cutting me off. “Stop right there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because fuck that kind of thinking,” she said, leaning over the table. Her eyes were hard. Angry. “If you think that doing this is somehow going to make you less attractive to someone, we need to stop that line of thinking right now. Because it's utter bullshit.”

  I hated that she could get into my head so easily. It was exactly what I worried about. I didn't respond, focusing instead on a mom with two little girls sprinting down the concourse. I wondered where they were going. Were they going on vacation or were they headed home? Was she single or married? And I wondered, watching the youngest girl dragging a pink blanket behind her, her hand gripped tightly in her mother's, if that would ever be me.

  “Let me explain a few things,” Paige said, her tone measured. “You are a grown woman. You can decide what you want – and that shouldn't be influenced by me or Evan or any of the other people in your life. Because you've done that. With Brian.”

  “I'm aware.”

  “And you don't want to go back to that,” she said. “You're a big girl. And being a big girl means you get to decide who you have sex with and for what reason. Anyone else who wants to have an opinion about that can go fuck a window.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I don't know,” she said, shaking her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “But that's not the point. I can give you my opinion – and mine is that I hope you will literally fuck at least one guy in each state – but it shouldn't in any way compel you to do anything.” She pointed at me. “You are the decider. You're the big girl.”

  “Okay.” I picked up my coffee, then set it back down without taking a drink. “So if I decided to call this off right now, you'd be totally cool with that? I could just head back to Vermont and you wouldn't say a word?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “I'll say tons of words. But it doesn't mean you have to listen to them.”

  I bit back a smile.

  “But let's get clear on the sex part here,” she said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyone who bases their opinion of you on how many guys you've slept with is an asshole. They aren't worth your time. Male or female. It's irrelevant. It's like forming an opinion of you based on the kind of shampoo you use. So if Evan is going to think less of you because you chose to experience some things that were missing in your life, then fuck him.”

  “I didn't say he would,
” he said.

  “But you're worried that he might,” he pointed out.

  I hesitated, then nodded. “I guess.”

  “Jess, you don't want someone who thinks like that,” she said. She tapped her nails on the table top, the red tips beating out some indiscernible rhythm. “What you are doing is awesome. It's incredible. I'm jealous. But it doesn't make you a slut or a whore or any other ridiculously offensive nickname that our culture has placed on women who have sex. It's your right and you don't have to defend it and you shouldn't feel guilty about it.” She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ. If a guy was doing this, they'd turn it into a fucking reality show and he'd be the most desirable man on the planet.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. Then I stood, walked around the table and threw my arms around her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, clearly flustered.

  “Hugging you,” I said. “Thanking you. For being my friend and ally and fiercest defender. And for reminding me why I'm doing this.”

  She'd done exactly that. I still wasn't convinced I'd made the right decision, leaving Evan behind, but her words helped me remember what my goal was...and that I had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Paige patted my arm and leaned her head against mine. “That's what obnoxious girlfriends are for.”

  I laughed and squeezed her. “I know.”

  She reached out and moved my arms from around her neck. Her gaze was shrewd. “They are also for sharing sexual details with,” she said, lowering her voice a notch. “Enough with this sappy emotional shit. I want to hear about dick sizes and orgasms now.”

  TWO

  She didn't get much in the way of dick sizes and orgasms, but I tried to satisfy a little bit of her curiosity. She'd wanted more but time wasn't on her side; the connection flight to Los Angeles had started boarding and, after a quick hug, she'd grabbed her roller bag and hustled off to her gate.

  I downed the rest of my now lukewarm coffee and went in search of the rental car counters. Walking through the terminal, I was pretty sure the Phoenix airport was actually a time capsule for the 1970s. It was weird to be walking through the airport of a large city and seeing no modern touches. Forget charging stations; I'd just expected to see clean carpeting.

  I navigated the dingy terminal and finally found the rental counter. Twenty minutes later, I was situated behind the wheel of a small SUV, the air conditioning running at full blast. It was the third week in September and the Arizona desert had cooled off to a chilly ninety-nine degrees according to the temperature gauge on the dashboard. I pulled out my phone, entered in the address of the place I was staying in Scottsdale, and listened as the voice directed me away from the airport.

  It was only early afternoon but the highways were already clogged with traffic. I idled on the freeway, the cars in front of me inching along, my eyes glued to the expanse of desert that stretched before me. A mountain range ran along the northeast and I felt a pang in my stomach at seeing their dusty caps. Even though I'd only been there a week, I'd gotten used to the snow-covered mountains of Alaska. Billboards lined the highway, almost every single one of them advertising a resort or a hotel, all of them showcasing brilliant blue pools. I couldn't take my eyes off the crystal blue water on the billboards. The A/C was turned to its lowest setting, the cool air blasting through the vents, but heat still poured through the driver's side window. I set my arm on the door, my elbow touching the window and I jerked it away, surprised the glass was so hot.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was off the freeway and on the last leg of the drive to my hotel. Mimi's husband, Alan, had a college friend from the Phoenix area and he'd called him for hotel recommendations for me. He'd done better than that; the friend's sister was a sales rep for a sprawling resort in Scotsdale and she'd been able to offer a ridiculously cheap rate for the week. I'd snapped it up, no questions asked. The web site had looked incredible and I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled up to the Spanish-style hotel. It looked even better in person.

  The resort sprawled in front of me, a collection of all-white stucco buildings with arched doorways and terra cotta tile roofs. The front of the resort was meticulously landscaped with lush green grass, blooming hibiscus and towering palm trees. An enormous fountain gurgled in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the lobby and I thought how good it would feel to dunk my head under it.

  I pulled under the paved canopy adjacent to the lobby and a tan teenage boy sprinted toward me. He wore a buttoned down white shirt and khaki shorts and he had my door open before I could even offer a greeting.

  “Welcome to The Princess,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I'm checking in...”

  “I figured,” he said. He smiled and I could see a plastic retainer fitted over his teeth, those invisible braces that weren't really invisible. “Would you like to valet or self-park?”

  I thought about asking how much it was. But the heat was intense and the last thing I felt like doing was parking my car and then hiking back to the lobby or my hotel room, hauling my bags behind me.

  “Valet is fine.”

  “Great,” he said. He held out his hand and I dropped my keys in his open palm. “If you'd like to head inside and get checked in, we'll get your bags and meet you in the lobby.”

  I walked toward the door and they slid open automatically, the cool air a welcome relief to the hot desert sun. The lobby's interior was just as impressive as the exterior – huge beamed ceilings, intricate stonework and beautifully woven wall-hangings and rugs all greeted me as I made my way toward the check-in area

  A guy behind a dark paneled desk smiled at me. “Welcome to the Princess.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I set my purse on the desk. “I'm checking in.”

  “Terrific,” he said, the smile deepening. He was probably a couple years younger than me with blond hair, a deep tan and emerald green eyes. He had on a navy sport coat over a crisp white dress shirt.

  I dug into my purse and pulled out the reservation confirmation I'd printed from the business center in the Alaska hotel. He took it from me and began tapping the keyboard positioned in front of him. “Looks like you're here all week?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have you in one of our mini-suites near the main pool,” he said. “King-sized bed, sitting area and a view of the golf course. That work okay for you?”

  “Absolutely. Sounds great.”

  He stared at the screen, as if waiting for information to pop up. “What brings you here to Scottsdale?” he asked, making conversation while we waited.

  “Um, just some relaxation,” I answered.

  The printer behind him stirred. “And it looks like you're here by yourself?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  He grabbed the two sheets of paper the printer spit out and asked for a credit card for incidentals. He slid it through a card reader. “Well, that's no good.”

  I had a moment of panic. “Excuse me?”

  I was only on week three of my fifty-two week trip and I knew I had enough money to get me through the first half; once the house sold, I'd be set for the remainder. There was no way there was a problem with my credit card.

  He smiled. “I'm worried about you being lonely.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling ridiculous that I'd had a flash of worry. “I'll be okay.”

  He showed me where to initial and produced a small cardboard folder with my keycard. “Well, just in case you're not, I'm here all week. I'd be happy to show you around, get a drink. Whatever you want.”

  The suggestion was innocent enough but I'd become a little wiser over the last few weeks and I could hear the things left unsaid. I stole a quick glance at the guy behind the desk. He was definitely cute but he might be a little too aggressive for what I was looking for in Arizona.

  If I could figure out what I was looking for in Arizona.

  “I'll keep that in mind,” I said evasively. “Thanks.”

  “I'm Eric,” he said.
He slid the small folder toward me and I took it, but not before our fingers brushed. I tried to ignore the tiny spark. “I'll be here.”

  THREE

  The bellman, an older guy with gray hair and a handle bar mustache, rattled off all of the resort amenities as he walked me to my room.

  Four pools and an on-site water park. Tennis courts. A fishing pond. Hiking trail. World class golf course and practice area. Six restaurants. Swim up bars. Several boutiques.

  On the plane, I'd thought a lot about what I wanted to do in Arizona. Both Alabama and Alaska had left me with confused feelings and emotions, but for different reasons. I'd accomplished the goal – sex in two states – but it had left me sort of messed up. Not in a bad way, but I was still trying to iron out exactly what I wanted from the rest of the trip. It wasn't that the sex hadn't been good; it was the aftermath in both places that I was struggling with.

  I'd toyed with making Arizona a rest state. I could tell Paige and Mimi I slept with some guy and they'd never be the wiser that I hadn't. I thought about my conversation with Paige at the airport. Ultimately, as she had been quick to point out, it was my trip and I could do what I wanted. I wasn't ruling out Arizona guys completely, but I wasn't going to go out of my way to hit my quota.

  One thing was for sure, though, as the bellman finished telling me about the hotel amenities. I was going to have to work hard if I wanted to be bored.

  We finally arrived at my room and I handed him a five dollar bill, thanking him for the walk and the info. I slid the key card into the slot and opened the door, another blast of air-conditioning greeting me. The room was spacious and elegant, a blend of modern décor mixed with Spanish accents. It had the potential to be a decorating disaster but the sleek furniture and touches of traditional Southwestern accents worked. I tugged the cord on the curtain at the far side of the room, revealing a picturesque view of a horseshoe-shaped pool and an immaculate green fairway. I'd never swung a golf club in my life, had never even stepped foot on a golf course, but even I could tell that it was a topnotch course I was looking at.