Her Billionaire Toy Boy

Chapter 8

Sixty minutes. Mira, ever the organized goal-setter, decided to set a timer on her phone for about fifty minutes so she could unpack everything with a still-set time for when she was supposed to head downstairs.

First she threw herself down upon the bed. It bounced in a very satisfying way. She buried her head in the pillows and felt the cleanliness of the sheets. She made a mental note to thank Mrs. Mueller, whom she was sure was responsible for everything about the freshness of this room. She then rolled over.

It was early evening now, and the last golden rays of the setting sun were streaming into the room. Mira noted with satisfaction that this meant that the sunrise—while beautiful—would not necessarily bother her here, unless she specifically decided to get up early in order to see it. In the next second, Mira decided that of the two mornings that she’d be waking up here, she’d watch the sunrise for one of them. Going over the brief series of events in her head that Sam had told her about earlier, Mira decided that the next morning, Saturday morning, would be the best for that, as she’d probably be even more tired the next morning, Sunday morning, after a day of canoeing and kayaking and whatever else Sam had planned.

Accordingly, Mira made a mental note to ask Mrs. Mueller how to make herself coffee. She loved the idea of waking up in the stillness and getting the coffee going. Somehow, something which seemed like a chore on a non-vacation day would seem like a luxury if she could pad down from her sumptuous bedroom clad in a robe and fix herself a strong cup of coffee, tiptoeing around so as not to wake the others…

Mira rolled over, put her feet on the ground, and started to put her things in the dresser drawers. She’d read a thinkpiece recently which stated that one of the best ways to feel like a vacation was actually a vacation was to completely unpack one’s suitcase, even if the length of the stay was quite short. It was a grounding activity, and it only took a minute or two. That done, Mira slipped off her socks and went to investigate the bathroom. There she gave a small sigh of pleasure. The entire room, while small, was completely cozy and well-outfitted for one woman to spend two nights using. Sam or Mrs. Mueller, or both, had thoughtfully stocked the room with various nice lotions and other nice things. There was a candle already burning on top of the toilet. It made the room smell like a crackling bonfire, accentuating the cabin like feel of the place. Mira shivered with delight—and then noticed that there was in fact a full bathtub in the room. She could see herself unwinding later that evening in a hot bath with a glass of wine. She’d see what Sam had on deck for the evening, but she thought immediately that that sounded completely lovely.

She pulled out one of her books and decided to immerse herself in it for a while to regain a sense of herself and a sense of calm. She lay on the bed and happily read, propped up on her elbows, for the next half-hour. When her phone went off, she calmly put a bookmark in her book and threw it on her bedside table for later perusal.

Mira eyed her door. She’d have to go down and be social now. It was dawning on her anew that she didn’t really know any of these people. Not even Sam—not really—and, even though she was there as his date, he was surrounded by his friends. They’d be talking for most of the time. Mira looked back at her book. Perhaps she should bring it down with her? Or would that be construed as rude?

She sighed and resigned herself to the many awkward minutes of silence and potentially boring stretches of time she’d have to go through, but then immediately reframed her point of view. She was here to relax. Relax she would. She picked her book up from her side-table and tucked it under her am. After one last duck into the bathroom to make sure that her make-up still looked okay, she slipped her feet into house-slippers and walked downstairs.

Damien and Lisa were cuddled on one of the couches. Sam was in the kitchen. Mira scoped out the living room and selected a plush armchair which had a commanding view of the room as well as a direct beeline to both the kitchen and what Mira suspected was a bathroom door. She threw her book on the chair to claim it and then went to the kitchen to join Sam.

“What are you up to?” she asked, attempting to sound coy and regretting that decision. She coughed and repeated herself in a more normal tone of voice, hoping that he’d chalk the difference up to phlegm. She then realized that that wasn’t a particularly great course of action, either. She shook her head and smiled at Sam, who likely had not paid attention to any of these details.

“Just checking to make sure the fridge is actually stocked,” Sam commented. “Trying to figure out what we’re making for dinner tonight.”

“Cool, cool. Any ideas?”

“Half of one. It’s going to involve fish, whatever it is. We always eat a ton of fish when we’re up here.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yep. We’ll actually catch tomorrow’s dinner during the day if everything goes well.”

Mira digested this. “We’re going fishing as well?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Ever been?”

Mira thought. “Well, I sort of did, once, with my girl scout troop, when I was eight.”

Sam snorted. “Did you catch anything?”

“Not even sort of,” Mira said, laughing. “I think my hook might have caught onto the boat, actually.”

“Right,” said Sam. “I can help you out this time.”

“Many thanks,” said Mira. “So, what kind of fish?”

“Salmon, tonight,” said Sam. “I’m thinking something with lemon and garlic.”