By the time we reach baggage claim, I'm three sheets to the wind, along with the rest of the vacation-ready crowd flooding Cabo. I should've stopped drinking after my fourth vodka soda, but when Logan ordered a fifth an hour before landing, and I was still riding the high of staying calm the entire flight, I couldn't resist nodding when the flight attendant asked if I wanted another.

I found out that Logan is very funny. He had me giggling throughout the flight and I don't entirely think it was the booze. I also discovered we have similar tastes in music and have been to the same concerts in Denver. He peppered me with questions which kept me distracted and it was kind of nice to open up to someone new. He made it easy and seemed to be into my answers. It wasn't just to keep me from having an anxiety attack. 

Logan, somehow far more composed than I am, spots my bag on the carousel and grabs it with ease, balancing it alongside his own. He doesn't even pause before taking charge, hauling both suitcases as we weave through the chaos to passenger pickup.

When he starts heading toward the taxi line, I stop him with a wave of my hand. "I ordered a car," I tell him with a slur. "I didn't trust traveling alone in a taxi in Mexico." I glance at my texts as I look for my driver. The bridesmaid chat is fairly silent so the rest of the group must be on the plane now.

"Your last name is Harlow right?" Logan asks me as he looks around and I nod. He then points off to a Denali with a driver holding my last name on a sign in front of it. I follow behind him as he leads the way to the car and I am grateful the air conditioning is on full blast as we slide in.

Cabo is humid as hell and feels like it's at least ninety degrees out. I am already sweating and regret wearing high-waisted jean shorts that are sticking to my legs and waist.

"The Grand, sí?" The driver asks us after our bags are stowed and Logan answers him in Spanish. He then proceeds to have an entire conversation I don't understand, and not because I am drunk. I glance at Logan when the driver suddenly says to me, "Congratulations!" Logan tilts closer to me and whispers, "I just told him we are newlyweds on our honeymoon."

"Oh. Lovely," I reply with an eye roll. Logan shoots his arm out to slide it around me and then tucks my long hair behind my ear like we are just so smitten. He's grinning when I flick my finger off the tip of his nose. 

Logan darts his gaze back to the driver as he asks, "No es mi esposa tan hermosa? Tan bonita." He slides a finger down the side of my face and I have no idea what he just asked, but I know the word "Bonita". I dramatically frown at him and he tilts his head back and laughs, enjoying his own game.

"How do I say, I am going to kill you in Español?" I joke and he leans over and says, "Do you mean, te amo?" I swat his hand off me and I can't believe I am drunk in a car flirting with Logan. It's been so long since I've been flirted with, I don't even know if I am doing it properly.

We gaze out the window as the resort comes into view, and it's even more stunning than the photos. Nestled into the cliffside, it looks like a natural extension of the rocky terrain, with palm trees sprouting from crevices as though placed there by design. From the check-in area, the ocean is hidden from sight, but I know my room promises a view. 

"Do you have your own room?" I ask him as we drive along the stone path with gorgeous greenery splitting up the middle.

"Why? Wanna know if I am going to be alone?" He smirks and I pull his baseball hat over his eyes.

"No, I didn't know if you had to deal with the other drunken idiots or if you had some peace and quiet." We are about to pull up to the main doors when he says, "I have my own room. I can afford not to deal with drunken idiots. What about you?"

"Same. Some of the girls are sharing a room but I knew I would want my own space," I tell him, and he smirks at me again.

"Oh, so you'll be alone then too." I shake my head and tug his hat down further as he lets out a drunken laugh.

The driver pulls to a stop, and I'm not ready to step out into the thick, humid air. My hair is already frizzing, feeling heavier than usual as I pull it back into a ponytail. Logan handles the bags, swatting my hand away when I try to offer a tip. He slides cash into the driver's hand, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing when the driver says, "Gracias, Señor Harlow." Logan catches my eye, clearly aware of my barely contained amusement, but he strides off toward the doors with our bags in tow. I make a mental note to tease him about his new last name later.

The massive glass doors glide open as we step inside, and my gaze is immediately drawn to the grandeur of the lobby. Towering vases of exotic flowers are strategically placed, subtly directing guests toward the check-in counter or deeper into the hotel. Sunshine floods the airy space, highlighting the glossy floors and inviting every corner to be explored. I know I had planned to meet with the hotel coordinator as soon as I arrived, but the temptation to wander through this stunning oasis is too strong to resist. That meeting can wait.

I hand Logan my passport as we stand in line and ask, "Since you speak Spanish, can you check me in?"

"I guarantee you they speak English as well as they speak Spanish," Logan replies as he takes my passport from me.

"Yes, but you have that charm that might get me a room upgrade."

"Oh, you think I am charming?" 

There is a mischievous gleam in his eye as he squints at me.

I scoff, "Not in that sense. You just have the kind of charisma that gets you free stuff. And probably laid easily."

Logan eyes me and I am just as shocked that that came out of my mouth.

"Guess we'll see if it works on you later," he says with a wink, leaving me frozen as he saunters over to the check-in counter. Is this where Logan and I are now? Flirty banter about hooking up? I was supposed to be using him for intel on Chase and Ainslee, not for laughs and potential room upgrades.

I trail behind him slowly, listening as he switches seamlessly into Spanish. My passport is already on the counter in front of him, and I let him take the lead. When the receptionist asks for a card for incidentals, I hand over my credit card. She blushes as she returns our passports, her gaze lingering on Logan's charming grin.

Logan flashes her another wink as he collects the key cards, then turns to me with a smirk, handing one over.

"You are on the same floor as me but on a different end."

"Aren't we all together on the same floor? Didn't the bridal party book a block of rooms?" I ask. I was the one to request six rooms on the same floor per Ainslee's demands, so I am surprised to hear we'll be split up. 

"They were only able to accommodate a few rooms together. I told her we'd be happy to take the other rooms."

"Ah, so you also want to be away from the madness?"

He grins but doesn't deny it. We move away from check-in after our cards are stowed away and I'm readjusting my grip on the handle of my suitcase as he says, "It sounds like the rest of the bridal party is a few floors above us, I wonder if all the rooms are the same."

"Chase and Ainslee got one of those huts near the beach, so they probably don't care which floor we are on as long as we all have a room."

"Still lame they are having a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. We wanted Chase to have a proper send-off." Logan is walking toward the other end of the hotel where the lobby spills into the main restaurant. There are large sliding doors on the other end that keep opening to reveal a glistening pool just beyond them.

"What would that have included?" I ask as we continue toward the elevator. "Going to strip clubs in Vegas?"

"Gross, no," Logan says like that's the most absurd idea in the world. "We'd go to strip clubs in Greece." He looks back at me with a grin and I dramatically roll my eyes at him. "Kidding. About the strip clubs. Not Greece. We'd probably do the yacht thing. Smoke some cigars. Go cliff-jumping off the coast."

"That wouldn't have been a horrible bachelorette party either," I agree and then add, "Except for the cigars. We'd drink Rosè or Aperol Spritzes instead. We are refined."

"Instead we get tequila and overcrowded nightclubs," Logan whines and mutters, "And Ainslee's bridesmaids are not refined."

I am surprised he's a little bummed about the destination choice as well.

"And we get the beach," I groan as we step into the elevator and he looks at me for clarity.

"What's wrong with the beach?"

"I absolutely and wholeheartedly hate the beach," I confess and he drops his hands to his sides as his eyes go wide.

"What? The beach? You actually hate the beach? What's wrong with the beach." I can tell he is confounded by this confession. He cannot process my words.

"The sand for one, gets everywhere. In all cracks and crevices. I'll find it in my suitcase for years to come. And it's always just so hot, so you're forced to get into the ocean-"

"What's wrong with the ocean?!" He asks, appalled that there is more. The elevator doors open and we cross onto our floor but we don't split off in different directions yet.

"You have no idea what's hiding in the water. I love looking at the ocean, and I'll enjoy listening to the waves as I sleep, but I am not getting in the water, so that leaves me melting while burning to death on the white sand. The whole thing is just unappealing to me."

"Stella...how are you going to handle this week? We have a boat day, horseback riding on the beach, snorkeling, and paddle boarding. More than half of this trip is going to be on the sand or in the water."

"I'm going to be too busy planning the wedding to enjoy all of the planned activities," I tell him in a voice that's clear I never had any intention of doing all of the bachelorette activities. That and I had did not want to watch Ainslee and Chase fawn all over each other all week. 

I can tell Logan does not accept that answer by the way his mouth is still slightly hanging open. He shakes his head and asks, "Do you hate the pool?"

"No. I love the pool. And I love that there is a bar in the pool here."

"Okay thank god," he jokes. "I thought our honeymoon phase was already over." He grins and I give him a slight push as I look at my key card. I look up at the room numbers and see I am to the left.

"I suppose work can wait," I announce, well aware that I am too buzzed to be professional anyway. "I am going to go change and wait for the gang at the pool," I tell him as I take my suitcase handle from his hand.

"Do you mind if I join?" He asks much more confidently than when he asked me that at the airport earlier. Alcohol will do that.

I shrug, "Sure. Having you there will save me from getting hit on endlessly." I smile a wide drunken smike at him and gives me a smirk before he says, "Not necessarily." He winks and then turns right down the hallway.

What the hell is happening here?