“Nope.”
Mason laughs like he already knew my answer. “You want to order room service? I can be a gentleman and make you hide in the bathroom when they bring it up.”
“How are you hungry?” I ask, finally laughing because I can’t help myself. “We just left a banquet not thirty minutes ago.”
“How often do you think we’ll have Louis Brenard’s staff at our beck and call?”
When he puts it that way…
“Fine. I want something chocolate.”
And that’s how I end up hiding in Mason Knight’s hotel bathroom. Most girls would use this rare opportunity to snoop about, sniff his soap, post a picture on social media, proudly tagging it for all to see. You know:
#MasonKnightForever
#DiedAndGoneToHeaven
#IWantToSmellLikeMason
Thankfully, I’m not that girl. Instead, I sit on the counter and stare at the white shower curtain, waiting for Mason to collect me.
What kind of shampoodoeshe use, anyway? I bet it’s something ridiculously expensive. Something that costs fifty dollars an ounce and is made from extracts expelled from rare Amazonian berries. And just like that, curiosity gets the best of me. I hop down from my perch, glance at the door, and peer around the shower curtain.
There is precisely one bottle on the ledge—a three-in-one common grocery store product that claims to be shampoo, conditioner, and body wash all in one. I frown at the bottle, stumped.
That doesn’t seem right at all.
But what does itsmelllike?
Good grief. When did I sink to this level?
Quickly, before I can change my mind, I reach for the bottle and snap open the top.
Just as I take a tentative sniff, Mason says from behind me, “I can honestly say I didn’t expect to find you half in my shower.”
I let out an embarrassed yip, lose my footing, and tumble headfirst toward the tiled wall. Before I collide, Mason snakes his arm out, catching me around the waist. The move inadvertently yanks me to his chest and puts me in a position that thousands of girls would climb over police barricades to find themselves in.
We stand here for several seconds, neither of us speaking as I silently curse myself.
Really, Harper? You had to smell his shampoo?
Slowly, when he’s sure I won’t tumble forward, he releases me. I turn, hoping to act nonchalant about the whole thing.
“Let’s be honest. That was weird, wasn’t it?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Happens all the time. You’d be surprised how many girls I’ve caught smelling my shower products.”
I stare at him for several moments, narrowing my eyes. “Really?”
“No.” He grins. “Believe it or not, I don’t invite too many girls up to my room.”
“Emphasis on ‘not too many.’”
Mason backs to the counter, crossing his arms as he effortlessly rests against the marble. “You’re a bit cynical, aren’t you?”
The bathroom’s too small to carry on a conversation. Mason’s right there, far too close, and it’s disconcerting. I walk to the main room, watching him from the corner of my eye as I go. He chuckles under his breath and follows me out.
“How much food did you order?” I gape at the spread, forgetting about the embarrassing shampoo incident. There are at least ten tiny plates, all filled with various varieties of chocolate.
