“Rollaway beds. I checked.” He dashes his head, scratching the back of it. “Housekeeping is fresh out. Apparently, we’re not the only ones spending an unexpected night in a hotel.”
“Motel,” I correct, for no reason in particular.
Wincing, he drags his thumb and fingers down his jaw and chin, applying sufficient pressure to stretch his lips into a pucker. “Motel.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, and the neat wave it’s been combed into all evening is officially done for. “I am so sorry about this mess, Everly. I can’t imagine how awkward the situation is for you. I hope you know you’re…” His hand bobbles the air while his brain seems to search.
I smile gently, hoping to communicate appreciation and respect. “Are you telling me I’m safe?”
Tension visibly leaks out of his broad shoulders. “Yeah, that.”
I want to reach out and touch him, but given the situation, now isn’t the time. “I never doubted for a second. Not once. You’re a nice guy.”
“Nice? Me? Hey, I’m a…a…” Again, he’s word searching, but this time with a flicker of humor.
“A teddy bear?”
He wags his finger. “Now that’s just rude.”
“Let me guess.Teddy bearis an insult in man-land.”
“You don’t even know.”
A real laugh gurgles from my throat. “Okay, you’re a beast. Is that better?”
He thumps the end of his fist to his chest, grunting caveman style. “That’s more like it.”
Laughter from both of us vaporizes the tension.
My feet stay on the questionable carpet, but I lie back, face toward the popcorn ceiling, nearly giddy, for utterly nonsensical reasons. “This is a weird night.”
“Unexpected.”
I hear a creaking sound and loll my head. Knox has seated himself at the table, drumming his fingers. “To say the least.”
I push up to my elbows. “You want to watch a movie?”
The crazy hair and two-buttons-undone shirt don’t help me not notice Knox’s attractiveness. From muddy work attire to evening wear to late-night comfort, the guy launches a fleet of butterflies in my stomach. The man is made of muscle, and the fact that those muscles come from hard work lands squarely on theproslist.
I swallow down a fresh burst of attraction.
“Sure. What do you suggest?”
“Hmm. Isn’t that always the question?”
Truthfully, I doubt I can focus on a movie, but my mind has already developed a snapshot of Knox and me, relaxed against the headboard, elbow to elbow, sharing more laughs.
He clasps his hands between his knees. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”
“You know that one about a reindeer?”
He coughs a laugh. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. And the snowman comes second.”
He snorts.
“I don’t see what’s so funny. What’s your favorite?”
“A Christmas Carol,” he answers sans hesitation.
