She grinned. “My granny is also ninety.”
His mouth twitched. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How old are you?”
“I thought that question is off-limits once a lady passes the age of twenty-nine.”
Something like relief settled over his features. “So you are over thirty.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “Iamthirty. Turned June 2nd. Gemini.” She threw out her hands in a ta-da gesture.
“I’m forty.”
“Congratulations?” She raised her brows. “Given the circumstances, it’s fair to say we are both of a certain age. Like in cavemen times, at thirty I’d be ready to call it a life after having sixteen kids and once eating a handful of berries, so have some perspective. It’s not like I’m fourteen and you’re twenty-four. Speaking of which, the year I was fourteen, that was a good time. The iPhone came out. The craziest news was that Brittany Spears shaved her head.”
“Simpler days.”
“No doubt.” She bent into a deep leg stretch, preparing for the upcoming run. “I’m more grizzled and the world harsher. And you sure as heck aren’t going to be able to do much to corrupt me and/or my delicate virtue at this point.”
He inclined his head. “Bet Icankick your ass in a sprint.”
“Oh, you didn’t go there.”
He made a show of glancing around. “Pretty damn sure I just did.”
And while what had happened with him in the bed, in the tub and, God help her, on the bathroom floor over the past few hours gripped her in uncertainty, on this point there would be no doubt: Tor Gunnar would eat her dust. She’d outrun her confusion and hopefully, at the end she’d arrive at clarity.
When they walked out of the room, an Adeline staff member moved to the side, pushing a room service cart down the hall. He gave a friendly smile before glancing at the room number.
“Room 309, huh? How’d you sleep?” He said the room number like it meant something.
Neve furrowed her brow as her stomach muscles tensed. How loud had they just been? Good lord, had the people around them complained? If so, she was ready to get a shovel and bury herself inside the nearest snowdrift. “I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly as the guy was clearly expecting an answer and not making idle chitchat.
“That’s good. Lots of the maids won’t even clean in there. They have to draw straws.”
“Why?” Tor asked in his usual no-nonsense tone. Even casually dressed for a run he had a way of looking in charge, aloof and cool—a master of the universe. Nothing like the guy who fell apart against her last night, a helpless look in his normally ice-blue eyes. Her mouth dried as she remembered his raw growl as he came undone in her mouth.
If she didn’t have a stubble burn on her inner thighs, she’d almost be inclined to believe it was all a dream. The sexiest dream she’d ever had, but impossible to conceive.
“They didn’t tell you at check-in?” The staffer seemed honestly surprised. “It’s often specifically requested by guests, as a test.”
“Test of what?” Tor asked, clearly inching toward impatience. His jaw was beginning to tighten and his gaze narrowed.
“The dueling ghosts can predict your love. Adeline Rose and Big Jim Cartwright.”
She and Tor exchanged quick glances.
“I’m sorry, can you please elaborate on this?” she asked. “I can’t say I’m familiar with dueling ghosts or love predictions.”
“There’s a plaque about it downstairs next to the front desk, but they say they only make an appearance if a couple is the real deal, so congrats! Now I’ve got to deliver these eggs to the bride before they get cold. There’s going to be a wedding tonight.” He whistled as he wheeled the breakfast cart away up the hall.
“I was bound and determined to get coffee before anything else, but I sort of think we have to go see this plaque.” She peered closer. “You look pale. What gives? Did you see Slimer floating around last night? Or maybe a giant Stay Puft marshmallow man wandering by the window?”
“No... but...” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Never mind.”
“Are you sure?” A chill stole down her spine. “For real, you’re starting to scare me a little.”
“Let’s go take a look at the plaque.” His tone was impassive. “Then we run.”
Down in the lobby, right near the check-in desk was a silver plaque beside a turn-of-the-century black-and-white wedding photo where neither half of the stern-faced couple appeared remotely happy.
