CHAPTER EIGHT
The stark white ceiling is too bright. Do hotel staff repaint it every year? It wouldn’t surprise me if they did. The bright morning sun reflects off the white surface. The thick curtains used by normal people to block out the morning light hang open and I roll over to try and hide from the sunny rays. My stomach rumbles as I bury my head in the pillow.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had a hangover.
But all the choices I made last night were with a straight head. The vodka I consumed earlier in the evening had burned out of my system long before we reached this hotel room. If I’m suffering from a hangover, it’s the emotional kind.
Grant pulls on the covers, and a short snore escapes between his lips as he rolls further away. The loss of his body steals my warmth with him. I’m too old to continue playing this game. What in the hell am I doing in Grant Moore’s hotel room?
Again.
I roll to my back and stare up at the ceiling resigned to the fact I’m awake.
This.
This right here.
This is my wake-up call.
It’s time to refocus on my life and get a plan.If you just let me get my life together like a real grown-up, I promise I’ll never drink again.I pray to the ceiling, my lips moving with the words but no sounds escaping.
Step one of my new life — get out of this hotel room.
My eyes scan the area, but none of my clothes are anywhere in the bedroom. They were all thrown around in the living room section of this unnecessarily large suite. I suffer from this problem whenever Grant shares space with me.
I wait and listen to Grant’s steady breathing. When I’m sure he’s sleeping peacefully, I remove myself from under the covers, slow inch by slow inch. My feet make contact with the floor when the covers rustle and I freeze.
A throat clears behind me. “You’re not attempting to sneak off are you?”
Busted.
With my ass on the edge of the bed I turn my upper body trying to play coy, but it’s not an emotion I’ve ever been good at. “Me? Never.”
Grant smirks at my unsuccessful attempt to lie. He’s propped himself up with an elbow resting on his pillow. With his mussed up hair and sleepy expression, he comes off smug… and sexy.
It’s annoying.
I refuse to imagine what he’d have been like had he woken up an hour earlier and seen how I slept wrapped around him most the night. Our legs intertwined and my head rested on his chest, both his hands wrapped around me in a hug and my body held in his firm grip.
We’re caught in a battle of wits and with each second the silence continues to grow heavy. I’m desperate to end it. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Oh good. By the time you’re done breakfast should be here.”
“You ordered breakfast?”
“Of course I did. It’s the most important meal of the day. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I ordered a little of everything.”
My mouth falls open in question. “How?”
“With the hotel phone.” He points at the device resting on my side of the nightstand. “You can dial zero for the operator and she’ll put you through to room service or it’s button eight or something. I always forget.”
“I mean when?” My eyebrows furrow at his implication I can’t use a phone in a swanky hotel room.
“Earlier. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you.”
“How was I sleeping? Never mind.” I have no desire to find the answer to that question.
Grant laughs seeming to understand my dilemma. “We can eat and then you can shower and dress. If you don’t have any other plans today Aspen and Finn invited us to a Giants game.”
