CHAPTER FOUR
I’m doing something stupid.
My heart won. Or maybe my body, since right now my attraction to Knox is a hormonal one. Regardless, the only thing I’m sure of is my brain lost the argument over whether this is a good idea. It most certainly is not a good idea, but I’m doing it anyway.
“You getting out or what?” the cabbie asks in broken English and a slight New York accent.Maybe he’s watched too many episodes ofTaxi. The meter runs and as long as I pay my bill I don’t know why he cares. But it’s enough to make me start moving.
I toss some bills his way. It’s more than I need to pay for the cab and a nice tip. I’m still a little hazy on the conversion factor to American dollars, but at least they know I didn’t short him. I’ll add it to the list of expenses I sendmy brother. Transportation costs or something. He promised reimbursement for my expenses. This may not be exactly what he had in mind, but he’ll never notice. The evil thought brings a slight smile to my face when I exit the cab.
The material of my pink snow pants brushes together as I walk up the long winding sidewalk to the front of the athletes’ corridors. I didn’t have one of those long browntrench coats women are always naked underneath when they walk into the guy’s house. There won’t be any sexy scene where I open a long jacket, exposing myself to Knox, and then we fall into a huge sex fest.
But I wouldn’t be Reagan Jonsson if I didn’t have something planned.
It’s February. I’m in another country. At an athletic event. My choiceswerelimited. But Knox is a snowboarder so I assumehe’s turned on by…different things than the general population. Hopefully it’s cheap plastic snow pants. It’s not like I could Amazon Prime myself something sexy. I’m hopeful he’ll see all my snow gear and the fact I’m naked underneath it as close enough to the same thing.
A girl has to dream.
And work within her means.
Plus, a snowsuit in the middle of winter is a lot less of a giveaway thanif I walked around in a trench coat and a pair of high heels. Who did those women think they were fooling, anyway?
I walk through the front door of the complex at 10:58 p.m., two minutes before the athletes go on lockdown.
Another benefit of the snowsuit. I look like I belong here.
Really, this decision continues to get better and better. I stop in front of the elevator bank and hit the numberfor Knox’s floor. I’m alone on the ride up, slowly chanting, “I think I can. I think I can,” like the engine story Mom always read me at night. But when the elevator dings and the doors open, I freeze.
I definitely can’t do this.
It’smostlya guarantee Knox is alone in his room because my brother will stay with Marley at the hotel, especially now that he is no longer competing this week. Theproblem isn’t if Knox is in his room. It’s if Knox is in his room alone.
Two steps off the elevator, I stop in the middle of the hallway. If I turn right I head to the girls’ side of the floor. If I turn left I’m closer to Knox.
Unable to make the decision I do nothing. Just take up space in the middle of the hallway thankful the elevators haven’t produced anyone else. It’s early in the gamesand many athletes have competitions coming up. As the week drags on and more people finish their events, the halls will get louder and rowdier. Especially the American floors.
The longer I wait the more of my seductress persona evaporates. If I don’t do something soon I’ll end up a nervous wreck. Slipping my phone from my pocket I send Knox a quick text.
Reagan: You awake?
It takes him lessthan a minute to answer. I decide to take it as a good sign.
Knox: Yeah. What’s up? The doors are closing in like a minute.
Reagan: Are you in your room?
As I type out the texts, the elevator doors open. A group of girls file off laughing together that they made it back in time. Right under the line. Asbell, the public relations director and general overseer of the athletes does not like itwhen Americans get locked out. To not draw more attention to myself, I laugh and casually walk toward the men’s area.
I’m four rooms from Knox’s door when he responds.
Knox: Yeah.
I stop two doors away. My eyes boring holes in his room number.
Reagan: Are you alone?
This text comes as quickly as the previous.
Knox: Yes? Is something going on?
