It's late—an hour or so from midnight—when we step into the inn's dimly lit lobby, our footsteps soft and steady over the hardwood floors.
And yet with every step I take, I wonder if I can really do this.
Get Luke to my room without waking the guests.Or alerting the staff.
Or having a complete nervous breakdown about what's about to happen.
The November chill follows us inside, but I'm burning up under my coat.Luke's hand is warm on my lower back, and every nerve ending in my body is focused on that point of contact.
"Shh," I whisper, even though he hasn't made a sound."Mira's probably asleep.And Mrs.Henderson has ears like a bat."
"Bats use echolocation, not?—"
I press a finger to his lips, trying not to think about how those lips were just telling me his deepest secrets on a private train car."Not the time for a biology lesson, Professor."
His eyes darken behind his glasses, and oh.
Oh, I'm in trouble.
We're halfway across the lobby when my life decides to be exactly as chaotic as always.Buttercup materializes from behind the registration desk like a fuzzy white demon sent to test me.
"Maaah?"she inquires at full volume.
"Shh!"I hiss."Buttercup, please.Just this once."
She tilts her head, considering my request, then bleats loud enough to wake the dead and possibly some of the living in the next county.
"Of course," I mutter."Of course you choose now to be vocal."
"Maybe she's happy to see us?"Luke suggests, and even now he's trying to find logic in goat behavior.
"She's happy to see you.She tolerates me."I scoop up the terrorist in goat form, who immediately tries to eat Luke's sleeve."No.Bad goat.We don't eat the nice billionaire."
"Nice?"
"Would you prefer 'emotionally available billionaire whose bones I plan on jumping’?”
"That's a mouthful."
My brain immediately goes to the gutter."That's what she—Nope.Not making that joke while holding a goat."
Luke's laughing silently, his shoulders shaking, and god, I love that I can make the nerdy grump of a CEO laugh.
We make it to the stairs, where I set Buttercup down with my sternest look."Stay.Guard the desk.Eat some paperwork."
She bleats again but mercifully doesn't follow as we climb.Every creak of the old wood sounds like a gunshot in the quiet inn, and I'm hyperaware of Luke behind me, of what we're about to do.
"Which room?"he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
"End of the hall.The owner's suite."I pause, realizing how that sounds."Former owner.Current owner.It's complicated."
"Everything with you is complicated."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I'm starting to think I like complicated."
My heart does something acrobatic in my chest, but before I can respond, the universe strikes again.Mrs.Henderson's door opens, and she peers out, wearing a nightgown that could double as a circus tent and curlers that make her look like she's receiving signals from space.
