I nod in agreement, a relieved sigh punching up from my diaphragm. In all honesty, I’m not that concerned about the safety of the room. Sure, as a woman it’s a worry in any new place, especially if I’m alone. But my main concern right now is making sure that Everett doesn’t just leave. I feel a little shaky at the thought, like his presence has become something that I rely on, rather than a minor annoyance.
“I’d appreciate that.” My voice comes out softer than I intend it to, and Everett’s eyes flick to my lips for half a second when I wet them with the tip of my tongue. “Thank you.”
He just grunts, which I take to meanyou’re welcome, and steps back from me. The air around me feels suddenly much colder, and I shake my head to clear the thoughts of how warm I’d be pressed right up against him.
“Room 3 is all yours,” the woman says as we approach the counter again. “Just down the hall on the right.”
She glances between the two of us curiously, but doesn’t ask any questions. Everett takes the key and I take my card back so I can slip it into my wallet.
“Thank you,” I say, meeting her smile with one of my own. God knows what’s going through her mind right now. But I sure as hell know what’s been running through mine lately.
And every thought seems to linger back to the sexy rancher I’m meant to work for.
MARY
Everett and I don’t talk on the way down the hall, but it’s not the same easy silence from earlier. It’s edging toward awkward now, both of us uncertain and on edge. Or maybe I’m just projecting. I still feel a little off-kilter, like I’m walking through a dream. It might have something to do with being in a town that I don’t even know the name of, or maybe it’s just that I’m anxious about missing our meeting and being stranded.
The client we were supposed to be meeting hasn’t responded to my email yet, and I don’t have a signal to call them. It’s too late for a business call anyway, and it would be unprofessional to email them multiple times in a row. I just hate the idea of falling through on plans, especially when my boss could find out. He’s not the biggest asshole in the world, but he certainly doesn’t pull his punches when it comes to reprimanding employees.
I looked at the map on my phone briefly, back when we were in the diner. We’re in some tiny town that I’ve never heard of before in my life, somehow even farther away from the city than Windy River is. I probably couldn’t get an Uber out here if I tried, and it’d cost me an arm and a leg if something did come.
We’re well and truly stuck here. I hope someone can come get us in the morning, or that Everett has some other way of getting us back to the ranch.
The change of scenery when we make it to the room is enough to calm the breathless anxiety creeping up my spine, but my relief quickly evaporates when we step through the door.
I was hoping that a new space might lift the odd energy that has settled around us, but it just presses in even closer. The room is small, the bed pressed against the wall and yet still butting out into the small walkway.
A nightstand is wedged between the bed and the sofa, and an old TV sits, covered in dust, across from the sofa. The window offers a view of the setting sun over the edge of the trees, gauzy curtains hanging on either side. It doesn’t smell like cigarettes here, which I’m grateful for, and there’s a little bathroom tucked in the corner. It’s nothing special, just a toilet and a sink and a single person shower stall, but it’ll be plenty for the night.
The room is tiny on its own, but with Everett in here with me, it feels so crowded I can hardly breathe. I feel like I’ll crash right into him if I so much as twitch a finger.
Everett heads straight for the window as I glance around the room, awkwardness weighing on my shoulders. He pushes the curtains out of the way to check the seals, makes sure it’s locked, shoves up on it to make sure it won’t budge. That tension only mounts when he turns to face me. My breathing has been shaky since we started down the hall, but I can hardly force air into my lungs at all now. My palms are tacky and I can’t look away from his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the look in his eyes ishunger.
There’s at least five feet between us, him standing by the window, me at the side of the bed. It feels both like miles and not enough room to breathe.
“I can take the couch,” I offer.
I’m not paying much attention to what I’m saying. There’s not that same feeling of panic at the thought of him leaving now, but I still don’t really want him to.
I also don’t want to consider what it means that I want him to stay.
It’s a bad idea.
He shakes his head.
“I’ll go down the street,” he says firmly. “You won’t sleep well on the couch.”
“Then you can take the couch,” I say. There’s a desperation building in my gut, and I’m too scared to find the source of it. If I keep talking, maybe I won’t have to look at it too hard. “I put the room on my company card. It’s not fair for you to have to spend your own money when it’s my car that got us stuck here.”
“I can’t.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head again, something shifting in his eyes. He no longer looks confused at my behavior and slightly concerned. In fact, he’s no longer looking at me at all. This refusal is serious.
“That’s not a respectable thing for me to do, Ms. Bryce,” he says. “I’ll go down the street.”
My voice dies in my throat before I can correct him on my name, and just like that, I snap back to my senses. It’s so sudden that it almost makes me laugh. The room is just a room again, cheap cotton sheets and old, peeling paint. Everett is standing a perfectly reasonable distance from me, and he did me a favor by ensuring the room was safe.
“Right,” I say, my voice sounding a little more steady. “Of course. Thanks for checking the room for me.”
