She glances around the lobby, a teasing glint in her eye. “If only there was one nearby.”
I rub the back of my neck, trying not to grin. “Yeah. That would be convenient, huh?”
We’re both smiling now, but I’m the first to break the stare. “I’m gonna go see if they have a room.”
With that, I march over to the front desk like a man on a mission. The receptionist looks up with polite disinterest and clicks a few keys when I ask about availability.
“We do have a few rooms left,” she says, fingers flying over the keyboard. “How many nights?”
I answer then glance over my shoulder. Brooke’s still standing by the bag I abandoned when I walked over to her, watching me with that half-amused, half-intrigued expression I remember so well.
Turning back to the receptionist, I exhale slowly.God, I really thought I was over this awkwardness.I’ve pitched campaigns worth millions, negotiated with CEOs, flown halfway across the world for meetings, and yet one look from her and suddenly I’m an idiot again, sweating through a group project.
She brings out the nerd in me. Always has.
The receptionist slides a keycard across the counter. “Breakfast is served until ten,” she says with a polite smile.
I nod, thanking her, and make my way back to Brooke, waving the key in the air. “Got a room.”
“1406,” she says, glancing at her own keycard.
I look down at mine. “1606.” I grin before I can stop myself. “I’m on top of you.”
She tilts her head, lips twitching.
I say, “I mean, technically I’m two floors-”
“-on top of me,” she finishes teasing.
We both chuckle before heading toward the elevators together. It’s packed, of course, and because the universe enjoys my humiliation, it’s thesame familyfrom the lobby, the mom still eyeing me like I might start following people home, the dad giving me another approving nod.
They step off on the third floor, leaving just the two of us and the steady hum of silence as the elevator glides upward.
When it dings on the fourth, Brooke steps out, then turns back and wedges her hand between the doors to hold them open. “Wanna get some food?”
“Yeah,” I nod eagerly. “I’m starving. That salad was tiny.”
“You should’ve gotten the pasta,” she says, one brow arched.
“Yeah,” I shrug, “I’ll come to your room in thirty.”
“Make it an hour,” she says with a small smile. “I need a long shower.”
“Got it.”
The doors start to close, and for some reason, because I’m apparently still a socially inept idiot around her, I wave.I wave.
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a laugh as the elevator doors slide shut between us.
Stupid fucking idiot.
Chapter Three
Brooke
I can’t stop smiling.
I keep trying, biting the inside of my cheek, staring at the ceiling, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, but the grin creeps back every single time.
