He filled the entire doorway. I took in gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a bare chest and bare feet before he pushed the door open and stepped past me into my room.
“It was a spider.” I trailed after him, pulling the towel from my hair.
He was already at the doorway of the bathroom, and that was the moment I saw the large silver weapon in his hands.
“Is that a gun?” I stammered, as he checked under the bed and then in the closet.
Only when he’d cleared the room of everything but spiders did he turn to me. He looked both irritated and tightly reined in, like it took effort to keep himself under control.
“It was a spider,” I repeated.
“I heard you.” His tone was clipped.
I could hear the apology in my tone. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His eyes narrowed at me. “I wasn’t scared.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Get your stuff.”
Annoyance radiated off him hot enough that I didn’t question him. I disappeared into the bathroom to start collecting my toiletries. Why was he making me pack? Were we leaving the hotel? I shoved everything into my cosmetic case and then opened the bathroom door.
Axel was leaning against the desk with his arms crossed over his bare, muscular chest. He had lifted my open suitcase onto the end of the bed.
“Keep packing.”
I wanted to ask him where we were going, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood for questions. I hastily shoved everything in my suitcase and zipped it shut with a lot of effort, but when he stepped forward to lift it off the bed, I realized I was still in my robe.
“I forgot to get dressed,” I exclaimed.
“We’re just walking to my room.” He pulled the suitcase off the bed and didn’t give me a chance to reply as he wheeled my bag to the door. I scrambled to pick up my dad’s trumpet and my phone charger.
He held open the door for me.
I stalled at the entryway. “We’re going to your room?”
“It’s not up for negotiation.” His voice was flat.
“It was just a spider.”
“When you scream from a different room, I don’t know if it’s a spider or someone else, do I?”
“I can’t help it if I scream involuntarily,” I complained, following him down the hallway in my robe and slippers, trumpet in hand.
“I know,” he said as he unlocked his door and held it open for me. “But if you’re in the same room and you scream, I can assess the threat without having to go through two doors.”
He wheeled my suitcase to the far side of the room and lifted it onto a luggage rack.
I looked around the room. It was identical to mine, except this one had two queen beds instead of a king bed. His suitcase was neatly set to the side, and I assumed his stuff was hanging in the closet. His phone was charging on the nightstand, and therewas an economics magazine tossed on his bed, like he had been reading it when my scream interrupted his peace.
There was something uncomfortably intimate about coming into his personal space. It would be impossible to relax around him.
“What if I promise not to scream again?” I bargained.
He moved to his nightstand and put his gun in the drawer. “You just told me your screams were involuntary.”
“I think we should talk about this a bit,” I countered.
