And we stopped.
Dex held up a hand to knock on the door but I stopped him by grabbing his wrist. I ducked my head and pressed my lips to his thumb, sucking a breath to steady myself. Dex was watching me with those dark, steady eyes—curious.
"Thank you for coming with me," I whispered.
His nostrils flared, and he nodded briskly.
I knocked but no one answered immediately.
I knocked again, this time harder.
Still nothing.
I knocked even harder, faster, more annoyingly persistent.
Still, nothing.
Dex leaned over me, pounding his fist against the door. "Open the fuckin' door," he growled.
Oh hell.
Six foot three and bossy? As long as it wasn't directed at me, it made my ovaries sing an opera.
The lock turning was the only thing that pulled me from my Dex-fantasies. For some reason, I suddenly wondered whether my dad still hadfacial hairor not.
It was just like a movie in slow motion.
The door opening.
The dark hotel room.
The expectation.
At the door, a woman stood in a t-shirt three sizes too large. A woman that was possibly only a decade older than me.
"Uh, can I help you?"
If he was in there, I was going to kill him.I decided that immediately.
I ignored the woman in front of me and looked over my shoulder at my dark-haired Dex. I wasn't going to have a panic attack or turn into a rabid raccoon with him behind me, that was for sure. "Are you sure this is his room?"
All he needed to do was nod before a confidence and a rage I wasn't extremely familiar with, flooded my stomach.
Fuck this.
With balls that I didn't even know I had, I leaned forward and spoke louder than I probably ever had. "I know you're in there, and I'm not leaving until you get out here."
Where the hell had meek little Iris gone?
"The fuck?" the woman spat, frowning.
Classy. "The man in there with you needs to come talk to his daughter."
"Daughter?" Baloney. This woman was absolutely baloney.
There was a noise coming from the recesses of the hotel room, a voice talking so low I'm surprised the person in front of me could hear. My ears were ringing so loud with adrenaline and frankly anger that I couldn't hear anything clearly.
I had my eyes locked on the lady in front of me, taking in her dark hair, olive skin, light eyes. She was a poor replica of my mother, I thought, as mean as I would have normally assumed the thought was. But I didn't care then. I sized her up. I watched her take a step back and turn around to talk to the man in there.
