* * *
“We only have one room left.” The peppy clerk at the desk sounds unapologetic at this news.
“Two beds?” I say hopefully to her.
“One king. That’s all we got, and the next motel with a vacancy tonight isn’t for fifty miles. Take it or leave it.”
I turn to look outside at where Hannah’s sitting inside my truck, which is live-parked under the pass-through. I figured she wouldn’t want anyone seeing her in her state, so I told her I’d take care of securing the rooms.
Which is now one room. And one bed. And I’ve been in a state of arousal since I found my stowaway.
I’m fucked.
I look back at the clerk. “We’ll take it.”
* * *
“Right this way.” I usher Hannah around the truck and underneath the awning that runs the length of the one-story motel. “Here we are.”
I’m sliding my key card into the door when Hannah asks me, “Is this my room?”
“Yep.” I get the door open and wait until she’s inside with her purse and I’ve shut the door behind us before I add, “And mine.”
She whips around to stare up at me. “What?”
I drop my bag and hold up my hands. “There was only one room left.” I gesture to the bare-bones space before us with a sink outside the bathroom, a TV on the wooden dresser, and, most importantly, a single king-sized bed in the middle of the room. “This is it.”
Hannah gasps. “But I hardly know you! And you’re so…” She gestures wildly in my general direction. “You know.”
I cross my arms over my chest and face her head-on. “I’m so…what? You can tell me.”
“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?” I ask her innocently. “I’m so…what?”
“So hot, okay?” Her whole face turns red. “You know you’re ridiculously hot. What are you, like a professional actor or model?”
I chuckle. “Hardly.”
It’s a reasonable assumption given that we’re coming from L.A., but I’m enjoying teasing her too much to let her off the hook.
“If you’re not an actor or a model…then what do you do for a living?”
Here it comes. “I play football.”
She stares at me. “Cool,” she says after a moment.
I wait for the fangirling, but none comes. Part of me is relieved, and the jackass part of me is disappointed.
I’m used to women getting off on what I do. Getting dates in college was as simple as walking off the field after games—the girls would swarm us. But Hannah truly doesn’t seem to give a shit. Her gaze is darting around the room as if she can maybe magically conjure up a second bed.
“I’ll take the chair,” I say, pointing at the small armchair in the corner of the room.
She’s already shaking her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. We’ll draw a line down the center of the bed and each stick to our side.”
I fight a smile. “A line?”
“Yes. Haven’t you ever done that before?”
