“We’d like two rooms, please,” I say, hoping the authority in my voice will somehow save the situation.
But the woman’s brow creases. “Do you have a reservation?”
Dammit.
“No,” I admit, and she shakes her head.
“We’re full, I’m afraid.” She motions to the window. “What with the weather, and all.”
Fuck. We’re screwed.
I glance at Aidan in panic, pulse plummeting. We’ll freeze to death in his fancy car on the side of the highway, all because I couldn’t do my damn job.
He senses my spiraling thoughts, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back as he steps forward. “Are you sure there’s nothing?” he asks calmly. “We’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
The woman glances at her screen again. “Actually… hang on. There might be one room left. A cancellation came through an hour ago.” She clicks around for a moment, then nods. “Yep, we’ve got one.”
Relief floods through me, and I sag against the counter. “Oh, thank God,” I mutter.
“It’s only a double, I’m afraid,” she adds. “Hope you don’t mind sharing.”
My relief is short-lived as Aidan’s eyes whip to mine, flickering with hesitation.
“I’ll take the floor,” I blurt, and he frowns. I can’t tell if it’s in disagreement or offense.
He turns to the woman, holding out his credit card. “We’ll take it. Thanks.”
Then we grab our key, making our way to the room. The room itself is pleasant enough, with cream walls, cute bedside lamps with rope details, and a plethora of nautical-themed pillows on the double bed.
The bed I won’t be sleeping in.
Crap. I should have asked the receptionist if she had any extra blankets.
I drop my bag on the chair by the sliding glass door that, I can only assume, opens to the beach. All I can see is blackness beyond the glass, but when I strain my ears, I can make out the muffled roar of waves beneath the wind, and the faint hint of salt clings to the air.
“You’re not taking the floor,” Aidan says, moving my bag to the bed. “I’ll take the floor.”
“No way.” My hands go to my hips. I see he’s brought the Mariner’s Daughter bag in too, which we also need to address. “This whole thing is my mistake, so I’ll take the floor.”
“Forget it. I’ll sleep in the snow before I let you take the floor, Cupcake.”
I snort. “Go on, then.”
He glances at the inky blackness beyond the sliding door and grimaces. I laugh.
“Come on. Let’s just share the bed, okay?”
But his brow creases even more, and hurt seeps through me. Is hethatturned off by the thought of sleeping next to me?
“I’m not sure if…” He swallows thickly. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
Oh.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, pretending I’m unaffected by what he’s implying. “I’m sure we can be… sensible.”
He gives me a long look. One that says he’s not so sure. It sends a delicious shiver through me.
“Here.” I tug the comforter down and grab three pillows, creating a sort of pillow wall down the center of the bed. “See? Completely safe.”
