Yes, look at this mess. My heart stuttered, a sinking sensation replacing the cracked, wide-open one from before.
Mick had given me not one, not two—butthreeorgasms.
Yet, I’d failed to tell him the truth when I came back to the hotel room.
“I lied to you!” I confessed with a rush of breath, unable to hold it in anymore.
Mick stiffened behind me. “What?”
“I lied to you earlier when I said I left to go check into my hotel. I mean, I did check into my room at the Benton Budget. But I didn’t decide to do that until I woke up to a text. A text from Dwayne.”
Mick didn’t speak right away. I could swear the temperature of the bathwater actually dropped a few degrees by the time he finally responded.
“So that wanker came to his senses and begged you to take him back.”
I jolted. “How did you know?”
“Look at you, Kayla.” I sensed Mick shake his head behind me. “What bloke in his right mind would choose some reality barm cake over you?”
His tone implied that his reasoning was obvious. But I had to point out, “Lots of men would choose a reality star over me. Especially in L.A.”
“Then lots of blokes in L.A. are stupid.” Mick’s voice took on a note of finality. Like a king making the kind of decree you weren't allowed to argue against.
My heart did all sorts of gymnastics in my chest.
I didn’t know whether to feel supremely complimented or utterly guilty.
So I just pressed on with my confession. “Anyway, his text brought up a lot of feelings. And that’s why I left—why I really left. I should have told you as soon as I returned to the room. But I didn’t. And I’m really, really sorry about that.”
A long, tense beat.
And when Mick spoke again, his voice was quieter but somehow harder at the same time. “So, you only returned here to get your luggage before swingin’ like a pendulum back to your wanker ex? The sex was—what then? Some kinda consolation prize for your sad one-night stand?”
“Wait. That’s where you think I’m going with this confession?” I sat up and turned around to look at him—at least as much as I could, considering the tub’s tight confines.
“I left because I didn’t think it was fair to answer Dwayne’s text while you were asleep in the next room. But even after I checked into my hotel room, it still didn’t feel right to answer him. Like, it was just crystal clear that Dwayne didn’t deserve even a second more of my attention. So, I blocked him instead.”
I let out a long breath. “I blocked him. Then I came right back here. To get my luggage—but also to have breakfast with you. Like Ipromised. Mick, I’m so sorry I confused you with my behavior.”
I laid a hand over my heart. “I get that this is just a one-night stand, but I wanted to be honest with you. Because, at least for today, you’re the one who deserves my attention right now. Not him.”
“Honest…” Mick stared back at me, his black eyes cagey and assessing. Then he asked, “You really hate our kind of football that much?”
I furrowed my brow, jolting at the sudden callback to our totally silly conversation from earlier. “I mean, hate is a strong word.Mehis probably a better descriptor.”
I laughed a little, but Mick’s expression remained serious, bordering on grave. “So, if a big footballer came along, someone with real flash and enough money to stay at this place without Tourmaline having to put up the dosh—the kind of footballer ’em paps outside would be gaggin’ to get a picture of. If one of ’em had also put it to you on that plane, you’re sayin’ you’d be like, ‘Thanks for the offer, mate, but I’d rather hook up with this nobody electrician I just met. Toodle-oo!’?”
I squinted, not completely sure I understood the question. “Are you asking me if I’d rather get with a famous soccer player than with you?”
“Yeah.” Mick gritted his jaw. “Somethin’ like that.”
“No!” My answer came out in an instant, without a second of thought. “First of all, I don’t ever want to get with any kind of pro athlete ever again. Football, baseball, soccer, I don’t care. As far as I can tell, even the players who seem nice are liars and cheats. And second of all…”
My face heated, despite the now lukewarm bath water. “I don’t want to sound too thirsty, but I like you. And it’s not just about the sex. I think you’re kind and smart and funny—even if you're not trying to be that last one.
Too much! Too much!I knew I was being all sorts of extra, considering that this was only supposed to be a one-night stand.
But I pressed on with my confession. “I mean, you’re a really great and down-to-earth guy. I’d rather watch you fix a downed electric power line than watch any kind of sports star play whatever he plays, any day of the week.”
