“Of course I’m sure. It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re both here for Ashley and Eric and you need to be around if they need us just like I do.” Besides, I booked a room with two double beds, thinking I was staying with my friend, Cole.
“Thanks, Kaylee. I really appreciate it.” His easy smile is full of warmth.
A couple had walked around us to check in, and we wait for them to finish. Soon it’s our turn to step up to the woman behind the desk. “Kaylee Martin,” I tell her, handing over my license and credit card, and explain we’re going to be sharing the room.
Before the receptionist can reply, a woman with two young children inserts herself too close to me and begs for just one second of the clerk’s time. One second turns into almost five minutes, but she finally leaves.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman tells me. “It’s crazy today.” She taps on her keyboard a few more times and hands me a folio withtwo keys for the room. I hand one to Tristan and my skin tingles with awareness where our fingers brush.
I force an unaffected smile and grab my suitcase.
Before I can walk to the elevator, Tristan takes the handle, winks, causing flutters to rise in my stomach, and gestures for me to go ahead of him.
As I make my way, I realize it’s going to be a long weekend sharing a room with this man.
It’s going to be an even longer one than I imagined because now I’m in my hotel room, I’m staring at one lone bed and I groan.
CHAPTER TWO
Kaylee
Istare atthe king-size bed in disbelief.
Behind me, Tristan stops short. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping around me and following my gaze. “Oh. There’s just one bed.”
“I planned on reminding her but that woman with her crying kids interrupted me and I forgot.” Sharing a room is something I can handle. Sharing a bed, however? Not so much, I think, and bite down on my lower lip. “This is a mistake. I’ll call the front desk and get it sorted out.”
I do, and the woman who checked me in confirms I booked a double with two queen beds. Relief fills me until she explains they’re fully booked, as they told the older couple, and there are no other available rooms to switch. She apologizes profusely and I hang up, assuring her it’s not her fault.
“We’re stuck with this room, aren’t we?” Tristan asks. He’s moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back on his elbows, looking extremely relaxed and even more sexy than usual.
I know it’s not intentional, but he’s doing nothing to make this situation any easier. “What is up with this resort?” I ask, frustration lacing my tone. “First, they nearly ruined that other couple’s anniversary, and now they’ve given me the wrong room.”
“Did you also use a third-party booking site?” he asks.
I turn to find him smirking and I laugh, letting the stress go. “No, if I’d done that, we wouldn’t even have this room.” I foldmy arms across my chest and look toward the window, where I see the sun has now fully set. Darkness cloaks the outdoors and we’re safe inside. That’s all I can ask for.
“We’ll make do,” I tell him.
He nods, easing up to a sitting position. “And if not for you, I’d have been stuck sleeping in my car. Sleeping on the couch is an upgrade.”
“You really are an optimist,” I say to him. A glance toward the sitting area and I see the couch in question is a loveseat. Way too small for a man as tall as Tristan. It’s even a little small for me, but I’ll fit better than he will. “There’s no way you’ll fit. I’ll take the couch.”
He’s already shaking his head before I finish speaking. “No way. I’ll sleep on the sofa, you take the bed.”
I can’t help but smirk. “An optimistanda gentleman? How did I get so lucky?” His eyes light up in amusement at my teasing, but I’m not letting him get his way. “I’m taking the couch,” I insist.
He rubs his hand along the back of his neck, then shakes his head at me. “I had no idea you were so stubborn,” he says, standing.
“I come by it naturally,” I mutter.
“Well, if there’s one thing my grandfather taught me, it’s to put a woman’s comfort and safety above my own. He’d roll over in his grave if I let you sleep on that tiny couch while I’m stretched out on a bed that was yours to begin with.” He pulls up the handle on his suitcase, drags it to the sitting area, and plops it onto the couch, as if that settles things.
I’m about to argue further, enjoying this banter more than any disagreement I’ve had before, but my phone goes off. I grab it from my bag and see it’s a text. “It’s Ashley. She’s reminding me the dinner starts in thirty minutes.”
My cousin knows I get easily distracted and even on her wedding weekend, she takes time to remind me not to be late. With people I love, I don’t take it personally, I’m grateful for them. With assholes who use my weaknesses against me? Another story entirely, I think, remembering Mark without any fondness.
“We have half an hour to meet everyone downstairs,” I tell Tristan. “I’m looking forward to dinner. I’ve heard the restaurant has an amazing seafood menu.” And I do enjoy lobster.
