I lift Cove gracefully with full intent to carry her as far as she’ll let me. Her ask but my honor. “I can show you my other side if you’d like? The side I’m not so sure you could handle, my love.” I stand, carrying her bridal style, and turn toward the bellhop, waiting idly to the side with her bags.
Shit. Forgot about him.
“Jesus Christ,” she exhales, flustered by my wordsdespite our audience. Cove peers at him with unmatched kindness. “Victor,” she calls. “Be a doll and see us to our rooms, pretty please.” My feet don’t stop, knowing the only room I’m taking her to is mine.
After I feed her, of course.
“But, Ms. Davenport, you’re needed for check-in,” Victor stammers.
Cove waves him off. “And I’ve stayed here how many times?”
“Enough to know my birthday, ma’am.”
“That’s exactly right. June eighth is a beautiful day to be celebrated. Plus, Seascape has a permanent room with my name on it. Please have it ready for me, Vic. And tip yourself on the company card while you’re at it.”
“That’s very generous of you, Ms. Davenport,” Victor stutters, following behind us to the elevators. As soon as the doors open, we step inside, Victor still lingering in the hall with Cove’s bag.
I reach out, and he hands it over. “I’ll take this from here, Victor.” I nod, dismissing him kindly.
“Yes. Of course,” he replies.
The elevator doors begin to close as Cove yells out, “You’re my favorite, Victor! Don’t you forget it!”
“I’m not sure he could if he tried. You’re not easily forgotten.”
Cove squeezes me tighter as the elevator ascends. “You’re not wrong about that. Give me five minutes, and I’m yours for the night.”
“Best pizza of my entire life.”
“Bold statement there. Let me guess, you’re Italian?”
Cove’s head rears back in disbelief. “Holy shit. You’re good.”
I chuckle. “Nah. I’m not. Your feistiness gave it away.”
She shoves my shoulder, body shifting back and forth as we walk back to the hotel. Thankfully, the ‘best pizza in town’ was less than a five-minute walk from The Beverly.
More time to be alone.
“Oh, I’m feisty, am I?” I’ve come to love it when Cove is surprised by something. Her whole body works through the emotion—face turning red, eyes bulging wide, and lips turned up in the cutest little smirk. It almost looks like a pout. A happy pout, if that’s even a thing.
I want to hold her hand.
“Very much so,” I tell her, ushering her to the side of the sidewalk farthest from the street. “Stay over here, woman.”
Cove’s energy is contagious right now. It seems she got a second wind the moment the greasy carbs hit her system, now twirling and all but dancing down the busy Chicago street.
“Always the gentleman.”
I reach for her hand because I can’t help it. It’s just there. Dangling beside me like it wants to be held. I’m only listening to fate. Cove’s eyes fall to the motion of our fingers laced, an unsure smile crossing her face. She tries to hide it, but I see it.
“Just looking out for you while you’re in my care, Cove. Don’t overthink it, remember?” I wink, reiterating our words from earlier to her.
“Do you date a lot?” Random question, but I expected it to come up at some point.
“Hardly ever.” Her expression draws a blank. “I knowwhat you’re thinking. Not exactly a good sign for the elderly.”
A loud laugh vibrates between us. “Ifyouare what the world considers elderly, then I’ve been dating in the wrong pool for years. You’re hot as hell, Stetson. And to go off what you said, I disagree. There was a time when I would have thought that, but not now. The older I get, the more difficult it is to find men who aren’t sleeping with six other women at the same time. When I settle down with someone, I want to be their everything. I won’t share the love of my life with another woman.”
