Again with that word.
Comfortable.
That wasn’t something she ever felt with men who were essentially strangers.
They took their overnight bags and the food, Grayson balancing the drink tray, as they stepped into the lobby of their hotel.
Wren could already tell from the harried-looking clerk, something bad was about to happen.
Grayson placed the drinks on the counter, pulling out his phone as he gave his name, then searched for the email with the reservation number for their two rooms.
“I tried to contact you,” the clerk said. “I left a voicemail at the number on the reservation.”
Grayson frowned, then recalled something. “Shit,” he murmured, glancing in her direction. “Nora made the reservation. She texted a couple of hours ago, asking me to call her. We were busy and I forgot all about it.”
“We had an issue with some pipes earlier today,” the clerk explained. “It impacted a dozen rooms on the first floor. Soggy carpet, ruined flooring, the works. Because of the festival, we were fully booked. We tried to accommodate everyone as best we could, but you’re the last to arrive, and we only have one room left.”
Wren’s stomach clenched. “What?” she murmured.
“I’m terribly sorry. We will, of course, refund you for the other room, and management has allowed me to offer you complimentary breakfast for the inconvenience.” From the clerk’s tense, resigned expression, it was clear he was expecting them to rip into him. She suspected the poor guy had taken the brunt of a lot of pissed-off, half-drunk people’s anger this evening.
Grayson ran a hand through his hair. “Are there any other hotels nearby that?—”
The clerk cut him off, anticipating the question. He shook his head. “Every hotel in the vicinity has been booked for this weekend for months. The wine festival.”
Grayson sighed. “Yeah.”
The clerk gave him an apologetic look. “The nearest hotel I could find with vacancies is about fifty-five minutes from here.”
As much as Wren didn’t want to share a room with Grayson—because holy hell, no—she wanted to get back in the truck for another hour even less. She was running on fumes and ravenous. Their fries were getting cold.
Grayson glanced at her. “Drive on?”
The dark circles under his eyes proved he was as exhausted as she was.
“Are there two beds in the room?” Wren forced herself to ask. Grayson was leaving the decision to her, which was very sweet of him. The idea of sharing a room with him terrified her, but she didn’t have it in her to demand he drive an extra hour.
The clerk’s gaze lowered as he shook his head. “I just gave away the last room with two queens. This last one only has a king.”
“Any couch in the room?” Grayson asked the clerk, before looking in her direction. “I can sleep on it if so.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Grayson rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “Rollaway?”
“We’ve given all of those away as well. You’re actually the last people with reservations to check in,” the clerk explained.
Grayson looked at her and shrugged. “Up to you, little bird. I’m assuming Tommy won’t like you and me sharing a room. I’m okay to drive on if that’s what you prefer.”
Grayson had used that nickname one other time today, and Wren couldn’t begin to understand the effect it had on her. It sent a rush of warmth through her unlike anything she’d ever felt.
“Tommy and I broke up three weeks ago,” she said, still seriously considering his offer. The problem with driving on meant they had to drive back in the morning. The idea of getting up even earlier was too exhausting to consider.
“Good,” Grayson murmured.
Wren frowned, confused by that, but too tired to give it any thought. “It’s fine,” she forced herself to say. “We can make it work.”
Grayson’s shoulders relaxed, instantly relieved by her response. The fact he’d been willing to drive farther if she had insisted touched her.
