Page 72 of Hard to Handle

DEKKER

“YOU’RE KIDDING ME?” MY TEETH chatter and my body shivers.

Even with the heat on high, the constant blowing of my breath into my hands, and Hunter’s arm around me in the rideshare, I still can’t feel parts of my body as I stand in front of the reception desk in the lobby and stare at the after-hours clerk.

I’m sure we look like drowned rats—hair plastered from the snow, clothes wet, boots making squishy noises on the expensive floor.

“We’re so sorry, Miss Kincade,” the clerk repeats, as I stand where he stopped me to tell me the news.

“What seems to be the problem?” Hunter asks as he comes in behind me.

“It shouldn’t be more than an hour or two,” he explains as his eyes grow wide when he realizes who he’s speaking with. “I’m sorry, Mad Dog—er, Mr. Maddox. A pipe has leaked on Miss Kincade’s floor. The rooms are fine, but the hall is closed off so we can fix the problem quickly.”

“Then move her to a suite,” Hunter demands, and I should be miffed he’s speaking for me, but I’m too freaking cold to care.

“We’re completely booked. I don’t have any vacant—”

“You don’t have rooms set aside for emergencies like this? You don’t—”

“We do, but they’re all taken already. We can try to find and comp you a room at a neighboring hotel. Just give me a moment to—”

“It’s fine,” I say with a tight smile, on which I’m more than certain are blue lips.

“My room then,” he says.

“No, I can wait,” I stutter, more than cognizant of the unrequited sexual tension continuing to reverberate between us, even when we’re half frozen.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He rolls his eyes and puts his hand on my back to usher me to the elevator as the clerk stares at me, waiting for me to tell him anything more. “You can at least get out of these wet clothes so you can warm-up.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I say drolly and lift my eyebrows.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he mutters and then turns to the clerk. “She’ll be in my room.”

“How should we inform you so we don’t wake you up in case you’re asleep?” the clerk asks.

“Text her cell,” Hunter says as he gives him my number from memory that has me quite surprised. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and runs a hand up and down my arm.

“Please,” I finish for him when he doesn’t say it.

And without waiting for a response, Hunter directs us to the elevator. We’re in his room within minutes—top floor, great view of the city, but all I can think about when he closes the door behind us is getting warm.

He turns the heat on as high as it can go. I’m stuck in that dilemma between wanting to take my jacket and my wet clothes off and not being in my own room.

“Sooooo cold,” I say as I rock back and forth under a vent with my face tilted up and eyes closed.

I hear the click of something and then the sound of ringing. “Hi. Yes. This is room eight-oh-five. I want to order two hot chocolates, two grilled cheeses, um . . . and any dessert you have that’s hot.” He murmurs something. “I don’t care if the kitchen’s closed. Figure a way to get it made and I’ll make sure to tip accordingly.”

“Hunter—”

“No. It’s the least they can do after not having access to your room.” Then he turns back to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Yes, we’re one of those rooms . . . thank you so much for your help. I appreciate it.” He hangs the phone up. “It’ll be about thirty to forty minutes.”

“What are we going to do?” I ask with a chattering laugh as the heat stings my face. “Have a frozen picnic?” It does sound perfect though.

“Why not? Get out of your jacket,” Hunter says as I hear a zipper and then a thud as his falls to the floor.

He moves into my line of sight, and of course he didn’t just remove his jacket, but his shirt too. Him standing before me shirtless in all his chiseled ab perfection doesn’t do anything to help erase the kiss on my lips and his taste on my tongue from the park.

At least he’s sobered up now. There’s that.