Almost One Night Stand

Chapter 1

Haddie Martin knew she could have driven all the way to Summertown and shown up a day early, but she wasn’t ready yet.

She wasn’t ready to face her best friend, Emma, after quitting her current job, accepting a new one, burying the only living relative she knew, and leaving Chicago now that there was nothing and no one keeping her there.

For good? Maybe. The only items left in her studio apartment were a broken barstool and a futon that had certainly seen better days.

She didn’t know if this was the end for the city that had been home for most of her life.

All Haddie knew was that her mess of a life was jammed into the trunk of her car, and when you made a conscious decision to run from the only life you ever knew, even if it was a painful one, you didn’t simply face it hours later.

You waited until you were forced to unpack it—literally—in a new apartment in a new town where almost nobody knew your name.

Once upon a time, Haddie had life all figured out.

Keep everyone at arm’s length, and they’ll neither disappoint nor hurt you.

Simple enough. But even when you painted someone as the monster of your fairy tale, they still somehow crossed your moat of protection and entered the castle gates.

So now she was in search of a new castle, this one with higher gates and maybe even an unreachable tower where she would finally be safe.

But procrastination was key…along with the key card in her hand that she flipped over and over again as she tapped it on the hotel-lobby bar.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” a distinctly male voice said to her right.

Haddie looked up from the card and nonexistent drink in front of her to the woman behind the bar and then to—ahem…

make that, looked way up to—the tall, broad, dark-haired man poised next to the stool beside her.

She raised her brows. “I haven’t ordered yet.

” He shrugged, and it was only then that she realized he was wearing a tux.

“Order for both of us, then,” he told her, a grin playing at his lips. “May I?” He gestured toward the stool.

Haddie glanced over his shoulder to the ballroom beyond the lobby, from which she could hear “The Cha Cha Slide” booming even though the doors were closed.

“I don’t know,” she answered dryly. “Shouldn’t you be sliding to the left or maybe getting ready to clap your hands?”

He sighed. “I don’t see in the rule books where it says signing up for best man obligates you to line dancing—or any sort of dancing for that matter. And for the record, I didn’t even sign up for the gig. Apparently, this is a best-friend obligation you’re not allowed to say no to.”

Haddie winced but then did her best to paint back on her mask of indifference.

How many best-friend obligations was she violating by not even telling Emma that she left a day early but then chickened out halfway into her drive?

“Pretty sure they call that being voluntold,” she replied, attempting to lighten her own mood.

“Ha!” he said. “Great word. But the guy’s my oldest friend. So I accepted my fate. However, I draw the line when the disco ball starts spinning and the line dancers hit the floor.”

The bartender cleared her throat.

“Right,” the tall, tuxedoed stranger replied, then dipped his gaze to Haddie’s.

She pressed her lips together and thought for a moment, impressed that Mr. Tux had still not officially occupied the seat next to her.

The decision was hers whether or not he stayed, and it was him giving her that choice that made her say, “Two old-fashioneds. An extra cherry in mine, unless you don’t garnish with a cherry?

” She looked at the handsome stranger, and his eyes twinkled.

“Two cherries for me too,” Mr. Tux added, then finally took the seat next to her.

“Two old-fashioneds and four cherries coming up,” the bartender told them, then stepped away to make their drinks.

“A fan of cherries, are you?” Haddie asked him.

He shook his head. “No, but I’m a fan of a woman who likes her bourbon. The cherries are all yours. I’m—”

Haddie held up her hand, and he stopped before saying anything else.

“Look,” she started. “We both know what this is, so let’s not pretend it’s anything else.

” He seemed like a perfectly nice guy. Probably better than nice.

Hell, the groom behind those ballroom doors thought Mr. Tux was the best guy, which was all the more reason to leave names out of it.

Names equaled reality, and tonight reality was a far-off universe where her problems resided. Tonight was all about escape.

He raised a brow. “What is this, then?” He motioned between them, the man in the tux and the woman still wearing the simple black dress she had worn to her grandmother’s funeral earlier that day.

“Do you have a room?” she asked.

“You certainly do.” He nodded toward the card she still flipped between her fingers.

“You’re wedding party,” Haddie reminded him. “I bet you have a suite.”

He grinned, but then his brows furrowed. “You trust me? Just like that?”

This time Haddie shrugged. “There’s a banquet hall full of people who could probably vouch for you, but I don’t need to check with them.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you didn’t sit down until you got the signal that I was okay with it. And that, Mr. Tux—which is your name for the rest of the night—means that I am okay with a whole lot more.”

His dark-brown eyes crinkled at the corners, and good god, the man was attractive.

Had he been that handsome the whole time?

Maybe it was the tux. She didn’t care. Haddie had stopped outside of Summertown to prolong her escape, and this man who was about to give her his cherries seemed like the best escape she could possibly imagine.

“Two old-fashioneds, four cherries.” The bartender set down two cocktail napkins and then placed the drinks on top of them.

Mr. Tux immediately grabbed his skewered cherries and deposited them across the rim of Haddie’s glass.

“Charge it to Room 801,” Haddie’s stranger said.

“See? It’s a sign I chose well,” she told him. “801 is my birthday.”

His expression grew pensive for a moment, and then his eyes widened. “August first,” he said. “That’s—today.”

Haddie nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

He smiled sweetly. Almost too sweetly, enough that it made Haddie ache for the last birthday she could remember where she felt really and truly loved. She had been five.

Mr. Tux held up his glass. “To you, Birthday Girl. I hope you get everything you want this year.”

Haddie pressed her lips into a smile and held her glass up as well. “To me,” she agreed, and they each took a sip. Then she set her glass down and reached across the short distance between them, tugging at his already loosened bow tie. A real one, not a clip-on. He looked like James Bond.

“I know what I want tonight.” She untied the tie.

“Do you know how many tries it took me to get that right?” he teased, his voice soft and deep. Sexy. Yet the admission also added a hint of endearment to his words.

“I promise to help put it back on if you need to make a final appearance.” Haddie nodded toward the ballroom where Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family” now boomed.

He checked his watch, glanced over his shoulder and then back at her.

“I’m a dick if I don’t say goodbye before they run off on their honeymoon, aren’t I?”

The boyish sweetness to his tone now—the best friend not wanting to disappoint—was almost too much for her to take. He’d come out here for a drink and nothing else, and now he was considering disappointing his friend for her.

Haddie swirled the liquid in her glass. “How about this? We finish our drinks, and you head back inside for however long you need to. If I’m still here when you make your final exit, then this was meant to happen. If I’m not…” She shrugged. “Then I’m sorry about your tie.”

Mr. Tux swirled his own drink. Then he produced a key card from the inside pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

“I feel like this way I’ve got a better shot of you not disappearing. You can even raid the mini bar. Drinks…nuts… I think there might even be an eight-dollar Toblerone in there.”

He had her at Toblerone.

She slipped both key cards into her purse, slid off her chair, and decided that her old-fashioned was now a to-go beverage.

“I’m eating that Toblerone,” she told him.

“Call the front desk for a replacement and eat that one too,” he countered. “As long as it means you’ll be there when I get back.”

She ignored the little cartwheel in her stomach and took a step toward him, their eyes not quite level even with him still sitting.

“Can I…um…do a little pre-assessment to make sure this is a good idea?”

He grinned. “Like a test? I love tests. Straight-A student here.”

And without ruminating on how his charm was growing on her by the second, she simply brushed her lips against his, ready to step away just as quickly. But his hands cradled her cheeks and his lips lingered on hers, and dammit she couldn’t ignore those extra cartwheels.

“I’m only using you for your Toblerones,” she whispered against him, finding it hard to catch her breath.

“Happy to be used,” he whispered back, and Haddie swore he sounded just as out of breath as she did. “Wait for me,” he added. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

I’ll wait twenty hours if what comes after the kiss is even half as good.

But she didn’t say that. “I can’t promise you anything,” she replied instead. Because that, at least, was the truth. “Other than—”

“Eating my Toblerone,” Mr. Tux interrupted. “I know, Birthday Girl. See you soon.”

***

Holy wow. When Haddie assumed Mr. Tux had a suite, she did not expect a shower and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom. Her room had a shower/tub combo, but her five-foot, seven-inch frame would have to sit in the fetal position in order to fit. But this tub…