Chapter 14 #2
“I’m afraid everyone along this stretch of the cape is booked solid. There are a number of events happening this week in the area.”
My brows jump at that. I can’t imagine all of these hotels without a single room available. “That’s all right. Your couch over there looks comfy. Or I can curl up on a deck chair.”
“Madam, we cannot allow—”
“I’m kidding, Javier.” I peek over at Julien. He’s furiously typing into his phone. At the angle he’s holding his device, I can tell he’s confirming that there are, in fact, no available hotel rooms along this strip of land. He looks up at me and shakes his head with a frown.
“If I may offer a suggestion?” Javier asks. “Many of the conference attendees are sharing rooms. Maybe the two of you . . . ?” He peters off at whatever look we’re giving him. “The room is a double,” he mutters under his breath to justify his suggestion.
I close my eyes and sigh in relief. That’s a consolation at least; two beds, not one.
With the way Evangeline and Hayley have been troped in real life lately, I was afraid someone thought it was my turn and this plot twist was just a writing device to get Julien and me to share a bed where we fall asleep on our own designated sides but wake up entangled in each other’s limbs.
If having dinner with me at a romantic restaurant made Julien uneasy, waking up with me accidentally spooning him will twist him up more than a Wetzel Pretzel.
Julien’s gaze meets mine, and I know he’s resigned himself to this solution without him even having to say a word.
It’s written all over his face in the quick downturn of his pressed lips before his features go blank and neutral.
“This is not ideal, but . . .” He sighs and shakes his head.
“If you’re uncomfortable with this arrangement, then we can find something on the other side of the causeway and commute.
” A pause stretches before he continues.
“However, I think the traffic may cause us some issues if we do that.”
Javier nods in agreement.
Julien turns to him with one last-ditch suggestion. “And the hotel’s policy on sleeping in one’s car?”
“The police are called.”
He nods like he figured that would be the answer.
Turning to me, he squares his jaw. His blue eyes have darkened, and his countenance has gone back to the serious businessman I haven’t seen since that first day I walked into his office.
“I know this is an HR nightmare, but I promise I will act with strict professionalism and will not cross any lines.”
I swallow back my reflexive response that, technically speaking, a male boss sharing a room with a female employee is already crossing a line.
But I know what he means, and I’m not worried.
Julien isn’t the type of guy to take advantage of a woman.
Will sharing a room with him be weird? Absolutely.
But I know I’m safe with him, and that in and of itself can’t be taken lightly nor for granted.
I shoulder-check him in a move that’s meant to convey hey, we’re friends and colleagues. No need to look so concerned. For added measure, I say, “No worries, boss man.”
As if I’m a spectator to myself, I hear my words and see my actions and immediately groan inwardly because, yes, I just very awkwardly overcompensated.
But you know what? This is going to be fine.
We aren’t sharing a bed, and we don’t have any other options.
Or at least any other good options. We have to pivot and adapt and make the best of the hand we have been dealt.
I look around again at the opulence of the lobby as Javier programs a second key card for me.
As far as hands that are dealt go, this one is a very nice one.
Royal flush level. I don’t know when the next time will be that I’ll get to stay in a five-star hotel with an ocean-view room and not have to pay a cent of the expenses.
Let’s focus on that and not the fact that I’ll be sharing said room with an extremely attractive man.
One that I may or may not be developing grown-up feelings for.
I spin on my heel as my eyes bug out at this new and intrusive thought.
Childhood crush. CHILD. HOOD. I can’t have real-time feelings for Julien.
That would be . . . Well, it would be very inconvenient, for starters.
Sleeping in the same room is going to be awkward enough as it is without adding in any attraction factor.
You know what? No. These aren’t new, mature feelings swirling around inside me. It’s just residual feeling memory (you know, like muscle memory but for your emotions) from a long time ago. My inner child is stepping up and having her way with my limbic system. That’s all it is.
That’s all it can be.
“Ready?” Julien hands the second key card to me, and I take it.
We roll our luggage over to the bank of elevators, where Julien taps on the up arrow. My gaze sweeps in front of me and—
“Oh my goodness gracious!”
“What? What is it?” Julien turns sharply, eyes alert for whatever caused my alarm.
The stainless-steel doors of the elevator reflect my image back to me. My hair is the embodiment of the Grinch’s heart after meeting Cindy Lou—both have grown three sizes. At least. If I’d taken a balloon and rubbed it all over my head, my hair wouldn’t stick out any more than it already is.
In vain, I try to smooth the frizz down, but the moisture-filled curls just blow right back up like a used-car-lot air dancer. “I look like Medusa.” Or Monica in that episode of Friends when they go to Barbados.
Julien’s shoulders relax, then begin to shake. “It’s not that bad,” he lies through his teeth.