Chapter 8 #2
My hand is on Gigi’s upper arm, and I give it a gentle squeeze, pulling her closer so I can whisper in her ear. “We are going to be stabbed to death in our shower.”
Her shoulder rises, and she exhales a little noise before smiling at the skinny Norman-Bates lookalike. “Do you need a credit card?”
“Yes, please, and an ID if you don’t mind.”
I hand over my credit card, and after taking all our information, Ned leads us down the row of doors to one that’s labeled twenty-one.
“Lucky number.” He smiles, stopping and turning to us.
“Really?” Gina’s eyes are wide. “How so?”
“Twenty-one is when all the fun begins.” He pauses a beat, then tilts his head, “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“You’re not twenty-one?” Surprise is in her tone.
“I’m twenty-two actually.” That’s all the explanation we get. “Here’s your key. I know it’s old-fashioned to have metal keys, but we like hanging onto some of the old ways.”
My hand is still on Gigi’s arm, and I squeeze it tighter.
“Thank you, Ned.” Her voice is strangled, and as soon as we get inside and close the door, she bursts out laughing. “He’s got to be doing it on purpose. There’s no way he really says those things for real.”
“I don’t know.” I lean closer to the window, sliding the curtain back with my finger and watching him walk back to the office. “All I know is that door’s staying locked, and if he invites us for milk and sandwiches, run.”
Gigi goes to the picture on the wall and attempts to take it down. “Doesn’t move. I guess that’s a good thing?”
“I showered after practice, so I’m good for tonight.”
“I showered this morning, so I’m good.”
Turning, we look around the very plain, very small room. It seems clean, no weird smells, and the air conditioner at the window drones steadily, creating a nice white noise.
“This might be a problem.” Gigi nods at the one bed, which is smaller than a queen-size.
I look around the room to see it only has a desk, a chair, an armoire, a tiny sofa… loveseat?
“What do you think? Should I sleep on the floor?”
“No way!” She shakes her head frowning. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor when you’re in this whole situation because of me.”
“What are you saying then? Bathtub?”
“Owen.” She makes a face like I’m being ridiculous. “We’re both adults. We can sleep in the same bed for one night.”
She walks over to put her bags in the corner beside the desk, then she slides the long coat off her shoulders and drapes it over the chair. My eyes glide down the length of her ponytail to where it ends between her shoulder blades, drifting lower to her perky butt in those black pants.
I remember the sight of that butt peeking out at me from beneath her shirt the other night, and heat rushes to my cock.
“Don’t you agree?” She turns to face me, and I clear my throat, walking over to put my wallet and keys on the bedside table.
“Sure.” I nod, wanting to agree, while I’m not entirely sure.
C’mon, of course we can. We’re adults, not teenagers.
I’m a dad. I can share a bed with an attractive woman for one night and keep my hands to myself. Probably…
That said, she’s beautiful, it’s been years, and I’m not dead yet.
I give it a solid maybe.
“Should I order us some food?” Good distraction. I pull out my phone, opening the food delivery app. “Looks like we can get tacos, pizza, gyros…”
“Do they have chicken shawarma? I’d like that and hummus.” She walks over to dig in her bag. “I wish I had something better to wear besides this outfit.”
“Hang on.” I lift my duffel from where I left it by the door. “I just came from practice, so I’ve got…” I shove the plastic laundry bag holding my sweaty clothes to the side. “A T-shirt and an extra pair of boxer briefs.”
I hold up the maroon underwear and the oversized white tee.
Her eyes light, and she skips over to where I am. “Are they clean?”
“I wouldn’t offer if they weren’t.”
“They’re perfect. Thanks!” She swipes them out of my hands and disappears into the bathroom.
I order our food and look around the room. There’s no mini-bar or fridge, but at least there’s a very basic coffee pot. I hear the bathroom door open, and when I look up, my stomach dips.
Her hair is still in that long ponytail. My T-shirt and shorts hang loose on her slim body, and her face is washed, no frills.
She’s the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.
I can’t get over how she makes my old T-shirt and boxer briefs look so good. I can’t believe I gave them to her. Now she’s like a walking temptation I’m supposed to share a bed with and not touch.
“Food should be here any minute.” I try to clear my head, looking around the room to assess our options. “We could share the desk… but there’s only one chair. That sofa is really small.”
“We could have a picnic on the floor?” She steps into the bathroom again and comes back with a towel that’s seen better days. “This can be our blanket.”
I take the thin towel from her and spread it over the carpet. “Here.” Holding out a hand, I help her sit, even if she doesn’t really need it.
I’m about to sit across from her when a sharp knock at the door makes her yelp. She grips my arm, and I step over to look through the peephole.
“Food’s here.”
“Oh my gosh,” she sighs, putting a hand on her chest. “I thought it was Ned with a knife.”
I open the door and grab the paper bag, then I lock us in again, double-checking in case the young manager decides to come back dressed as Mother.
We ordered the same thing, only I got steak instead of chicken. Coke for me, iced tea for Gina, and we’re digging in like it’s our first meal of the day.
All the skating I did this afternoon has me ravenous, and for a few minutes, we quietly wolf down our food. When I finally come up for air, she’s leaning against the bed, touching her lips with a paper napkin.
I straighten, doing the same. “How’d the dog show go?”
“Same as always.” She takes a sip of tea. “I walk around the dogs, lift their ears, check their teeth, check their nuts.”
I almost shoot Coke through my nose. “Their nuts?”
“They have to be fully intact.” She nods, and I glance at her hands, which she holds up, turning side to side. “Don’t worry, I washed them.”
“Who was the winner?”
“An Afghan Borzoi named Some Like it Hot Hazel.” She stabs a piece of chicken, putting it into her mouth. “I’ve worked with Haze before, and she deserved it. She’s absolutely stunning. Long, golden fur like pure silk. A perfect example of the breed.”
She looks up at the window like she’s picturing the dog right now, and I think I wouldn’t mind watching Miss Gina Bradford judge a dog show.
“So you’ve been into dogs your whole life?”
Her nose wrinkles, and she nods. “Pretty much. Were you into hockey all your life?”
“Nah, I didn’t even know what hockey was when I was a kid.”
We’ve put our food containers aside, and now I’m leaning beside her against the bed. Gina has her hand on her stomach, looking up at me.
“Oh, that’s right! You wanted to be a baseball player.”
I shake my head. “When I was a little boy, I wanted to be a sheriff just like my dad.” She makes an aw sound, and I nod. “I thought my dad was the greatest guy in the world.”
“Thought?” Her eyebrow arches.
“Sorry, think. He’s still the greatest guy in the world. I just meant, that’s how it was, just me and him.” I tilt the plastic bottle in my hand, remembering those days. “Then my stepmom Britt came along, and she taught me card tricks and magic, and he got really pissed.”
“Why?” Her eyes widen.
“After my mom died, he stopped believing in magic… and pretty much anything requiring faith.”
Her chin drops, and she circles a piece of grilled chicken in the bowl of hummus. “Is that how you feel?”
Her voice is quiet, and I think about the question.
“Sort of… but in a different way.” I scrub my fingers over my forehead, remembering all the times I blamed myself for what happened, for not noticing more. “I’m more in the realm of, you can never be too sure.”
“Tell me about it.” She sniffs, lifting her chin.
“What happened to you?” Then I realize how the question sounded, and I laugh. “I mean, who shook your faith?”
“I don’t know if that’s a fair way to say it.” She hesitates, looking down at the plate in her lap. “Maybe I misinterpreted the situation, read more into it than was there.”
“What did he do?” I realize an edge of anger has entered my tone.
I’m ready to find the dickhead who damaged her trust and… force him to apologize.
“It’s kind of embarrassing.” She puts her food container in the paper bag, turning away from me.
I reach out to put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t judge.”
She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip. After a momentary hesitation, she relents.
“When I first moved to LA from Newhope, I tried dating a few guys. They were all nice enough, but it seemed like once we slept together, they were ready to move on.”
“Jerks,” I mutter.
Her slim brow furrows, and she nods slowly. “So when I started dating Baxter, I decided not to sleep with him right away. Like I thought we should get to know each other better first.”
“Sounds smart.”
“So I set a number of dates I thought would give us the right amount of time…”
“A number?”
Bending her legs, she leans forward to put her forehead on her knees. “Stop, I realize now how I set myself up for it.”
“What was the number?”
“Six.”
“Six?” Wow. I lean back against the small sofa across from her, sipping my Coke and nodding. “What’s so special about that number?”
“I don’t know. It felt like a good, round number.” She squirms, and I do my best to maintain my no-judgment vibe.
“Okay…”
“I figured we’d go on a date a week, and if six weeks isn’t long enough… I mean, that’s almost two months!”
“It is.” I nod.
“But he doubled up.”
“Doubled?”
“More like tripled,” she huffs. “He took me to art openings, outdoor concerts, picnics…”
“Picnics are free.”
“Then when we got to six, he was very…” She leans against the bed again, squeezing her hands on the top of her knees. “So I slept with him. And I never heard from him again.”
“Hmm…” It’s a low growl in my throat, and now I really want to find this guy.
Gina’s shoulders rise, and she covers her face with her hands. “I know—I did it to myself, whereas if I’d just put out on the first or second date, I could’ve saved myself all that time and effort and embarrassment.”
“You don’t really think that’s the right answer, do you?”
She shakes her head, dropping her hands and looking down. “I don’t know. Maybe I do? Maybe I’m just not—”
“Hey.” Leaning forward, I catch her chin in my thumb and forefinger. “Look at me, Gina.”
She stills, blinking those pretty green eyes up at me. The scent of cherries drifts around us, and all I can think of is how again, I want to kiss her so badly.
Only this time, I don’t want to stop at her lips.
“You are so much more than you know. Any guy who can’t see that is a fucking asshole.”