Chapter Fourteen Hayden
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HAYDEN
I had to hand it to Charlotte. She charmed her way into finding out what room Christian and Penny were in. They had been given a suite on the third floor at the very end of the hall. Of course, it wasn’t a convenient location near the lobby, where we could hang out on chairs and wait for what… some woman to arrive?
“I am not judging. I would never. However, I have no idea what we’re looking for. We can’t just ask every woman who is on this floor what they are doing.” Charlotte chewed on a hangnail on her thumb, her attention darting down the third-floor hallway and to the elevator. It was 10:00 p.m., so most guests were heading in for the night.
“Can we ask if they are going to room 300 or not?” I slid down the wall, resting my arms across my knees. There was a break between rooms right in the middle, where the ice and vending machines were plugged in. The little nook was perfect for sleuthing but not exactly comfortable. “Why are we friends with Garrett? I need reminding.”
Charlotte joined me in leaning against the wall. She left six inches between us, which was for the best, but I wanted her against me. My fingers still buzzed from touching her skin. It might’ve crossed a line, but my finger almost did it involuntarily, and then I couldn’t stop. She was so soft and warm. So mine , my brain finished. Even if it wasn’t true, it felt that way.
“He’s a good human most of the time. It’s the fifteen percent rascal in him that gets in the way.” She leaned her head against the wall and yawned. “I’m also tired. The igloo seems like ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago, you had braces and made Christian and me watch and score your dances with what was her name… Delsey, that’s right.” I smiled at the memory. “Which was totally normal for a fourteen-year-old. Asking me for beer was not.”
“What’s the point of having an older sibling if they don’t sneak you the good stuff? Delsey and I got into some trouble after Christian and you went to college.” She released a small chuckle, almost like a sigh. “It’s strange and cool that we have so many memories together.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, her words feeling heavier than face value. “So, about Garrett. Can we ice him out of the group?”
“Nah. He’s generally harmless. Plus he’s gonna meet someone one day, and they are gonna kick his ass. I need to stick around until I see that happen.” Charlotte stretched her legs out and groaned. “If we don’t do something, I’m going to fall asleep. Should I go grab my laptop so we can work on the wedding playlist for our DJ debut?”
“Great idea. I can keep an eye out.”
“I feel like you’d be better at trying to stop a stripper than me? She’d be nicer to you. Just smile at her and be kind about it.” Charlotte stood, and I tried, and failed, not to stare at her glutes and the way her jeans hugged her thighs. They were made for her strong body, and her thighs were a foot from my face. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
I used the few minutes of alone time to text my mom. She was a night owl and confirmed that Gwen went down without a fight. My baby girl’s latest thing was to stay up until ten, asking no less than one hundred questions a night.
Can I have a pool party?
Can I have a bubble machine?
Does Santa poop?
Endless questions. I needed to start writing them down and creating a book to embarrass her when she got older. A buddy of mine suggested starting an email to write a message to send to her once she’s a teenager. Is that when kids needed emails nowadays? I didn’t know. I did know I wasn’t going to let her create a dumbass email address like I did.
That shit followed me around for years.
The elevator pinged, and I bolted up, my pulse racing as I prepared to say something. Stopping a stripper in an effort to save a wedding wasn’t something I had ever done before. This was new territory. Should I say please and thank you? Fuck. I scrubbed a hand over my face as soft laughter hit me.
Charlotte had returned.
“I take back what I said. You shouldn’t be the one to stop her.” She grinned like we shared an inside joke. “You look torn between constipation and murder.”
“I do not,” I replied hotly. “You’re teasing me.”
“No.” Her grin grew as she ran a finger over my forehead. “Your face is so damn serious. There’s a reason you’re a good coach that has something to do with your character and all that, blah blah, but you also look scary as hell.”
“I’m not scary.”
“Hop, you have a very intimidating stance and face when you don’t smile. Either wear the glasses because you look good”—her voice dropped lower—“or smile.” She held up her laptop and cringed. “We can see if there are already solid playlists to steal and edit?”
“I like your thinking.”
She sat back down next to me, crisscrossing her legs so her knee touched my thigh. She logged in, and I admired the stickers all over her device. It was such a Char move to have stickers of Schitt’s Creek , The Office , and Abbott Elementary . She also had a What We Do in the Shadows sticker right in the center. I had zero clue what that even was, and I had the urge to ask her a thousand questions. I wanted to learn about this version of Charlotte.
Once she fired up Spotify, she pulled a hair tie off her wrist and put her hair up. There was nothing inherently sexy about the gesture, but a few curls escaped, and her bare neck was exposed. She would always be sexy to me. End of story.
“Okay, I found a playlist called Christmas Wedding Reception. It has the classics. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong with ‘Cheek to Cheek’ and ‘O Tannenbaum.’ But I don’t… These are perfect for background music.”
“Hm. Christian and Penny don’t strike me as background people.” Christian self-described as a maniac and an epic dancer. The one year I went clubbing with him, he would be on the floor for hours. “As much as I wish we could copy another one, they will want people on the dance floor.”
“I agree with you. We need some ‘Last Christmas’ and ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’ Hell, Christian learned dances from NSYNC when they were big. He’d never admit it, but he’d blast NSYNC’s ‘Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays’ without shame.” She hummed and snapped her fingers. “We need a DJ name. It’d help inspire me. Rowdy Rudolph? Simpin’ Santas? DJ Mistletoe?”
“Mistletoe Mixmaster,” I said, quite proud of myself. “That can also be the title of the playlist. Titles matter.”
“Oh, I love it.” She smiled as she started a new playlist and typed in our title. “I’m gonna email the link to you so you can add to it too. Okay, best Christmas dancing songs?” she said.
I typed the question into Google. “Here’s a starting point.”
· “All I Want for Christmas Is You” —Mariah Carey
· “Last Christmas” —Wham!
· “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” —Brenda Lee
· “Feliz Navidad” —José Feliciano
· “Jingle Bell Rock” —Bobby Helms
· “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” —Bruce Springsteen
· “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” —Darlene Love
· “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” —Andy Williams
· “Step Into Christmas” —Elton John
· “Wonderful Christmastime” —Paul McCartney
· “Jingle Bells” —James Lord Pierpont (various renditions)
· “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!” —Dean Martin
I tilted my phone toward her, but she leaned closer toward me to see. The movement put her face even closer to mine. I could see the two freckles on her cheek, the mole right beneath her eye, and the bruise.
Shit. Maybe it was the dim hallway light, but the bruise on her forehead was a deep purple now. “Char,” I hissed. Using my other hand, I traced the bruise. “This looks pretty bad.”
She winced but nodded. “It throbs.”
I let my touch linger on her skin, gently outlining the bruise, and without meaning to, I continued the movement down her jaw. Her skin was so soft, and I loved how she let out a little hum and closed her eyes. She leaned into my touch, sighing in what I assumed was contentment as I stared at her lips.
My whole body tensed with desire. Attraction and lust weren’t common for me. I didn’t date, and it had been months since I’d been with a woman, but fuck, Charlotte was beautiful. Continuing my gentle caress of her face, I traced my thumb over her bottom lip and fought the urge to groan. Her mouth was so plump.
“Hey.” Jesus. My voice had come out all raspy and deep. I tilted her chin up to look at me, and she took her time opening her eyes. When she did, I was done for. Her large brown eyes and lush black lashes stole my thoughts. The words I had planned to say disappeared. All I could think was Kiss her .
Her mouth parted, and the pulse at the base of her neck raced against my finger. She licked her lips and leaned closer. My skin buzzed as my stomach tripped over itself. I dipped my head. I couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted more.
“Char,” I whispered, our breaths intermixing with only an inch between us. I needed her to say yes to this. To grant me permission. To be aware that this kiss would change the status quo of everything.
Ding.
Charlotte jumped back so hard that she smacked the back of her head on the wall. “Shit!” She set her laptop down and rubbed her head. “That hurt.”
Fuck. I ran a finger over my eyebrow, my body feeling a thousand pounds. Did she need to jump that far away with that much effort? “You alright?” I asked, my voice giving away my frustration. We were so close to kissing.
Stupid elevator.
“Hayden,” she whispered, hitting me in the side. Her tone had shifted. It was serious. “This has to be her.”
A beautiful woman with long brown hair and a red trench coat strutted from the elevator with an intense expression. She meant business. She scanned the hallway, nodding at an exit before she spotted us. A candy cane swung from her fingers.
She narrowed her gaze on us.
“Hi,” Charlotte said, standing. “Any chance you’re heading to room 300?”
“Maybe,” the woman said, her voice sultry. She pursed her lips and stared down the hall, toward room 300. “But if I were, why do you ask?”
“We’re here to stop you. If we have to beg, we will.” Charlotte smiled but it was awkward.
“Stop me?” She tilted her head. “Do you have something against a sing-a-gram?”
“I’m sorry. What?” Charlotte twisted her hands together, shifting her weight left and right. “A sing-a-gram? You’re here to sing ?”
“Yes.” The woman laughed. “I was hired to go to room 300 and sing three carols to a Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun. I take it you are not them.”
Charlotte blinked, her eyes wide as she repeated the same words. “To sing, for them? Not… wow. Okay. A sing-a-gram.”
The woman looked at me, amused.
“Char, hon, we should let her carry on with her sing-a-gram. Penny and Christian would love this.” I nodded toward their door. “We’re leaving now. Excuse us.”
“Wait. I can’t believe Garrett did this. I thought you were—”
“Coming in the morning,” I blurted out. Charlotte did not need to share our first thoughts about this. If I weren’t already secretly in love with Charlotte, I would be now. She was horribly awkward and trying so hard not to be. It was fucking adorable, and I reached over, squeezing her shoulder.
“Some people prefer late visits. Now, excuse me, I’m going to go sing.”
“Let’s go, Char,” I said softly, placing my hand on her back and guiding her toward the elevator. I picked up her laptop with my other hand. “Let’s let her do her thing.”
“A sing-a-gram.” She shook her head, laughing. “I almost called her a stripper!”
I chuckled as we entered the elevator. A beautiful voice carried down the hallway, the stunning woman definitely singing as Christian and Penny stood in the doorway.
What a trip.
I pressed the button to head to our rooms. Charlotte looked up at me, the red spots returning to her cheeks. “I feel silly that we spent all night guarding against a singer. You could’ve been doing other fun things.”
“I’m doing exactly what I want to right now, Charlotte.”
“Oh.”
Maybe it was the mirrors on every side, but the elevator felt small. I saw a dozen versions of Charlotte, all equally gorgeous. I met her gaze in one of the reflections and went to war with myself.
Kiss her. Don’t kiss her.
Do it. Ignore the pull toward her. Deal with the consequences later.
The air felt heavy around us, the scents of cinnamon and her vanilla perfume surrounding me. We just stared, neither saying anything as we arrived on the first floor. It had been years since I had a first date, and this felt like one. The twisting of my stomach and the sweat on my palms felt so strange. My mouth dried up as we walked toward our doors at the end of the hallway.
“Uh, so,” she said, her voice husky. She fidgeted with her phone as we faced each other outside her room. That’s when I noticed something I hadn’t before. There was a mistletoe above her door.
Kiss her. Just do it.
“Charlotte.” I bent down and set her laptop on the ground before nearing her. My heart fucking pounded like I had sprinted from center field to home plate. Placing one hand on the door behind her, I cupped her face with my other. Her chest heaved, and her lips parted as her gaze moved toward my mouth. “Do you still want to be kissed under the mistletoe?”