2. Maddy
2
MADDY
I tried to grab for the sliding bedspread, but it slithered out of reach, so instead I yanked up the bodice of my halter-top bridesmaid dress, clutching it to my boobs like armor.
On the plus side, the annoyingly hot man in my hotel room most likely wasn’t a serial killer. I didn’t know James all that well yet, but I was almost completely sure his best friend wouldn’t be a serial killer. No, he was just a garden variety asshole wedding guest. He was probably the kind of guy who thought it was really cool and edgy to be cynical at weddings. He probably spent the whole reception standing in the corner, and saying broody mysterious things like, “Love is the exception, not the rule” and “I’m married to my job” only for it to be revealed that his job was something lame like an insurance salesmen or mailman.
Still, serial killer or not, I didn’t want him creeping in my room. I grabbed my other shoe and held it up menacingly.
“Why were you watching me undress?”
“Technically I was watching you fail to undress.”
I threw the other shoe.
Noah crossed the room in two strides and caught my wrist before I could reach for something else.
“That’s enough,” he said sternly. It probably should have been scary, or at least insulting, but the truth was it was a little bit hot.
He was just so strong.
“Clearly there’s been an error with the reservations,” he said, all arrogant and commanding. “We both need to go down to the front desk so you can be reassigned.”
I jerked my wrist out of his grasp, annoyed at his presumption. “Why me? My stuff is all unpacked and all you have is that stupid little carryon. You need a new room.”
His jaw flexed. “Nothing is going to get accomplished while you’re half-dressed. Finish getting changed and meet me in the hallway. That is, unless you need help?”
He gestured toward the dress.
“The zipper is broken,” I huffed out.
“Do you… want me to rip it off you?” he offered.
“ Absolutely not.”
He shrugged and turned on his heel. “I’ll be waiting outside.”
When the door clicked closed behind him, I strode across the room and slid the bolt lock.
For a wicked second, I contemplated just leaving the door locked and going about my night. On the way back to the hotel, I’d been fantasizing about a hot bath and some solid sleep in the massive, gorgeous bed that looked as soft as a cloud.
But locking Noah out wasn’t fair, no matter how rude he was.
I muttered a curse as I finally managed to wrench the dress down my body, wincing as I heard it tear.
My night was taking an incredibly crappy turn. Why did I have a feeling freaking Noah was somehow going to manage to kick me out of my room? Even in our brief interaction I could tell he was the kind of person who got whatever he wanted. He had that air about him, like he could snap his fingers and make things happen.
I supposed when you looked like that it makes sense. Even pissed and half-naked, I’d clocked his tall, dark, and handsome vibe wrapped up in a suit that could probably pay my rent for a year.
I slid on a wrinkled button-down, black leggings, and flip-flops then peeked in the mirror. My hair was still in the ridiculous updo from the wedding, and my make-up was way heavier than I usually wore. I looked like a beauty queen slumming it.
Oh well. I was sure the front desk person had seen worse.
I grabbed my hotel key card to prove this was my freaking room, and stepped out into the hall, expecting to find Noah lying in wait, scheming up ways to snag the room out from under me.
Instead, Noah was leaning against the wall across from my door. The guy actually had his eyes shut and he looked like he was asleep standing up. For the first time I noticed that, as handsome as he was, there were shadows under his eyes, and dark stubble along his jaw, like maybe he’d been in a rush this morning.
“Ready?” I asked.
He jerked awake and immediately frowned. Like he didn’t want the world to catch him looking anything other than stern and cranky. He started walking toward the elevator, moving fast enough I had to jog to keep up.
“Long night?” I snarked.
“Long year,” he said, gruffly.
I felt a twinge of sympathy, but stomped it down. I’d had a long year too. I’d taken a crappy assistant job at a small newspaper because my boss had promised in the interview that eventually he’d let me write something. But “eventually” kept stretching farther and farther into the future. It was only this past week that he’d finally agreed to let me email him a pitch for a story. So yeah, we all had problems. But my problems didn’t have me accusing anyone of being a prostitute.
We stopped in front of the elevator. I hit the button, trying to ignore the gravitational pull of the man at my side.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he asked, breaking the silence.
He stuck his hand out and I stared at it for a beat.
“Maddy Malone.” I finally reached out to shake his hand.
I scanned him quickly, trying to get a better read on what I was up against. Okay, yes, he was handsome. Really handsome in a smoldering, evil prince, perfectly chiseled face kind of way. I could see a few stands of gray near his temples, and he had faint smile wrinkles around his eyes, although he didn’t seem like the smiling type. I wasn’t great at guessing ages, but he looked to be at least ten-plus years older than me. He probably thought I was a child he could boss around.
He was in for a rude awaking. My ex-boyfriend Becket had used up all my patience for entitled jerks. These days I was more of a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of woman.
At least that was what I was aiming for. Even if sometimes I had to pump myself with Beyonce before a confrontation.
Neither Noah nor I said a word all the way down to the lobby.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, we took off to the front desk. Was it my imagination or was Noah trying to beat me there?
I picked my pace.
He threw me an incredulous look, then sped up too.
By the time we got to the front desk—me a hairsbreadth ahead of Noah—we looked completely unhinged.
“Hello,” the man behind the desk said. “How can I help you this evening?”
I started speaking before Noah could. “I’m in room 302 and this man was accidentally double-booked into it. He needs a new room.”
Next to me, Noah ground his teeth, probably pissed I beat him to the story.
“I see, let me check on that.” The hotel employee started clicking away on the computer.
“We’re both here with the Morris-Thorn wedding,” Noah added. “My assistant made my reservation months ago.”
I hugged closer to the desk. “And I was in the wedding party, so the bride actually made my reservation. Like, last year.”
Ha! Your move, Parker . I raised my chin, triumphant.
The corner of Noah’s mouth twitched in something that might have been a smile.
But then it vanished and he returned his intimidating focus to the desk clerk, who kept tapping away on the computer like he was writing a novel. When he finally looked up at us, he was wearing a strained looking customer service smile that made me nervous.
“It seems that there was a mix-up with your rooms, and you were both booked into 302.”
“Yes, which is exactly what she just said,” Noah said, barely hiding his impatience. “How do we fix this?”
The clerk’s customer service smile tightened even further. “Unfortunately, we’re at capacity. We have no additional rooms to offer.”
Noah and I stared at the man in horror.
“Do you have a VIP suite? A presidential suite?” Noah demanded. “Money is no object.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was one of those guys.
“Well, the bride and groom are in our presidential suite,” the clerk said.
Noah had the grace to look sheepish.
“Is there another hotel close by?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing in the immediate vicinity, but I’d be happy to call around. Perhaps there’s a roadside option a little farther out? One of you would have to make the decision to leave.” He held his breath, waiting for our reaction.
I tried not to laugh at the idea of Noah with his perfectly tailored suit and expensive bag checking into a kitschy motel full of coin-operated vibrating beds and drunk college kids on vacation.
Then I sobered. There was no way I was repacking all of my stuff at this hour.
I glanced at Noah and could see that he was barely holding it together. The guy was pissed . I waited for him to explode on the hotel clerk. My ex definitely would have.
But all he did was close his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose, and sigh deeply.
Yes, he was a jerk. But he wasn’t taking it out on someone with less power than him. And he was James’s friend.
I decided to put him out of his misery.
“Do you have a cot?” I asked the clerk.
“Yes, we should have a few spares.”
I turned to Noah. “We could share the room and you could sleep on the cot. It’s one night, it’ll be fine.”
He looked up, surprised. Then he pursed his lips. “$1,000 if you let me have the bed.”
I threw up my hands. “I am letting a strange man I don’t know stay in my hotel room. After he called me a hooker. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I’m offering the cot as an option?”
The clerk inhaled sharply.
Noah’s lips pressed together. Then he reached into his breast pocket, took out a thin wallet, and turned to the clerk. “We’ll take the cot. Please remove Miss Malone’s card from the room and charge it to me.” He threw a black credit card down that actually made a thunk when it hit the counter.
“You don’t have to do that?—”
“It’s nothing,” he said with a dismissive flick of his hand.
“I appreciate your understanding,” the clerk said in a relieved voice. “I’ll, uh, have a cot sent up to you shortly. We definitely have one. I think.” He hastily disappeared into a back room.
I exchanged a nonplussed look with Noah.
He scratched the back of his neck. “I do apologize for the hooker comment.”
“Let’s stop talking and go upstairs.” I turned on my heel and headed toward the elevator.
He caught up to me in one easy stride. “If it makes it any better, I thought you were a very expensive, classy hooker. The kind you’d think was an accountant or a librarian and then, surprise, she’s a hooker.”
“Oh my God, please stop talking,” I said. “Or I’m going to charge you $1,000 for using the cot.”
That surprised a sharp laugh out of him.
But he covered it up quickly.
We stepped into the elevator.
“Thank you for finding a solution,” Noah said, his voice quiet and deep in the enclosed space. “I appreciate it.”
I eased toward the elevator wall, wishing I wasn’t so aware of his body. His presence. The way he just took up space.
“That’s sort of my specialty,” I said as I pressed button for our floor. “I’m a fixer. Like tonight, one of the other bridesmaid’s straps snapped right as we were about to walk down the aisle. Guess who had an emergency safety pin on the inside of her skirt?”
Noah glanced at me speculatively. “Hmm. Is that what you do for work too?”
“No,” I said. “I’m a reporter. Well, I will be. I pitched a story, and I’m sure that my boss is going to give me the green light on Monday.”
His face looked unreadable. “Hope that works out for you.”
Wait, was that a genuine nice comment? Or some sort of veiled insult?
Whatever. I didn’t care what he thought.
I moved closer to the mirror to wipe away some mascara that had collected under my eye, and when I finished I realized Noah was watching me. I looked away first.
“Anyway, I hope you don’t snore or anything,” I said, briskly. “I’m a light sleeper. Oh, and I read before bed, but I always have a booklight with me, so hopefully I won’t keep you up. And we can put the cot closer to the door so you won’t even see the light. I do get up once a night so we should probably make sure that you’re not blocking the bathroom.” I frowned as I tried to visualize where we could put the cot that wouldn’t be in the way and realized that Noah was watching me in the mirror, amused.
“You talk a lot,” he said. “I’m surprised you manage to sleep at all.”
I felt a blush creep to my cheeks at being called out. “Kaitlyn says my mouth moves a mile a minute.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. As long as you don’t talk in your sleep too.”
“No complaints yet!” I said, then cringed when the implication hit me.
When I peeked at him in the reflection I realized that the grump was actually grinning.