Chapter 14
Andi
Despite my best efforts to claim it’s too late to change the room booking, Gretchen wasn’t having it. That’s how Nolan and I find ourselves in a room with one queen-size bed.
My shoulders dip and I’m unsure where to even sit.
The bed feels a little too intimate. “It is very small.” Compared to Eric and Gretchen’s suite of soaring wooden beams and massive windows, boasting panoramic views of the mountains.
A silence falls between us as we quietly unpack our belongings.
“Mind if I take the top drawers and this side of the closet?”
“Yeah, take whatever you need,” he says, unconcerned as he takes his jacket off, revealing a white dress shirt.
I stop folding my clothes to work down the lump lodged in my throat. Is it just me, or did he get even broader in the past three years? The sleeves of that shirt are doing some serious overtime over his biceps. “Hey, I just wanted to say, I really tried to avoid this whole sharing-a-room thing.”
“I know you did. It’s really fine. It’s only two nights. I’ll sleep on the couch—” He pauses to survey the space, only now realizing there is no pull-out couch, just a single desk chair, which is not conducive to sleeping unless you’re the approximate length of an infant. Great. “The floor.”
“No! I’ll take the floor,” I insist, cringing at the thought of him not getting a good night’s rest. For the PM’s bodyguard, being well rested is a necessity on the job. Besides, my conscience can’t handle some tragic incident occurring because he wasn’t on his game due to floor-induced back pain.
He swings me a look as he tucks his suitcase in the closet. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, Andi. It’s fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”
“It just feels wrong, since I got you into this whole mess,” I add as a condolence.
“And like I said, I really don’t mind.”
I don’t have the energy to put up much of a fight, because what’s the alternative?
As a romance writer, I’m familiar with scenarios involving shared rooms with Only One Bed.
In fact, I’ve written many of them myself.
They usually go as follows: One or both parties decide they won’t allow the other person to sleep on the floor.
They invite the other to share out of the goodness of their heart (not because they’re horny or anything).
Inevitably, they wake up the next morning locked in a full embrace.
There’s usually an involuntary boner or two, and maybe a sexy dream thrown in the mix.
In reality, there will be no boners and definitely no cuddling. I’m making sure of that.
“I hate to ditch you right away, but I’m due upstairs to brief the team about emergency procedures,” he informs, peering at his phone.
I straighten my spine, trying to hide my disappointment. I’d hoped we could talk it all out ASAP. But duty calls. “Right, of course. I actually have some stuff I need to work on for Gretchen, too.”
He lingers by the door as he puts his jacket back on. “We need to talk about this, though. I’ll be free later tonight. Probably around nine thirty. Late dinner?”
I watch him for a beat. His expression is sincere, earnest. “Sure. I’ll make a reservation. Again, I’m sorry about all of this. If you have a girlfriend or wife or something, this is really inappropriate—”
“Andi?”
“Mm-hm?”
“Stop apologizing. Right now,” he says, halfway out the door.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Right. Force of habit.”
“One last thing,” he adds, poking his head back in. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a wife. I’m still very single. By choice.”