Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
JULY
MADIGAN
The annual Book Collector’s Fair was one of the best book events in New Zealand.
Accommodation close to the venue had been in short supply, which had, according to Nick, necessitated a little flexibility around my preferred booking arrangements.
In other words, Nick had booked us into one of the less salubrious accommodation options and was floundering to cover his arse, which, as pretty as it was, had found itself swimming in deep doo-doo.
To be fair, I should never have assigned the accommodation decision to Nick in the first place, considering how anal I was about that kind of thing. But I was trying really hard to get on board with the whole together/partnership idea and loosen up a little.
Epic fail. Lesson learned.
So what if I liked a bit of comfort? It wasn’t a crime.
I could be looser around other things, right?
In my defence, I hadn’t said a word about his debatable choice even after I’d secretly googled it online and noted the two-and-a-half-star rating with something close to abject horror.
A lesser man might’ve raised the issue with their partner right then and there.
Maybe offered to look for an alternative.
Instead, I’d ignored the temptation to interfere and told myself that the place would likely look better in person.
It didn’t.
What it did look like was tired, dated, and barely hygienic.
Receiving the key—yes, key, not card; the place looked untouched since the ’60s—I grumped my way up two flights of stairs—no lift—and stalked through the cramped space, barely suppressing the urge to hold my nose.
I inspected every flat surface, all the bathroom fixtures, and flung the bedclothes back to check the state of the linen.
Nick watched my antics with an indulgent grin. “You are such a snob.”
“Don’t start with me.” I wagged a finger in his face. “I prefer my bed to come without resident infestations.”
“Dear God, I love you.” Nick drew me in for a kiss before hoisting his bag onto the bed. “But you’re being dramatic. It’s perfectly adequate for a couple of nights and it’s close to the venue. Boxes ticked.”
I wasn’t saying he was wrong, I just didn’t do . . . sleaze. Unfortunately, I also said that last bit out loud, which only drew more laughter from my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.
“It’s not sleazy,” Nick argued, unpacking his clothes onto the dresser before I even had a chance to wipe the thing down. “It’s just a little old. Some would call it vintage.”
I stared at him bug-eyed. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” I looked around the room and shuddered. “This isn’t vintage, baby. And there’s nothing wrong with old. I’m old. This place, on the other hand, has definite by-the-hour sticky-sheet vibes.”
Nick reached for me and tumbled us both onto the bed. “And you know all about, by-the-hour sticky-sheet vibes, do you? Is there something you haven’t told me?”
Heat rushed into my cheeks. “Well . . . no. Don’t be ridiculous. I just meant . . . you know, it feels—”
A hard kiss silenced my whingeing, making my toes curl in the process. Nick had a habit of doing that, of re-centring me, reminding me what was important. By the time he was done, I’d almost forgotten what we’d been talking about.
Almost.
“I just mean that it’s not exactly—”
“Nope.” Nick flipped us so he was on top and pressed a finger to my lips. “Not another word. We’re here for a book sale, an undeniably exciting event in the ever-charming world of Madigan Church. You will enjoy yourself. You will not let a little dated décor dull your excitement. Now, say it.”
I narrowed my eyes and slowly grumbled, “I will not let a little dated décor dull my excitement.” Nick arched a brow, so I repeated it, louder. “I will not let a little dated décor dull my excitement.”
He grinned and kissed the end of my nose. “What a good boy.”
My knee just missed his balls.
He tut-tutted. “Naughty, naughty. Now, let’s get unpacked and I’ll take you to a nice romantic restaurant for dinner.”
I shot him a look. “Based on the motel choice, I’m not holding my breath.”
He ignored me. “Tomorrow, the tempting scent of a thousand books awaits you. The lure of ink on paper. The carnal pleasure of leather and boards. The eroticism of an impeccably formed bookstack.” He put his lips next to my ear.
“The inevitable arousal from adding to your . . . collection.” His hips made a slow grind against mine and I swallowed a groan. “So you better start unpacking.”
I managed a disdainful, “You’re crazy if you think I’m putting my clothes anywhere near those drawers. And I do not get hard over just any book.” I rolled my eyes. “It has to be . . . special.”
To his credit, Nick didn’t laugh. He simply wriggled my legs apart and sank between them, upping the pressure as he continued to grind. “Like that Conan Doyle I saw you drooling over in the auction inventory, my little Watson.” His mouth found my throat and a filthy sound fell from my lips.
“I’ve told you many times that Sherlock was nothing more than a showboat.
” I slid my hands under his shirt and around the hot skin of his waist. “Watson has always been where it’s at.
And you’re not as smart as you think you are, because that’s not the one I’m interested in.
” I arched up and Nick groaned with pleasure.
“I’d, um—ugh, fuuuuck.” He ground harder. “Fine and I’d love to know more but right now—” He nibbled along my jaw. “—how much for an hour of your time because I happen to know this great place that rents by the hour.”
I snorted and slipped my hand down the back of his jeans. “You can’t afford me, although I might be willing to negotiate on the basis of these babies.” I squeezed his arse and hummed appreciatively.
“In that case—” Nick began to unbutton my trousers. “—do you take American Express?”
I peered out the motel window, frowning at the sheeting rain and thunderous morning sky. Touted as one of the sunniest cities in New Zealand, Nelson wasn’t exactly living up to its reputation.
“So much for walking to the auction,” I grumbled, letting the threadbare curtain fall back into place. “I’m not setting foot out in that muck without a car and a good umbrella.”
“Come back to bed.” Nick patted the mattress without opening his eyes. “It’s too fucking early.”
“It’s eight,” I told him.
His eyes sprang open and he sat bolt upright in bed, all that gorgeous silver chest hair and lithe muscle on full display. “You should’ve woken me.”
I took a minute to admire the view and the fact it was all mine. He was all mine. A miracle in anyone’s books. “Consider yourself woken.”
“Smartarse.” Nick slid from bed and joined me at the window. “Jesus.” He wrapped me in his arms and kissed the side of my neck. “I see you managed to avoid being devoured by a plague of bedbugs. A litre of insecticide for the win.”
“Shut up.” I elbowed him in the stomach but couldn’t hide my smile.
I’d made Nick stop at a convenience store on the way back from our admittedly lovely dinner at a steakhouse, then doused the bed with almost an entire can of insect spray before sliding between the sheets.
The room still reeked of the stuff and I decided it best not to mention the slight redness to Nick’s skin.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s shower and grab breakfast in town. I’d kill for a coffee.”
He turned for the bathroom, but I held him back. “Have you called her yet?”
Nick’s smile disappeared. “I was thinking tonight might be better.”
Oh boy. “You don’t think it’s maybe a little unfair making a seventy-three-year-old woman, your mother, wait until the very last minute to confirm you’re actually coming to see her the following morning?”
Nick said nothing, which had become pretty much par for the course on the subject.
After finally deciding to see his mother, he’d spent the next month avoiding any and all conversation regarding said visit, and I’d respected his privacy.
He replied to Chloe’s letter with one of his own, simple and to the point, agreeing to meet after we’d finished in Nelson.
He hadn’t included a phone number but had given her his email, explaining he didn’t want any awkward phone conversations before they met in person.
Chloe emailed back, clearly delighted at the prospect of meeting him. Nick replied, saying he would call her from Nelson to confirm, which of course left him in control and her at his pleasure.
The man was as stubborn as a mule and twice as charming.
“You do realise she could find you through your business number?” I pointed out. “The fact she hasn’t means she doesn’t want to pressure you. How about you put her out of her misery?”
Nick grimaced. “I’ve been thinking that maybe meeting up wasn’t such a good idea. I’m not ready for it. I might say something I’ll regret. I think we should just talk on the phone to start.”
I sighed and threw my hands in the air. Then I pulled him into a hug. “If you want to walk away, then do it, love. Is that what you really want?”
Nick closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. “No. And yes. So much yes. Okay, I’ll call her, I promise.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Soon.” He sighed. “I’ll call her soon.”
“I don’t need your promises. I’ve got your back either way.” I ran a finger through all that sexy chest hair and Nick almost jumped out of his skin. “Damn, you’re twitchy. How about a back massage in the shower?”
Nick swallowed a smile and opted for a sulking pout. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”
I snorted and grabbed his hand. “Come on, then.” I tugged him into the bathroom, then froze at the sight of the minuscule shower.
“Um . . .” I cocked my head at the tiny plastic cubical and its shower head fixed at around nipple height.
Nick blew a disappointed sigh. “Damn. This is never going to work, is it?”
I slid an arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. “Remember this moment forever. Four stars minimum, baby. Four stars.”