Chapter 11 #3
Allie leans down and picks up the leggings, inspecting the pants as if they could explode at any moment. “Ashton, this brand is really expensive. These cost like a hundred dollars.”
“Oh, yeah. There was a sale,” I lie. They were actually two hundred, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Was it completely irresponsible of me? Maybe.
I’m making way less money working at The Lantern than I was working for my dad, and my trust fund is seeming more and more out of reach.
My dad has been threatening to take it away for years.
I can’t imagine leaving the company helped.
Not to mention, I’m already paying for this room tonight, and it’s not cheap by any means.
But she looked so uncomfortable when she hobbled down the street toward the coffee shop in her heels earlier.
“I can’t accept these, Ashton,” she says gently, which is unlike her, but I’ve been seeing these tiny glimpses of her softer side come out all day.
“It’s just leggings—” I start, but she puts a hand up.
“I know, but I can’t—” She shakes her head slightly, almost imperceptibly. “Just return them.” She hands me the pants and opens the door to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Just like that, she’s back in there with the door closed.
I hear the shower turn on, and I put the leggings back in the bag but leave the shirt and socks out.
She can at least wear those so her feet don’t freeze.
God, when did I start to care about Allie Montgomery’s feet being cold?
One minute, I’m planning all the ways I can make her life at work miserable, and the next I’m worried that her fucking feet are going to be cold? I need to get a grip.
My best course of action is to order room service and flop myself on the bed with the remote, so that’s exactly what I do.
I find a mindless movie and attempt to watch it, but it’s hard to concentrate on anything knowing Allie is naked a few feet away from me—naked and wet.
I shake the thought from my head and try to focus on the movie again.
Twenty minutes later, the shower turns off and I hear soft footfalls against the floor. The bathroom door swings open and Allie emerges, steam billowing behind her.
“Close your eyes,” she calls to me, and I reluctantly obey.
She scurries around before going back to the bathroom.
When she comes out again, my eyes flick open.
She’s wearing the Baybridge Inn shirt with nothing underneath.
At least nothing that I can see. It’s one of those oversized styles, so it’s long enough that it reaches her mid-thigh.
Her wet hair drips down the shirt, leaving dark gray splotches on the sides, and her ocean eyes sparkle beneath her black-rimmed glasses.
She looks downright edible.
Before I can say anything, she bends down to pick up the socks and I see a hint of red fabric covering her ass.
She is wearing panties, but they look pretty flimsy from over here.
She sits down on the floor, making sure to cover herself with the shirt as she pulls the socks on.
When she turns her hand, I see the flash of black ink on her right forearm.
It’s a flower, but I’m not sure what kind.
Despite my grandmother’s best efforts, I’ve never been able to identify all the different varieties of flowers.
There’s small cursive writing underneath that says “There’s beauty in chaos.
” It’s where I got the idea for her nickname.
I first noticed it at the gala, but it wasn’t until this afternoon that I actually called her that.
“I ordered us some food,” I say, breaking the silence.
“I’m not hungry.” She grabs a towel to dry off her hair.
Of course. What the hell did I do to piss her off now? It’s best to not even wonder. I would need a Ph.D. in the inner workings of her brain to figure it out.
There’s a knock at the door, and a man wearing a hotel uniform comes in and sets the food I ordered down on the table in the corner by the fireplace.
I give him a tip, thanking him as he rushes off and I’m alone with Allie once again.
I turn the movie off and sit down at the table, helping myself to the pasta and salad I ordered for us to share, while Allie sits on the bed, repeatedly swiping her phone.
After about ten minutes, I hear a scoff and she shuffles over and sits on the opposite side of me.
“Fine. I’ll have some,” she says as if she’s doing me a favor by eating.
I internally roll my eyes as I hand her a plate, and she inhales the scent of the rich tomato sauce.
Her eyes flutter and her lip curls upward like she’s suddenly been filled to the brim with warmth.
She takes a bite of the pasta and closes her eyes, savoring the taste on her tongue.
This is the second time I’ve watched her eat today, but I feel like I could watch a whole season of it.
After a few more bites, she looks up at me.
“I don’t suppose you ordered wine?” she asks hopefully.
“Nope,” I tell her, and her face falls.
“So I’m expected to spend the night snowed in with you without alcohol?”
“You’re welcome to order some.”
She looks like she might do just that when her eyes light up all of a sudden, as if she just remembered something. She digs around in her purse for a while before she produces a small flask.
“Are you—do you seriously have a flask in your purse?”
“Look, before you get all Judgey McJudgerson over there, I don’t normally have a flask in my purse, but I used this bag when I went out bar-hopping last and I had brought a flask for…you know…an emergency.”
“An emergency,” I repeat. “Like the bar ran out of alcohol?”
“You never know.”
I shake my head and hold out my hand for the flask. She takes a small sip and hands it to me. “It’s tequila,” she says.
I take a swig, wincing slightly, the room-temperature liquid burning as it slides down my throat. “Whatever this is, it’s past its prime,” I choke.
She grabs for the flask, so I hand it back to her. “It’s not like alcohol goes bad.” She takes another sip. “It’s just a little warm.”
“You enjoy it,” I tell her as I clear our plates and place them on the room service tray.
“Or…” There’s a look in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen anger, annoyance, sadness, even lust in those baby blues, but I have never seen this mischievous glint in her eyes like she’s about to steal all my money and hop in a getaway car, cackling all the way to the bank.
“Or, what?”
“We could play a game.”
A game? My ears perk up. I love games. Not to brag or anything, but I am the reigning Monopoly champion among my siblings.
We’ve been playing it since we were old enough to read the property cards.
Still, something in the back of my mind tells me that nothing good can come from playing games with Allie Montgomery.
Apparently, I lose all sense of self-preservation when it comes to her, so I respond with a curt, “I’m listening.”
“Truth or dare? Drink if you don’t answer the question or do the dare.”
“What are we, sixteen?” I scoff, although I can’t say I’m entirely displeased with the idea of making Allie squirm with questions. Knowing her, she would probably choose “dare” every time, though.
She huffs. “Okay, never have I ever?”
“That’s even worse!” I laugh, and she narrows her eyes at me.
“Ugh, never mind. I’ll just drink alone.
” Standing up, she grabs the flask and flicks the switch on the wall that ignites the gas fireplace.
The fire whirs to life, the flames dancing in shades of scarlet and burnt orange.
We still haven’t discussed the queen-sized elephant in the room.
I have no doubt that Allie thinks she’s getting the bed, and if it were anyone—literally anyone else in my life, I would offer to sleep on the floor without a second thought, but I can’t let her get off that easy.
“Wait,” I say, and she turns. “Fine, we can play, but let’s make it interesting.” I stand up and grab the two wine glasses on top of the mini-bar, pouring an equal amount from the flask into each before handing one to Allie.
“The rules are simple. You have to drink every time you’ve done something. First one with an empty glass loses.”
“And what does the winner get?”
I lean in, watching her eyes dart back and forth between mine, taking note of the steady inhale and exhale of her breaths. My dick twitches, but I ignore it. “The bed.”
Her face scrunches up and I know she’s going to try to argue with me, but just as she opens her mouth, that devious look crosses over her features again as she drops her ass onto the rug in front of the fireplace. “Fine.”
“Great. I’ll go first. Never have I ever…” I look around the room momentarily until my eyes land on her arm. “Gotten a tattoo.”
“Of course you haven’t,” she mutters as she takes a small sip of tequila, licking her lips after.
She thinks for a moment. “Never have I ever…been rich,” she says with a triumphant smirk.
I take a tentative sip because the last thing I want is to have the I’m not wealthy just because I come from wealth conversation right now.
Allie clears her throat and looks at me expectantly. Right, it’s my turn. “Never have I ever had sex in a car.”
Allie doesn’t skip a beat as she takes a sip of her drink. She must notice my questioning grin and shrugs her shoulders. “What? I lost my virginity in the back of a Subaru.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “Sounds like a great first time.”
“It was awful,” she admits. “It was his mom’s car, and his brothers played soccer, so there were all these sweaty jerseys and nets in the back. I got caught at one point.”
I’m laughing so hard now, it physically hurts, and I have to hold my stomach while tears spring to my eyes.
“It’s not funny!” Allie protests. “It was the only time I've ever been tied up during sex, and it was accidental.”