The Wrong Floor
Maddox
In the basement corridor, Delaney gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I think I zoned out for a second."
It had been more than a second. Already, we were standing at the elevators. But considering the day she'd had, it was no wonder she'd zoned out.
As I pressed the button to go up, she said with a little laugh, "I'm surprised you didn't wander off."
Not a chance. "And I'm surprised you're still standing."
She rolled her eyes. "Hey, I haven't had that much to drink."
"Not because you're drunk," I clarified, recalling her struggles with the suitcase. "Because you're probably exhausted."
"Just a little," she admitted. "It's been one of those days, you know." But then, she brightened. "Actually, the last part has been pretty nice. So…thanks."
And then, she surprised me with a peck on the cheek that caught me completely off guard – not because she'd done it, but because my body reacted like she'd done a hell of a lot more.
Somehow, she'd managed to turn one innocent kiss on the cheek into the most charged moment I'd had in ages. Delaney, meanwhile, had already turned her attention elsewhere, adjusting the strap of her purse and glancing toward the elevators while I was still recalibrating.
Just then, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.
I froze. The elevator wasn't empty.
Fuck.
It was the brunette and blonde from earlier, minus the gift bags, but plus several cocktails too many. The brunette, Megan, looked distinctly unsteady, while the blonde looked moments away from needing someone to hold her hair.
They stared at me.
I stared at them.
Nobody moved.
The blonde slurred, "Where's my stupid selfie?" She gave a drunken snort. "Heeeeey…where'd the lobby go?"
Next to me, Delaney replied, "Oh, gosh. I think you pressed the wrong floor." She gave them a sunny smile. "Here. Let me help." She ducked into the elevator, hit a button, and stepped out just before the elevator doors slid shut, leaving us alone once again.
I stared at the doors. Holy hell.
Would they be back?
I sure as hell hoped not.
I was still staring when Delaney said, "I hope you don't mind."
I yanked my gaze from the elevator. "Mind what?"
"Waiting for the next one. I mean, we could've gotten on with them, but they looked a little tense, like they didn't want company."
I just looked at her.
I was utterly captivated.
Who was this girl, anyway?
"Oh, fine," she laughed. "Plus they looked a little drunk." She glanced down. "And if someone throws up on these shoes, it had better be me."
My lips twitched. "But you didn't have that much wine, remember?"
"A good thing, since I've sullied enough clothes already." Her tone grew serious. "And I really am sorry about your shirt."
I met her gaze. "I'm not."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Really? Why?"
"Because that shirt was the reason we went to dinner."
"Oh." A slow smile spread across her face. "Yeah…I like that thought." Her cheeks flushed. "And, um, me too."
I smiled back. "Yeah?"
"Definitely." Her voice softened. "But seriously…thanks again for everything. I owe you one."
Damn. In truth, I owed her. This had been the most enjoyable evening I'd had in months. Still, I couldn’t resist teasing her. "You already owe me. The story, remember?"
"Fine," she laughed. "Then I'll owe you again." The words had barely left her mouth when a big, noisy group of residents spilled in from the parking garage. I counted nearly a dozen people, all dressed for a night on the town.
None of them looked familiar.
Crisis averted. For now.
As they headed toward us, I looked back to Delaney. "Coffee. You pick the time. I'll pick the place." I paused. "And Delaney?"
"Yeah?"
"It's my treat. I insist."