Chapter 19 – Brianna
Gravel crunches beneath my tires as I pull into the hotel where Kelly and Sawyer are staying. It’s only two stories high, and the lights in the parking lot are dimmed now, but it isn’t a total dump. Plus, it’s close to the airport.
I’d called ahead while Seth was sleeping to make sure they had two rooms available—one for me and one for him—because even though I’m running on fumes and a sugar-fueled energy drink high, I knew we’d both need a place to crash when we arrived.
But now that I’m here, staring at the blinking hotel sign, feeling the buzz of sugar and too much caffeine flowing through my veins, and the quiet parking lot that looks almost eerie this late at night, I’m wondering if I’ll even sleep tonight.
Probably not.
Even without that cola I just chugged and the nerd clusters I downed, I doubt I’d be able to shut my brain off long enough to rest. I’ll likely just sit in my room, scrolling through channels I’m not really watching or reading a book while my mind spins in a thousand different directions until I conclude on the fact that I just shared more with Seth about my mom and dad than I have with anyone else in my life.
I’m an over-sharer by nature, but my mom is sacred, and my dad is off limits to most. So why did I do that?
“Hey, Seth. We’re here.”
I nudge him gently, my hand brushing his arm.
Beneath my fingertips, solid muscle jumps at the contact, and for a second, I’m caught off guard by it.
I work with professional athletes every day.
I spend my life surrounded by people built differently than the average person.
But sometimes I forget just how physically imposing Seth is until moments like this.
Maybe it’s because I usually see him on the ice, wrapped in layers of padding and equipment. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten used to him. But being trapped in my SUV with him for hours has really driven the point home. The man takes up space.
His shoulders seem too broad for the passenger seat. His thighs are so big they crowd the center console. Even asleep, he looks dangerous, all long limbs and solid muscle packed into a vehicle that suddenly feels much smaller than it did when I started the drive.
I notice the thick forearms resting in his lap, the callused hands, the sheer size of him when he’s not moving and completely relaxed. It all makes me feel very aware of the fact that Seth is a lot bigger than me.
I love that.
“Hey,” I nudge him again but there’s still no response. The man is passed out. I try again, pressing a little harder this time.
“Seth…” I whisper, leaning in closer. His breathing is deep and steady, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted.
God, why does he have to look so good even when he’s sleeping?
His broad chest rises and falls in a rhythm that makes me want to curl up beside him.
Maybe I could get some sleep tonight if I was held in his arms. I wonder what that’d feel like.
My ex didn’t love to do it. Said he got overheated too easily…
Nope. Don’t go there, Bri.
I sigh, briefly considering whether I should just let him sleep in the car until morning.
We could probably sit here for a few hours and save ourselves the money.
But then I remember exactly who’s passed out in my passenger seat.
Seth Tremblay isn’t just some guy who can sleep folded into an SUV all night.
He’s one of the Manhattan Mayhem’s most valuable players, and the last thing I need is for him to wake up with a crick in his neck because I was trying to save myself the hotel bill money.
The man’s body is his livelihood, and right now, I know his hamstring is tight since it’s cramped into the front seat of my SUV like he’s trying to fold himself into a pretzel.
Not ideal for a guy who just played a huge debut game with his new, professional team and who my dad has paid a lot of money to have on his team.
That’s probably the least romantic thought I could be having about Seth right now.
I nudge him again, harder this time, getting a good whiff of whatever soap he used when he showered after the game. Ugh, he smells so good.
“Hey, Seth…”
Finally, he stirs, blinking heavily, eyes glazed with exhaustion as he tries to focus.
“Oh… hey there.” His voice is low, gravelly from sleep, and way too sexy for this time of the night. He runs one big hand through his hair, and the movement has his biceps flexing harder. I swear, Seth could blink and I’d find it attractive.
His big body shifts, stretching out as much as he can in the cramped space, and when he winces, I know he’s in pain. His suit is rumpled, his tie loosened, and his hair is a mess of slightly damp, tousled, dark blond waves.
He looks absolutely delicious.
“We should probably get up and go inside the hotel or you’re going to be in even more pain tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he lets out an uncomfortable grunt. “That’s probably a good idea. My legs feel like shit.”
He unlocks the door and unfolds himself from the seat, practically falling out into the parking lot.
I follow, stretching out my own aching legs and back.
Since this trip was so last-minute, I didn’t pack anything.
He’s still in his suit, and I’m rocking a Mayhem team shirt and the same grey leggings I’ve been in all day.
I need to brush my teeth. I need to wash my face.
But all those things will have to wait until tomorrow.
“You good?” I ask as he pops the trunk and grabs the after-game bag he had with him.
He nods. “I always keep a change of clothes in here. I’m not sleeping in a suit.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, looking like a tired, grumpy model who just walked off a shoot. “Do you have a change of clothes?”
“No. But I’m fine.”
Liar. I’d give anything to peel off these leggings and throw on an oversized T-shirt. Preferably, one that smells like him.
Oh well. This will have to do.
We head into the lobby, where a bored girl behind the front desk is scrolling on her phone. She barely looks up as we approach. “Hi, welcome. How can I help you?” she asks in a voice that says she’d rather not.
“We need two rooms,” Seth says at the same time I say, “One room.”
His head snaps toward me, brows raised. “Bri—”
“I’m not going to sleep,” I explain, realizing how this probably sounds.
I wasn’t suggesting that we share a bed or anything, just that there’s no point in paying for two rooms. I really need to save my money, and I don’t see the point in paying for a room when I’m just going to be sitting in it for a few hours until Sawyer wakes up and we can hit the road.
“So… what? You’re just gonna sit there and watch me sleep?”
“I’ll read,” I argue. “Or watch TV. I’ll be fine. I swear you won’t even know I’m in the room.”
“You need to sleep. You said you barely slept last night because you were up reading Sawyer’s book.”
Oof. He remembers that.
“I can’t sleep.” I blow out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “That energy drink is still buzzing through me.”
He drags a hand down his face, looking torn and then in the most serious voice he says, “Bri. I can’t share a room with you.”
Ouch. The flush that spreads across my cheeks is immediate.
I swallow down the sting of his words. I thought we’d made progress tonight.
He wasn’t being as distant. He was asking me questions about my mom and dad.
He admitted he chased after me the night of Halloween.
He told me he wouldn’t have let me leave if he’d caught me.
And now he can’t share a room with me for a couple hours.
I look at him for a moment, trying to figure out which version of Seth I'm dealing with. The one in the car who let his guard down mile by mile, or the one who retreats the second something feels too close.
“Is it me?” I ask quietly. “Or is it my dad?”
He doesn’t answer, which makes everything worse.
The front desk girl lets out a dramatic sigh, types something into her computer, and slides two keycards across the counter. “How are you paying?”
I dig into my purse, internally wincing a little thinking about how much this is going to hurt my already struggling bank account, but Seth’s already there, cutting me off.
“You’re not paying for any of this, Bri.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.
Okay, so he won’t share a room with me and won’t let me pay for my room. He’s really making his point clear that he doesn’t want to spend any more time around me.
“I’ll hang with Sawyer for free next week,” I blurt out.
“Stop,” he grumbles as he hands over his card. “I’m paying you to be her nanny and I’m paying for this room. Don’t bring it up again.”
The front desk employee swipes it while pretending not to be eavesdropping. There’s no ‘have a good night’ from her. She just hands him the receipt and goes back to scrolling on her phone.
I look down at the number on mine and his and of course, the rooms are right next to each other.
He’s already turning with his bag over the shoulder, not waiting for me to follow.
The elevator ride to the second floor is painfully quiet, filled with awkward silence and too many unspoken words.
I look everywhere but at him. I scroll through my phone, catching up on text messages from the team doctor about how the medical staff did with Mayhem’s game tonight and missed messages from my roommate Natasha.
When we reach our floor, we both swipe into our rooms, and I give him a small awkward wave.
“Goodnight. I’ll text Kelly so she knows we’re here. I can call you when Sawyer wakes up.”
He gives me a nod. “Sure. Night, Bri.”