Chapter 28
“Turndown service completed,” I said as I let myself into Xander’s room.
He looked up from the book he was reading in bed, a home fix-it guide to plumbing. “Turndown service?”
“It’s a hospitality industry term,” I explained. I toed off my sneakers and started to undo my jeans. “Literally, it comes from turning down the bedcovers. But more broadly, it means making sure your guests have everything they need for the night.”
He put his book down and narrowed his gaze at me. “And what did your guest need?” he asked.
“Just some extra towels,” I said. “Why?” Slipping out of my jeans, I narrowed my gaze back at him. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”
“Certainly not,” he said.
I tossed the jeans aside and crawled into bed next to him. “Because, obviously,” I said with a playful grin, “if Jack Lee had made a move on me during turndown service, I would have turned him down.”
Granted, it wasn’t the funniest joke in the world. But in return, Xander barely managed a wan smile.
I frowned. Clearly something was bugging him. And it wasn’t just the guest in Room 203.
“Okay,” I said. “What’s with the mood?”
“What?”
“I can tell something’s bothering you,” I said. “What is it?”
After a beat, he sighed and leaned back against the pillows. “I suppose I’m still thinking about this morning,” he said to the ceiling.
“But it all worked out fine,” I said. “Jack Lee doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Perhaps not,” he said. “Still…I didn’t like being so weak that I had to be carried by your friends. I didn’t like not being able to function independently in your world. I didn’t like the lack of control.”
I frowned deeper. I didn’t like where this whole conversation seemed to be going, dammit.
Okay, so maybe I’d had thoughts moving in a similar direction. Only, I didn’t want to follow those thoughts through to their obvious conclusion. If we couldn’t hide Xander’s true nature here indefinitely, I didn’t want to think about it right now.
Angling my body toward his, I tried to make light of the situation. “And here I thought I’d found the one alpha male who didn’t come with all the alpha-male bullshit.”
He looked at me, confused. “I understood all those words,” he said, “but I don’t think I grasped the meaning.”
Awesome. It looked like I was back to explaining my jokes.
“Okay. Well, alpha males are kind of the top dogs,” I said, snuggling against his shoulder.
“The bad boys. For instance, in romance novels, the hero is usually an alpha male.” I let my hand trace random patterns across his chest. “Most of the time, he’s big and strong and ridiculously charming.
But also, confident. Dominant.” I stopped here to think for a beat.
“The bullshit comes in when those alpha traits go a little toxic. Like, his confidence becomes cockiness.” I laid my palm flat over Xander’s heart and peered up at him.
“Or he becomes dominant to the point where he has to control everything and can’t accept help from others. ”
Xander peered back at me, his expression softening. “I am grateful for your help, Hannah,” he said, putting his hand over mine.
“I know,” I said.
“And for the help of your friends.”
“I know.”
“But yes, you’re right, I did get a little cocky and push my limits.
” He pressed his lips together and grazed my cheek with his knuckles.
“My overconfidence put you in a bad situation,” he said.
“And I deeply regret that. I’m sorry I caused you worry.
I should have done a better job of protecting you. ”
“Well, you don’t need to protect me,” I shot back, pulling away from him and sitting up straight. “That’s not what I’m saying. That’s just more alpha-male bullshit.”
Xander raised his eyebrows at me, and I realized my reply had come out harsher than I’d intended. Obviously, he’d hit a sore spot. I was tired of everyone seeing me as some fragile little thing who needed to be protected. But I didn’t want to have to think about that right now either.
I didn’t want to think at all.
“But you know what’s not bullshit?” I asked in a more playful tone.
“What?” he asked.
“Alpha males—at least in romance novels—are always fantastic in bed.”
With a sexy grin, Xander pulled me into his arms and went in for a kiss.
And to my great delight, he spent the better part of the next hour putting the lovemaking skills of those fictional alpha males to shame.
* * *
The next morning, Xander didn’t want to do his thing in the hot tub until Jack Lee checked out—which was the smart play.
And when Jack had come downstairs for breakfast at 7:00 a.m. on the dot, I was sure he’d be out of here early.
But now, it was almost lunchtime, and the guy was still holed up in his room.
As I poured myself yet another coffee, I glanced down at Xander.
He was wedged underneath the kitchen sink, working on fixing the garbage disposal.
From my vantage point, I could only see his legs, dressed today in my father’s gray sweatpants.
My brow creased with concern. The longer Xander had legs—the longer he delayed his watery transformation and subsequent restoration—the greater the chance of a repeat of yesterday’s collapse.
“This disposal is fascinating,” he said, his voice echoing off the inside of the cabinets.
“Is it?” I asked absently.
“It’s like a bottom feeder that runs on electricity.”
Normally, I was charmed by his observations like this. But right now, I was too preoccupied. I took a big gulp of the coffee, although I was edgy enough without more caffeine.
“Um, Xander?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
He ducked his head out from under the sink and peered up at me strangely. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that in the last ten minutes,” he said.
“I think that’s a slight exaggeration,” I said, checking his coloring now that I could see his face. He didn’t look gray, not like he had before, but—
My thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Ugh! I hoped to God it wasn’t another damn guest. That was all I needed.
Except…that was exactly what I needed, wasn’t it? Guests were how the Sunny Side made its money and stayed in business. I should be hoping for more guests, not fewer. Shouldn’t I?
Before I could analyze that any further, the kitchen door swung open, and Drew strolled in. “Hey, Han. Xan.” He held up a white bakery box. “I brought Cronuts. For the meeting.”
“For…?”
Then it dawned on me.
“The association meeting,” I said. “Right.” It was almost time for our next scheduled get-together.
Drew gave me a funny look.
“What are Cronuts?” asked Xander, getting to his feet.
“Flaky layers of deliciousness with a hole in the middle,” said Drew.
“My husband didn’t invent them, but I’m pretty sure he perfected them.
Part croissant, part donut. All good.” Drew grabbed a knife out of the block of wood on the counter and cut through the white string that was tied around the box. “Want one?”
“Oh, for crissake, he doesn’t want a Cronut,” I said. “He wants to get in the goddamn hot tub and be a merman for a while so he doesn’t pass the fuck out again. But he can’t because that stupid fucking guest is still here.”
Okay, in truth, I didn’t just say it. I practically shouted it. And now, Xander and Drew were gaping at me like I had three heads.
I was annoyed, but I didn’t know if I was annoyed at them or myself or Jack Lee or what. Maybe I was annoyed at the whole fucking universe.
Clearly, I needed a time-out.
“Fine, whatever, have a Cronut,” I said, plunking my mug down on the counter and sloshing coffee onto the marble countertop. Without even bothering to wipe up, I stomped off toward the lobby.
* * *
A little later, most of the members of the Atlantic Avenue Block Association were milling around the Sunny Side’s lobby, chatting and eating the Cronuts, but Rita was running late.
While we waited for her to join us, Casey and Millie were being especially frisky with each other, so Garth volunteered to take the dogs out for a quick walk to calm them down.
And I tried to figure out how to calm myself down.
Had I really just thrown a hissy fit about the half croissant, half donuts?
Well…obviously not. My outburst had really been about the half man, half fish currently repairing my garbage disposal. And the fact that he must be getting weaker by the—
“Hannah Banana,” said Drew, walking up next to me.
“You know, I’ve never liked that nickname,” I grumbled.
“Oh, I know,” said Drew, the little shit.
I smiled despite myself, and some of my foul mood lifted. “I’m sorry for losing it back there,” I told him with a nod toward the kitchen.
He shrugged. “I get it,” he said. “You’re worried about someone you care about.”
My eyes widened, although his perceptiveness shouldn’t have surprised me.
Drew could read me like a large-print book.
The two of us had been besties forever. And after my frantic 911 call to him and Garth yesterday, he certainly knew that Xander and I were intimate.
Still, I was a little thrown by the casual way he’d just talked about my feelings—especially when I hadn’t ever talked about them.
I shook my head. “He hates it though,” I said. “He hates that I’m worried. And that he’s so…vulnerable.”
Drew shrugged again. “You’ll work it out.”
“But…will we?” I asked. It was The Question, the one I dreaded. “I mean, Xander and I are from two different worlds. Like, literally.”
The front door opened, and we both turned. It was Garth coming back in with the dogs, who did seem to have walked off some of their restless energy.
“You know what?” said Drew, his eyes still watching his husband as he stooped down to remove the dogs’ leashes. The affection in his gaze was unmistakable. “That man is a Yankees fan.” He looked at me then and raised his eyebrows. “A Yankees fan, Han. And somehow, we made it work.”