Chapter 17 #2
In one of the piles of clothes scattered around my room, there’s a nice shirt I packed for an evening like this.
Shouldn’t be too creased yet. Always gotta have something tidy on hand.
You never know who you’ll meet in the hundreds of places you visit.
I dig it out and give it a shake. Probably should iron it, but there’s no time for that now.
I’m too eager to get upstairs. If I take too long, someone else might ask her out for food.
Luce has probably got a list of teammates eager to take her out.
She gets on with everyone. Knowing her, she’s probably looking for a chance to eat with Gethin so she can brown nose.
Not on my watch. She needs to learn to have more fun and I’m the guy for that.
I swap shirts then shove my phone, wallet, and my copy of the house key into my pockets.
Next, I check my hair in the nearest mirror – it’ll do – and head out.
I take the grand curved staircase two steps at a time and seek out her room; Longley – the owners named all the bedrooms after places in the area.
Lucy wanted to be near Cai, in case he needed anything.
More fool her. He doesn’t have an off-switch once he gets going. All his tour rehearsing helps his stamina.
I knock on the door three times, making sure the raps are solid and as confident as I should feel.
Footsteps pad across the carpet, and I tug at my top to straighten it out.
Maybe I should have made a little more effort.
She’s always well turned out, crease-free, and I’m always a mess.
If I look too much like a scruff, she’ll turn me down straight away.
Get it together, mun. It’s not like we’ve never hung out. It’ll be fine, and if she’s not sure, I’ll swing it as a couple of work colleagues grabbing dinner. Scrounge up some of the others to take out, too. Can always drive into the city and meet with the rest of them.
I can take a no. It’s not like I won’t spend the rest of the tour obsessing over what could have been.
Her door cracks open and pretty green eyes flash in the gap. They widen when they settle on me.
‘Rhys. Hi. Is everything okay? Did you need anything? I didn’t get a text from you.’
Ah, crap. Coming here unannounced was a shit idea. She probably hates spontaneous plans and wanted a night in to herself. She’ll be mad I disturbed whatever she was doing. Rearranging appointments and other stuff a PA does for fun.
‘E-everything’s fine. Didn’t send you a text, but I’m—’ It shouldn’t be this hard. We’re colleagues. It’s okay to ask her out for dinner when we’re working away. I go out with the other heads all the time and I never had trouble asking them. I can do this.
But it’s not just grabbing tacos with Imran or getting sushi with Bryn, is it?
I puff out a hard breath then say, ‘I wondered if you fancied grabbing some food somewhere?’
Her face doesn’t tell me if she’s annoyed or excited about the invite. All she does is shut the door in my face. What the fuck? We fixed things. At least, I thought we did. We’re supposed to be getting on okay now. We fucking flirted, for fuck’s sake. Slamming the door on me’s fucking rude.
There’s rustling on the other side of the door. Footsteps disappear but after a breath, return again. When she opens the door it's wider and a lot more inviting.
And she’s fucking gorgeous.
Not sure why I find that so surprising. Her curls are down and wild, poking out from all angles. Pillow lines mark her face. The pyjamas she’s wearing are covered in strawberries. Does she taste like them? I’d like to have a try.
‘Shit, were you napping?’
She rubs her pink cheek, as if erasing the evidence. ‘Tried to, but it’s not my thing. I was… lying there, I guess, working out if I’m hungry or if I wanted to go for a walk. I’d love to grab dinner with you, though. Come in, and I’ll make myself more presentable.’
I step into the room, and it’s like getting a glimpse into what she’s like, outside of professional-Lucy. I want to know how she relaxes, what she really does in her downtime.
Her suitcase sits open on the side, empty. Must have put all her clothes away properly. A few toiletry bags and other stuff dot the surfaces, but otherwise, the place is a lot tidier than my room. Figures.
She bends over to rummage in a drawer, and I snatch a glimpse of the strawberry-covered fleece stretching over her backside before looking deliberately away. Fuck me, shit like that should be illegal. Could kill a guy.
‘Well, I think you look great.’
She closes the drawer, and I risk another look. Phew. Normal front-facing Lucy now. There’s a bra in her hand, which means she must not have one on. My eyes go straight to her tits. Yup, nipples. And now I’m perving on her boobs.
She tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifting. Caught red-handed. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think anyone would be impressed if I went to dinner in my jammies. I’ll go get changed.’
She leaves the door of her ensuite ajar, and I take it as an invite to carry on talking to her.
‘Why’d you shut the door in my face when I came here?’ I venture deeper into her room. Where mine’s all creams and florals, hers is a deep red, full of griffins. Interior designers sure take the piss out of stupidly rich people. A book waits on her bedside table, and I wander over for a nose.
‘Wanted to make sure I was decent.’
My ears prick up. Decent. Wouldn’t it be funny if we were both wanking over the same game of chess? Before I can examine the thought further, the rustle of clothing steals my attention. Visions of how she must look, half-naked under the bathroom light, fill my brain, and all my blood shoots south.
Again.
If I were a braver man, and if she weren’t a colleague, I’d stride over there, rip the door off its bloody hinges if I needed to, and ask real nicely if I can drop to my knees in front of her.
The only thing I’m interested in is where she has freckles and moles, and where her stretch marks travel.
I was hungry before I came here – now it’s not food I’m after.
Woah. Gethin in lingerie. Gethin in lingerie. If I don’t calm it, we won’t make it out of her room. My extreme horniness will take over and I’ll scare her off.
I clear my throat and force my attention to the blurb on her book. Hopefully, she’s reading something boring like the best rivers to visit in the Greater Manchester area. ‘How come you were trying to nap?’
‘Getting everyone unloaded and sorted took it out of me. It’s been a while. Topaz hadn’t toured for three years. Only local concerts.’ Her voice jolts, like she’s jumping into her jeans. God, the way her boobs must bounce, especially if they’re not in a—
Get a grip.
‘I told you you didn’t need to. The crew’s got it nailed. You need your energy for running around after Cai tomorrow.’ It takes a lot of effort to keep my tone even, like I’m not holding everything together with the world’s thinnest piece of string.
‘I’ll be fine.’ She pads back over the carpet towards me, dressed now in a pair of jeans and a cosy-looking jumper, but stops when she spots what’s in my hand. ‘A-are you snooping?’
‘Only looking to see if your room is better than mine. It’s not.
Did find this guy, though, and the summary drew me in.
The faerie king can’t resist his British villager, even if her every word ignites more than his temper.
When they’re forced to take cover in a foreign tavern, sharing only one bed, those sparks turn into flames.
I thought you said you read romance, not smutty fae books.
’ And not tomes about Mancunian waterways. Dammit.
‘They are romance.’ She marches across the room, but I don’t let her snatch the book from me.
‘They’re porn.’
‘They are not.’