Chapter 70
One bed
As Gray stepped aside to let Shelley into his place, he felt his patience fray further. Inwardly, he groaned. How do I get away from her? If Riley were still here, he could have escaped to her place.
The sight of Shelley's belongings strewn about already had him feeling boxed in. Letting out a long sigh, he resigned himself. One night. I just have to get through one night.
He turned toward the bathroom, ready to end this interaction, but Shelley stepped in his way, her grin wide and her hands planted on her hips.
"That sounds fine, but there are just a couple of teensy things to sort out first," she said sweetly. "One, I left some equipment at the dive booth, so we'll need to swing by there. And two,"--her smile turned coy--"where am I sleeping?"
Gray's jaw clenched. The look on her face said it all, but he wasn't playing this game.
"You're sleeping on the couch," he said firmly. His tone left no room for argument.
Shelley laughed as if he'd just told the world's funniest joke. "Oh, no, no. That couch looks like torture. Now, I promise I won't touch you, but there's no way I'm sleeping there. I'd never get a wink! So, how about you stop being shy and let me share the bed?"
As she leaned toward him, Gray took a step back, his patience officially gone.
"Shelley, it's not happening," he said flatly. "You've got two options: the couch, or I can grab a sleeping mat and bag, and you can sleep on the floor. Your choice. But let me make one thing clear: you should've booked a hotel instead of assuming you could stay here."
And with that, he spun on his heel and locked himself in the bathroom.
Inside, Gray splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He took a deep breath, repeating his new mantra out loud.
"Stay calm. It's one night. Stay calm. It's one night."
His mind raced with questions for Shelley, but his gut told him not to confront her now. Better to wait until I have backup. He needed witnesses, someone to prevent any chance of her twisting the conversation.
Once he felt calm enough, he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to collapse into bed, but stopped dead in his tracks.
"What. The. Hell." His voice came out as more of a shriek than he intended. "Where are your clothes?"
Shelley was standing in the middle of the room, grinning.
"Gray Whittal, you are such a hoot. What do you think I'm wearing?" she said, spinning in place, wearing her cutest and tiniest pajamas.
Gray slapped a hand over his eyes. "Put.. put..." He stammered, too flustered to think straight. "Something... over..."
She just laughed, clearly enjoying his discomfort, but Gray was done. Without another word, he marched to his bed, climbed in, and pulled the covers over his head. He would not dignify her antics with another response.
Shelley blinked, her confidence wavering. No one had ever turned her down, especially not when she looked this good. How could Gray look at her and not want to share his bed?
Her mind drifted to Riley, and her lips pressed into a thin line. That woman had to be the reason for his resistance. Narrowing her eyes at Gray's back, she promised herself she'd figure out how to change his mind.
She glanced at the couch and grimaced. She would not get any sleep there. Instead, she'd spend the night stewing and plotting her next move.