Page 4 of Hale Yes (Highway to Hale #1)

CHAPTER ONE

Is your mama in this hotel?

Nicolette

PRESENT DAY

“You’re so pretty,” the man says as he thrusts inside me. “Your eyes are the color of Dryophytes cinereus .”

I lie on my back and try not to wrinkle my nose. Did he just compare my eyes to a goddamn tree frog? What does one even say to that?

My mind is a bit scrambled from the amphibian reference, and I can’t seem to remember the guy’s name. Carson? Calvin? Hell if I know, so I go with, “Babe. Your huge cock feels so good.”

Okay, huge might be an exaggeration, but he’s not small either. We’d been flirting from afar all week but finally started talking at the final cocktail party for the American Academy of Clinical Biochemistry conference in Los Angeles. One thing led to another, and now I’m in his hotel room.

“Thank you,” the man on top of me says.

Connor grins. He seems to appreciate the dick compliment. Hmm, not Connor, but I’m getting closer. Conrad! Yes, his name is Conrad.

I wrap my ankles around his waist and purr, “Harder, Conrad.”

He lifts his head, his brown eyes darting in confusion between my green ones—that apparently remind him of the American tree frog—and I worry I got his name wrong.

“This is as hard as I get,” he tells me, flexing his hips, and I groan inwardly.

Outwardly though, I give him my best flirty smile. “I mean fuck me harder.”

The corners of his lips tilt upward. He really is quite handsome when he smiles. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Conrad pulls back and pushes in a little harder. “That’s it,” I encourage, still wanting more. I grab his ass with both hands and yank him into me with a rough thrust.

The headboard bangs against the wall, and Conrad freezes, jerking his head up and staring like he’s never heard that noise before. “That was loud,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” I soothe because seriously… move, dude .

Still staring at the wall, he gnaws his bottom lip. “I’m not used to being loud at home because Mama’s room is right next to mine.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Is your mama in this hotel?” I ask, tilting my hips to get some friction on my G-spot, though Conrad has completely stopped moving now.

“N-no, but if she found out I was doing this, she’d be mad. What if someone calls hotel security and they call Mama to come get me from jail?”

I search his face. He has a few wrinkles around his eyes, making him look mature, and his name badge told me he’s a PhD, but I have to make sure I’m not committing a felony here. Tentatively, I ask, “How old are you, Conrad?”

“Thirty.”

Phew! Not a minor, just a mama’s boy.

I wrap my hand around the back of his head and pull him down for a long kiss. He seems to relax as I murmur against his lips, “Being at a hotel is the perfect chance for you to get dirty and bang some headboards, don’t you think?” At the same time, I clench my pussy around him.

He groans and rests his forehead against mine. “Shit. Yes.”

“Then fuck me hard.” I’m pretty sure if I ask him for what I really want—like, say, a nice hand necklace?—he’d probably run screaming.

Conrad pushes in hard, banging the headboard against the wall again, and I close my eyes in pleasure. That’s it. Just what I need. His breathing hitches on his next thrust, and he stills.

With a raspy voice, he cries, “I’m ejaculating my semen.”

Fucking hell. My libido takes a nosedive at that very awkward proclamation, and I blow out a frustrated breath while Conrad comes into the condom. Five heaving breaths later, he rolls off me and covers his eyes with his forearm.

“Wow, that was amazing, Nicolette,” he pants.

“Yeah,” I sigh, pushing to a seated position. “I’m just gonna use your bathroom to clean up.”

He uncovers his face and reaches down to remove his condom before holding it out to me. “Toss that while you’re in there, okay?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” I say, pinching it between my forefinger and thumb while I climb off the bed. Five minutes later, I emerge in my black cocktail dress, hands thoroughly washed.

Conrad sits up with the sheet pooled around his waist and confusion on his face.

“Why did you get dressed? I don’t care if you sleep naked.

” He shrugs. “I mean, if we were at my house, you’d have to get dressed and sneak out before six because that’s when Mama brings my breakfast. But we’re all alone.

” He says that last part with what I assume he thinks is a sultry invitation.

Instead of being rude, I decide to fib. “Oh, I wish I could, but I have an early flight and still need to pack.”

“Can I have your number?” he blurts. “I know you live in New York, and I’ll be there next month.” His grin is wide and hopeful. “I’m staying at a hotel.”

I walk over and kiss his cheek, trying to soften the blow. “I’ve got a lot going on next month, but I enjoyed getting to know you, Conrad. You’re really sweet.”

And it’s true. Conrad is a sweet and smart man, but I don’t want to hook up with him again.

He gives me a boyish smile and blushes. “Okay, you can find me on social media if you change your mind. My last name is James.”

I turn to leave, tossing a wink over my shoulder. “Keep banging those headboards, Conrad James.” His laughter follows me out the door.

With the straps of my high heels looped over my index finger, I make my way down the carpeted corridor. I’m going to have to scrub the hell out of my feet when I get back to my room, but my arches ache too much to put my shoes back on.

Another woman approaches from the other direction, her stilettos also in her left hand. I recognize her from one of this morning’s seminars. We make eye contact, and her lips curve up in a chagrined smile of kinship.

“You doing the post-convention walk of shame too?”

I laugh and nod, stopping when I get even with her. “I guess so.” Holding out my right hand, I say, “I’m Nicolette Bell.”

The woman’s red lipstick is smudged a little when she smirks. “Like I don’t recognize you, Dr. Bell. Your lecture on biomolecules in the cosmetics industry was amazing.” We shake. “I’m Shay Martin.”

“Thank you, and please call me Nicolette.” On a whim, I ask, “Hey, would you like to grab a drink down at the bar?”

Her expression brightens. “I’d love that, but do you care if I grab a pair of flats? My feet are killing me.”

“God, yes. In fact, I think I’ll put on some comfortable clothes too. I’m a few floors up.” I don’t mention I’m on the top floor. The conference put me up in the presidential suite since I was a featured speaker.

“Meet you at the entrance of the bar in ten,” Shay says, walking backward toward her room with a grin on her face.

I’m dressed in black yoga pants, a red tunic top that flutters around my hips, and my black HEYDUDES fitted comfortably on my freshly washed feet. Shay is dressed similarly in black leggings and a green V-neck top that looks amazing with her strawberry blonde hair.

“I was excited to be accepted into the Academy this year,” Shay says as the waiter drops off our lemon drop martinis. “I just graduated from pharmacy school two years ago.”

“Where did you get your degree?” I ask.

“University of Houston.” Her face pinkens a little. “I know it’s not like Harvard or Duke, where you went.”

Reaching across the table, I pat her hand. “Hey, you got your doctorate, and that’s all that matters. I love seeing more and more women in the science fields.” I take a sip of my drink and watch as Shay visibly relaxes, her shoulders inching down.

“I was glad to get in at U of H because I grew up in Houston. My mom has diabetes and isn’t the best at taking care of herself, so it was nice to be close to her.”

I chuckle. “I was the opposite. I was accepted at Columbia and Princeton for undergrad, but those were way too close to my family in Jersey, so I decided on Harvard. And to broaden my horizons a bit, I got completely out of the Northeast for my postgrad degrees. I actually enjoyed Duke. North Carolina is a beautiful state.”

Shay’s brown eyes are sympathetic. “Don’t get along with your parents?”

My nose wrinkles. “My dad tries, but my mom…” I tilt my head back and forth a few times, trying to be diplomatic. “Let’s just say she doesn’t get me.”

Sensing the touchy topic, Shay changes the subject, which I appreciate. “I didn’t expect so many people to be hooking up at this conference, but everywhere I looked tonight, couples were leaving together left and right.”

I laugh, remembering my first conference years ago. “It’s not uncommon once the drinks get flowing. People have been in intense classes for days, so they want to let loose.”

Shay giggles. “I get that. I know all the talk about hormones made me feel a little frisky.” She tastes her drink and eyes me. “Were you with that tall guy you were talking to at the party?”

I nod, not wanting to talk badly about Conrad. I feel a little protective of the guy. “He was really nice.”

My new friend sighs. “My guy too. He had some ink on his arm, so I thought maybe he was a bit of a bad boy, but he was just… nice.”

Placing my fingertips on my temples, I close my eyes and hum. “Hmmmm, a tattoo? Let me guess. A model of an atom?” When I open my lids, Shay is gaping at me in shock, and I know I’m right. “Bohr model or Rutherford?”

“Bohr. How did you know that?”

I wave a hand at her. “It’s the same tat every biochem guy has. I’m still looking for a guy who has something original or inspiring.”

Shay’s face turns contemplative, her eyes unfocusing for a second before they widen. “Crap, you’re right. I saw at least twenty of them this week.”

I twist one of the escaped curls at the nape of my neck. “I’ve decided to swear off science guys. I’ve said it before, but I mean it this time.”

Shay titters out a laugh. “Same.” Her smile softens. “This is nice, having another woman to talk with. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. We STEM wenches have to stick together. When I was first starting out, I found it difficult to connect with other people.” I shake my head. “Not on a professional level; that came a bit easier for me. But it was hard to find people I wanted to spend time with at the end of the day.”

She waves her hand in front of her shoulder. “I volunteer anytime you want to unwind after a conference.” Propping her chin in her palm, she says, “If you’re ever in Houston, give me a call. I’d love to hang out again.”

I think of the email I recently received—the one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about—and meeting a new friend from Houston feels like a sign I’m headed in the right direction. “I’ll do that,” I tell her, adding, “And it might be sooner than you expect.”