Page 17 of Slumming It

I was still digestingthislittle nugget when he said, "And you owe me twenty."

I forced a laugh. "Twenty what? Pushups?"

He frowned. "What?"

"You sound like a drill sergeant."

"Yeah, well I’m not."

"Obviously." I sighed. "That was a joke."

"Dollars," he said with no trace of a smile. "Not pushups."

I wasn't laughingnow. "Seriously?"

"No joke here," he said. "Cash only."

"Oh, really?" My tone grew snotty. "What, you don't take checks?"

"From you?" He eyed me like I'd just tried to pick his pocket. "No."

Ignoring this latest insult, I said, "And why would I pay you anything?"

He glanced toward the phone on the night stand. "Because you cost me a bet."

I squinted in confusion. "Like…I made you lose?"

"Pretty much."

His shirt was still open, and I tried not to stare at his muscular pecs or his stupidly defined abs. With a body like that – and forget the attitude – the guy looked like he could tackle the world and not break a sweat. "Oh, please," I said. "Like I could 'make' you do anything."

In reply, he held out his hand, palm-up, as if expecting me to slap it with a twenty. I stared down, taking in his large palm and long straight fingers, which of course made me think yet again of all those rumors.

Big feet, big fingers, and a big you-know-what.

Like I cared.

As far as the money, I didn't have twenty to spare. It's not like I was starving or anything, but Vivian and I had sunk nearly every penny we had into securing this hotel, which meant that things were pretty tight when it came to cash.

My checking account wasn't much better. Silently I considered the balance. Even if hewouldaccept a check, it would surely bounce.

Yes, even for twenty dollars. How pathetic was that?

But so what?I had no intention of paying. "If you lost a bet," I told him, "it's your own fault, not mine."

To my surprise, he withdrew his hand and shoved it into his pants pocket. The hand emerged a moment later holding the bronze key to his hotel room. He held it up between us and asked, "And what's with the keys?"

I was startled by the sudden change of topic. "Sorry, what?"

He gave the key a little jiggle. "Why metal, not electronic?"

The reason for this was slightly odd and none of his business. "Why should I tellyou?"

"Maybe I'll forgive the twenty."

I narrowed my eyes. "Meaning maybe you won't?"

"It depends on your answer."