Page 9 of Truth or More Truth (Throwback RomComs #3)

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. . .

“ W hy do you need to talk about your job?” Melissa asks me.

What is it about darkness that makes people want to spill their guts?

I shouldn’t be talking to her about this.

I should be talking to Ash or Randall or even Diego, who’s my client but also my closest friend.

But here I am, about to open up to a woman I’m not sure even likes me, though I hope I might be growing on her a little.

“Because I’m not happy,” I admit. I haven’t said this to anyone else, so why am I admitting it to her?

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Why?” she asks softly.

“Because I’ve discovered I hate being a jerk all the time, but I have to in order to do my job well.

” The word “jerk” isn’t the word I’d use for myself—I’d use something a little more colorful—but since this is the word Melissa loves to use to describe me, I’ll stick with it.

It makes me sound not quite so awful as reality dictates.

“Are you sure you have to be a jerk?” she asks.

I think silently for awhile. “I don’t know how to do it any other way. I barely know how to attempt to be nice when I’m not working. ”

“I disagree with that, because you’ve been mostly nice to me today. But anyway, can you try to do your work a different way?”

I’ve thought about this a lot, and I don’t have a solution. “What if I do, and it backfires on me? I’ll be letting my clients down. They hired me to be ruthless—to do whatever needs to be done to get them what they want. What if I can’t get them what they want without that attitude?”

“Could you make small changes? Test the waters? Or just focus on not being a jerk everywhere except at the negotiation table?”

I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “I don’t know. I’m afraid any kind of change toward being less ruthless will be seen as a weakness. And if there’s anything that’s exploited in my business, it’s even the slightest hint of weakness.”

“Kindness isn’t a weakness, Bobby.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a story there?”

The woman is perceptive. “Maybe there is,” I say, “but it’s not a story for tonight.”

“Okay.”

I’m surprised by her willingness to drop the topic. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. You don’t have to tell me everything. You’re entitled to your privacy, and I’m sorry I pressed you earlier today. Only tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

I let out a long breath, thankful she’s proving her trustworthiness. “Okay. Thanks for not pushing me.”

“You’re welcome.”

We’ve been silent for a few minutes when she says, “Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really cold.”

The temperature in the room has dropped considerably since the power went out. This place apparently isn’t insulated well, and being in the room on the end of the building isn’t helping matters.

“Please take what I’m about to say at face value, nothing more.

” I draw in a deep breath and hope I’m not about to ruin the peace we’ve established between us.

“I think we’re going to need to share our body heat before this night is over, so if you’re comfortable with it, come on over here with me. ”

When she doesn’t respond after a few seconds, nausea settles in my belly, knowing I leaped over a line I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near.

She finally says, “I want to—for the warmth, obviously—but …”

“But what?” I prompt, when she doesn’t finish her thought.

“But what about your girlfriend?”

I sigh. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then who … you know what? I’m not going to ask that. Like I said, you’re entitled to your privacy.”

“I’m not ready to tell that story, either, but I’m not lying to you. I don’t have a girlfriend. And for the record, I wouldn’t have asked you to come over here if I did. Or at least not until our teeth were chattering and we were on the brink of hypothermia.”

Then I hear rustling, and extra weight lands on me as Melissa adds her bedspread to mine, and the nauseous feeling returns as I slide over to make room for her in the double bed.

Are we really going to do this? Melissa might frustrate me to no end, but she’s a beautiful woman and my body doesn’t discriminate.

Did I truly ask her to join me in my bed? What was I thinking?

Cold air briefly hits me as the covers lift, and then Melissa’s soft, warm body is snuggling into my side. I shift my arm so it’s curled around her, and she lays her head on my shoulder as I settle the covers over us with my free arm.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Anytime.” I try not to think about how right it feels to be cozied up with her.

I wake to a loud scraping sound from outside. When I open one eye, I discover faint light filtering through the gap in the curtains as Melissa lifts her head off my shoulder.

“What’s that horrible sound?” she says in a raspy voice.

I shake my head to try to clear it. “Snowplow, maybe? ”

She drops her head back down. “Yep, that’s it. And there’s light outside.”

“Yeah, but it’s freezing in here and the lights aren’t on, so no power yet.”

I’m surprised Melissa didn’t jerk away from me when she awoke, since she’s more firmly curled around me now than when she joined me last night, but she’s not taking any action to remove herself from my body.

Not that I’m complaining. I can’t remember the last time I awoke to a beautiful woman in my arms. My hands itch to caress her, and my fingers twitch as I consider threading them through her soft brown hair and wonder how she’d respond.

Instead, I lift the arm that’s not around her to look at my watch.

It’s 7:15. I’m shocked we slept so long, considering how early it was when we fell asleep.

“You think they’ve cleared the highway yet?” she mumbles into my sweater.

“If somebody is plowing the parking lot, I’m guessing the roads are somewhat clear. I’ll get up in a minute and make my way down to the office to see if Wanda is there and can give me an update.”

“Don’t leave me,” she says, clutching me even tighter. “You’re the only thing keeping me warm.”

I smile. “Well, we do need to get to Arkansas. That’s why we’re here, if you recall.”

“Stupid cancelled flight,” she says.

“Isn’t this road trip more fun than that flight would’ve been?”

“It’s more something.” The tone of her voice reveals she agrees with my assessment, though.

“If that flight had happened, you would’ve never learned how charming I can be,” I tease.

“You’re not charming.”

I chuckle. “You told me I was last night. And you can’t deny I’m warm.”

She snuggles in even closer to me, if that’s possible. “You are.” After a few seconds, she says, “We’re not telling anyone about this, right? ”

“What? You don’t want anyone to know we slept together? I’m offended.” I keep my tone light so she’ll know I’m kidding.

“We didn’t sleep together!”

“I beg to differ. We’re together in the same bed, with you clinging to me for dear life, and we slept. We literally slept together.”

“I’m not clinging!” Ironically, she grips me tighter.

“Totally clinging.”

“Okay, fine. I’m clinging. I need your body heat in this frozen tundra of a trucker hotel bed.”

“Well,” I say reluctantly, “you’re going to have to get used to surviving without me, because I’m about to get up.”