Page 9

Tina

I mmediately after landing, I’m informed by my new boss that one of my first duties as his assistant is to collect our luggage. After some discreet eye-rolling, I spin on my sensible flats and head for the baggage claim.

I refuse to let Dustin’s grumpy ass ruin my first trip away from home. Speaking of home, I take my phone off airplane mode and send off a text letting Gramps know we arrived safely. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dustin’s metallic luggage followed closely by the battered one I got from the thrift store. Only hours into my new job and I can already tell this is how it’ll be for me on this trip—running around in circles. But I’ve survived worse.

I hoist one suitcase and then the other off the machine and begin stumbling along, keeping my eye on Dustin in the distance, afraid if I lose him in the crowd, he won’t notice I’m missing until hours later when he realizes he has no clothes.

Up ahead, Dustin makes a phone call, grumbling under his breath while it rings. I’m not the least bit surprised to discover he’s one of those annoying people who talks with his phone on speaker while out in public, like everyone should be grateful for hearing his conversation. Seeing as how Dustin hasn’t said more than a few words to me so far this trip, this could be a good thing for me. At least this way, I’ll be privy to information I otherwise wouldn’t be.

“How long?” Dustin barks into the phone. A few people give him and his nastiness a wide berth.

“Hello to you too.”

I recognize the deep voice on the other line as belonging to Christian. I struggle with my armload, weaving through people.

“How. Long?” Dustin punches both words into the receiver.

“I’m not sure,” Christian admits. “A couple of nights maybe?”

Dustin curses. “Maybe?”

“I’m working on it,” Christian promises. “I thought the house was a sure thing. Turns out I was wrong.”

“Clearly.”

I’m not sure what’s happening, but whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good. We exit through some sliding doors and a wave of hot air washes over me. I regret my decision to wear a sweater the instant I feel the first dribble of sweat between my breasts. If this is any sign of how the weather will be during our stay, I’ll need to purchase new clothes. I’m so busy contemplating where the money will come from that when Dustin stops abruptly in front of me there’s no stopping the pending collision. I brace for impact by closing my eyes and hoping for the best.

It’s like running into a brick wall. My stomach slams into the firm globes of his butt, knocking the air out of my lungs. My nose burrows in the valley of his spine and I’m hit with his intoxicating scent. Christ, it should be against the law for someone who is such a turd to smell this good. Figuring I deserve at least a sniff or two in compensation for his bad attitude, I take them without shame.

He stiffens and his back twitches against my nose. He grumbles something that sounds like “Clumsy,” before putting some distance between us. I make myself feel better by making a face at his back.

While he finishes his call, I wait like a good little assistant for further instructions. I use the time to give my arms a break and wipe my damp forehead with the sleeve of my sweater. Someone walks by eating a sandwich and my stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since last night. I was too nervous about sitting so close to Dustin, knowing he wasn’t a big fan of working together. If I’d only known he had other plans, I would’ve had the stack of pancakes Gramps offered.

Suddenly, Dustin throws his free hand in the air, almost knocking someone in the head. “Who the fuck thought opening the gym and office during the football draft was a good idea?”

Christian sighs. “Not important.”

“Says the man who’s happy with his sleeping arrangements.”

Ouch.

I remind myself over and over that I need the money more than I need Dustin’s approval or kindness. Even so, I still feel the sting of his words. Whoever said “Words will never hurt me” didn’t have a Dustin in their lives.

“Lucius and Rosaline will be there soon,” Christian says. “You guys won’t be alone for long.”

See? Here’s a prime example of how in the dark I’ve been, because this is the first time I’ve heard of this. Everyone knows of Lucius, the club and gym owner who screams “dark and dangerous” without saying a word. He’s come into the restaurant a few times with Christian and his wife Frankie, but other than telling me his order, he hardly spoke to me. As for Rosaline, I’ve seen her around town before. She’s hard to miss with her gorgeous, long blonde hair and perfect honey skin. If anyone’s looks could stop traffic, it’d be hers. The idea of having an ally on this trip is encouraging. Then a thought occurs to me. What if she and Dustin become a thing? I mean, he’s proven he can’t keep his pants zipped for long, and being cooped up in a house with flat surfaces might be too convenient for him to pass on.

My stomach growls for attention again.

Dustin hangs up and drags a hand down his face. He looks so exhausted I have this weird urge to massage his stress away. Ha. As if he’d let me. He’d probably say I was the cause of his misery.

“Here,” Dustin says, shoving a protein bar at my chest. I fumble for it, barely saving it from falling onto the cement walkway. When I thank him, he doesn’t even spare me a glance. “You’re no use to me weak and unfocused.”

Admittedly, they weren’t the nicest, but they were a whole nine words, so I’d say we’re making progress. The thought is so ridiculous, a laugh bubbles out of me. The grumpy frown he aims at me only makes me laugh harder.

As first impressions go, the dungeon-like hotel room isn’t a great one. During the ride from the airport, I learned (from more eavesdropping) that the original house Ben arranged for us has been double-booked. With the NFL draft this weekend, most hotels are full, which is why we ended up on the old Strip where not many vacationers prefer to stay. To make matters worse, there is only one room available.

One room.

One queen bed.

One very unhappy Dustin.

The heavy door to the room shuts with finality, making me jump. The walls seem to shrink, adding to the pressure building in my chest. I remain rooted in the middle of the muddy-brown box while Dustin moves around the room, opening the curtains and fiddling with the air conditioning unit. It sputters and hisses before coming on with a whoosh of cool air. I feel his eyes on me like an itch between my shoulder blades and I fight the urge to squirm. It dawns on me then that I haven’t been alone in a bedroom with a man since Connor.

I focus on the carpet, getting lost in the trippy design. It’s hideous, but it does the trick. Instead of freaking out, I’m puzzling out why anyone would think this style was appealing.

There’s a shrug in Dustin’s voice when he speaks. “I read once that the carpet design choice makes it easier to disguise spills. It keeps up appearances.”

A laugh bubbles up my throat. Oh, my God, I’m like this carpet. I go through life pretending nothing is wrong. Pretending that I’m not confused over Connor, that I’m not sick with worry about bills and Gramps’s health. Pretending that I’m not lonely. I’m curves and shapes, hoping no one sees the ugly stains beneath.

Needing to do something with my hands, I set my suitcase on the designated stand. So what if it’s not the Bellagio? At least we found a hotel room. I pick up the complimentary earplugs on the nightstand and sigh. Looks like we’re in for a bumpy ride.

“It’s only two days,” Dustin mutters.

When I peek at him, his eyes are closed and his fists are clenched at his sides. He looks furious. My own anger replaces the earlier unease. “What, you can share a shoebox-sized bathroom with a flight attendant you don’t even know, but not a room with me?” I start unpacking my toiletries, throwing them on the bed, madder than I’ve been in… well, ever.

He neither denies nor confirms my accusation only scoffs. “Jealous?”

“Pfft, hardly. Just make sure you stay on your side of the bed. Who knows all the places your…”—I motion to his crotch—“has been. I wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Even though I know he’s mocking me, it’s a good sound, a familiar one, and my lips twitch in response. Then he speaks and ruins it. “It’s a cock , mouse.”

And here I thought being called Fanny was the worst thing.

He cups himself and I look away, surprised at the heat brewing in my belly. His voice is a lot lower when he speaks again. “A dick . Say it.”

I glare at him from the other side of the bed, feeling safe with the barrier. “ You’re a dick.” I’m shocked at how good it feels to say it out loud. Don’t admit it to him. His head is big enough as it is.

“Oh, it’s definitely big enough,” he says with a chuckle.

I curse my habit of thinking out loud sometimes and say, “You’re so crude.”

“The best fucks are.” He licks his lips, and I fixate on them. They’re smooth and deep pink and just so kissable.

What? I shake my head. Why in the world would I want to kiss the big jerk?

His perfect lips curve in a devilish smile. “You should try it sometime. It might loosen you up.”

I cross my arms over my chest to hide how hard my nipples have become and raise my chin. “You have no idea how loose I am.”

His lids lower and I feel like I just dangled a juicy piece of meat in front of a hungry animal. He takes a step towards me and his shins bump into the mattress. He looks down with a snarl, like the mattress offended him, before returning his gaze to my face. Slow and predatory, he places one knee on the bed, followed by the other.

He was ruthless in the ring during his fight, like nothing could stop him from winning. Watching his singular focus on me now makes me wonder how it all translates in bed. Would he whisper sweet nothings or growl orders? Growl. Definitely growl. I don’t hate the idea.

I remember how I was someone else when I had sex with Connor, saying and doing things in the dark I never could’ve imagined myself capable of. Sometimes, I lie in bed at night, playing the memory over in my head. It’s the only way I can bring myself pleasure these days. Finding that kind of passion again with someone new seemed like wishful thinking… until now.

Dustin is on all fours, crawling with aching slowness across the bed. He should look ridiculous, laughable even, but laughing is so far from my mind it’s a continent away.

I take two steps back. “W…what are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything between us for this conversation, mouse. Hold still.”