“We’re good then,” Deiss says firmly. “Sorry to take up your time.”
Before he’s even done speaking, the woman is nodding and offering a kind smile as she slams the door in our faces.
I stand there stunned for a moment, my eyes tracing the worn wooden rectangle in front of me. The touch of Deiss’s hand on the small of my back jolts me out of my reverie. It’s warm and firm, and completely unexpected.
“Let’s go,” he says, already guiding me back to the car. “There are two beds in my room. You’ll stay there.”
I shrink at the suggestion. There’s no way I’m allowing Deiss to see me without makeup on, in the harsh light of morning with unbrushed teeth and hair. I wouldn’t even let Phoebe see that. I don’t care how out of character I’ve been behaving. There’s a reason I haven’t had a roommate since college, and why I prefer not to spend the night with the men I date. Nobody can hold their head up high in front of someone who has seen it resting in a pool of drool on their own pillow.
“I can’t stay with you,” I say once we’re back in the car with the engine running.
“Sure you can,” he says confidently.
“I’ll ask Phoebe if I can stay with her.” The compromise offers no relief. Even if I didn’t mind Phoebe seeing my drool, I don’t want to be a burden on her. That kind of weakness ruins things, changing a relationship forever.
“Perfect,” Deiss says. “Just out of curiosity, do you think Mac will try to talk you into sleeping in his bed, or are you assuming the idea of two beautiful women on the bed next to him will be enough to make him opt for legroom?”
My stomach sinks. “Phoebe and Mac are staying together?”
“Yep.”
“You could have just said that.”
“I could’ve.” Deiss looks unfazed by the glare I shoot him. He pulls the car back onto the road, leaving the “guesthouse” behind.
“I can’t stay in your room, Deiss.”
“Then stay in Simone’s.” He offers the suggestion as if we weren’t both witness to the Sister Standoff of 2016, in which Simone and her little sister stopped speaking for nine whole months because Ashley showed up for a weekend visit. “She breathed like a crank caller,” Simone would grumble every time one of us would try to remind her how much she loves her only sibling. “She never breathes like that in public. It’s like she saved it all up and then came into my beautiful apartment and exhaled every germ she’d accumulated over the past month.” Her face would scrunch up with disgust. “And did I mention that she brought coffee inside? My living room smelled like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting for days after she finally left.”
“I will,” I say, convincing myself as much as him. “It’s one night. I’ll just wait until breakfast to drink any coffee.”
“And,” he prompts.
“And I’ll keep my breathing to a minimum.”
“And . . .”
It takes a minute to figure out what he’s referring to. Once I do, I shake my head.
“She doesn’t still do that,” I say. “She’s an adult now.”
“An adult who needs Disney music playing at full volume in order to sleep.” He smiles. “I could hear it from my balcony last night.”
I exhale loudly, my eyes fluttering closed. I am so unbelievably tired.
“Just stay with me,” Deiss says. “What’s the issue? It’s not like I’m going to cop a feel. You’d spear me with icicles if I tried.”
“I would not.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“I’d use ice rays,” I say. “They beam out from my eyes.”
“See?” He grins. “You know I’m a self-preservationist. There’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about.”
Except waking up and accidentally torching you with my dragon’s breath.
“It’s settled then,” Deiss says, choosing to take my silence as affirmation. “You’ll stay with me, at least for tonight. Then tomorrow, when you haven’t just traveled from one continent to another and I haven’t spent six hours behind the wheel of a car, we’ll look into alternative options.”
“Right.” I don’t even think about what I’m agreeing to. I’m too distracted by the reminder that Deiss has wasted an entire day of his vacation on me. Of course he wants to get this settled so he doesn’t have to feel obligated to spend even more of his time finding a new place for me to stay. “Thank you,” I add, flushing with embarrassment. I can’t believe I’ve allowed myself to become such a burden. A needy woman is a weak woman. I know this, yet I’ve shown up on a trip where no one was expecting me and have forced them to take care of me.