Rule #12: Who needs two beds? Sometimes one is plenty.
Hunter
“There should be two rooms.”
The man behind the counter types on his keyboard again, but reluctantly shakes his head when he doesn’t have any good news to give me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Scott. There’s only one king room on this reservation.”
“Everything else is booked,” Isabel adds from next to me. “Not even the seedy hotels have rooms available.”
“There’s a jazz fest this weekend and they’ve booked up all our hotels,” the man explains. “It’s busier than Mardi Gras.”
“Is that why you gave away our second room?” I grumble, glaring at the concierge.
“Hunter…” Isabel says in warning.
We’re just outside New Orleans, and after a long, awkward ride in the car all day, the last thing I need is to fight with the hotel staff. Drake has been uncharacteristically quiet since last night. I didn’t want it to be this way. I’m not going to make him sleep with Isabel if he really doesn’t want to, whether we made a deal or not—I’m not a monster. But I just wish he’d get on board with the idea. Because I know he wants it. I saw the look in his eyes last night when he was kissing her against the wall. I saw the fire between them, chemistry like I’ve never seen before, and it was hot as fuck.
The forbidden nature of it all makes it that much better. I can only imagine what his hand was doing up her dress, and maybe he’s right. Maybe I should be more angry about another man being inside her, but I’m not. I’m fucking turned on as hell.
“Come on, honey. We can make it work.”
“One bed for all three of us? Drake takes up a king-size bed by himself,” I argue.
“The only other option is to skip the club tomorrow night and just move on to Nashville today.”
I groan. “We’ve been in the car all day. I really don’t want to drive more.”
“So, let’s just take the room.”
With a sigh and an eye-roll, I look at the concierge as I say, “Fine. Give us the room.”
He forces a tight smile and clicks on his computer. “Yes, sir.”
Drake is sitting alone in the car, and I glance out the tall glass doors of the lobby and watch him. He looks nervous. Maybe sleeping in the same room will help loosen him up. I know once he lets go of all of his worry, he’ll see how good this can be. He’s done much crazier things.
After getting our key to the room, Isabel and I head back out to the car.
“Well…” I say as I drop into the passenger seat. “They only have one room.”
He stares at me like he’s waiting for me to explain.
“With one bed,” Isabel adds.
“You’re kidding,” Drake replies.
“Sleepover,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t look entertained. With a heavy sigh, he drives the car around to an empty parking space.
When we get into the room, Isabel goes straight for the shower, leaving me and Drake alone in our awkwardness. He doesn’t even hesitate as he reaches for the bottle of tequila he packed in his bag.
I open the minibar and find some cold beers, so I grab one out and pop the top. It’s funny to think I would have never paid twelve dollars for one hotel beer ten years ago, but we’ve come a long way.
“Room service?” I ask, grabbing the menu.
“I’m not hungry,” he mutters after swallowing down a shot without so much as a wince.
With a scoff, I toss the menu down in front of him. Isabel is still in the shower, so she can’t hear us. If she could, I wouldn’t be so hard on him because she’s always trying to protect him or go easy on him, but right now, I’m done with his attitude.
“All right, fine…” I mumble.
“What?”
“Deal’s off. If you’re going to keep brooding about it, then we can pretend I never said anything. Okay?”
With a scowl, he pours another glass. “I wish I could forget it, Hunt.”
“What is your problem? There’s no damage done.”
“What about last night?” he asks, looking offended.
“What? One kiss?”
He takes the second shot and stalks over to the fridge to take out the other cold beer. “Drake, just fucking talk to me.”
When he finally turns toward me, I’m surprised to see the hurt in his eyes. “You assume that I just fuck anyone, anytime, and my feelings don’t get involved.”