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“Lincoln, we can’t—”
He holds up a hand to cut me off. “I know it’s a terrible idea, but there aren’t any rooms available anywhere. Mine is comped because of my role in the ceremony, so just…stay with me. It’ll give me a good critic to practice my speech on anyway.”
I laugh. “Oh, I can definitely be a good critic. Are you sure?”
“Don’t ask again or I’m rescinding the offer.” He raises his brows pointedly.
“I don’t want to be in your debt.”
“You won’t. You’re covering this story. It’s just a place to sleep, okay?” He shrugs.
I nod. “Thank you.”
We head up to his suite, and we find a nice corner room with a wraparound window…but I’m not sure why it’s called a suite other than the window. It’s a regular hotel room—a little on the small side, actually, and it has only one bed, a small desk with a rolling chair, and a sitting chair in the corner.
That’s it.
No couch—not even a comfy chair to try to sleep in.
I stare at the bed as I try to come up with something to say. “Lincoln, I—"
He shakes his head. “This is strictly business, Jolene. I don’t want this any more than you do.”
“Then why’d you offer it?”
He shrugs. “You were yelling at that poor agent, and I felt bad for her.”
I purse my lips and offer a glare.
He chuckles. “Let’s just make the best of it, okay? I have work to do.” He grabs his tablet and sits on the bed. He shifts the pillows until he gets them just how he wants them, kicks off his shoes, and swings his legs up onto the bed. He leans against the pillows and taps away on his tablet.
I sigh, and then I get my own laptop out and sit at the desk to get some work done myself after firing off a text to Marcus to let him know I didn’t get a room but Nash invited me to stay with him.
This is going to be a long, hard weekend where I fight against my feelings even more than I have been since he was hired.
With only one bed.
CHAPTER 8: JOLENE
I can’t take the tension in this room.
It’s some strange combination of hate and sex. Maybe we should just have hate sex to get it out of our systems.
Now there’s an idea…
I just need to get out of here a while, so I decide to head down to the lobby bar to grab a drink and maybe something to eat.
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to invite him or ask him to come with me or not say a word at all. We’re not friends, but we’re not just acquaintances, either. I don’t want to share a room with him, and I certainly don’t want to share a meal with him either.
All I know is I need to get away from him, and inviting him to come with me would defeat that.
“I’m going to find something to eat,” I finally announce, and I bolt from the room without waiting for a response.
The lobby is still packed with people, and I wade through a crowd of people to get to the bar. There’s nowhere to sit, but it’s fine. I’ll order a drink, wait for some food, and take it somewhere else.
It takes a solid few minutes before the bartender even looks at me. “Vodka cranberry, please. Light cranberry, heavy vodka, and a lime.”
The bartender nods, and the guy sitting on the stool beside me starts to laugh. I can smell the stale beer on his breath the second I turn to glance in his direction.
