Looking at herself, Paige loathed her forced choice of apparel even more. With a stammered “excuse me,” she turned to walk away.
But the stupid heels did her in.
She felt her ankle turn in an almost unnatural way and she knew she was going down and willed herself not to cry.
Strong arms came around her immediately and prevented her from face-planting on the carpet. All the breath whooshed out of her as Paige found herself pressed against Dylan’s chest.
Even though all she wanted to do was cling to him and linger, she gave Dylan a shove to put some distance between them.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
Honestly? She wasn’t. Her ankle was killing her, and she was embarrassed and annoyed at her sister’s presentation and had hoped that she could lean on Dylan while she cried about how unfair it all was.
Seeing him with this bedazzled, blond nightmare and one of his cronies, Paige realized that Dylan was only nice to her because he had to be. She was the key to his staying on this campaign and completing his community service. Nothing more.
And that bothered her.
More than she had thought it would.
She had been seeing them as becoming friends. She enjoyed talking to him and spending time with him and in all those times together, she had started to forget who he was.
Witnessing this little encounter brought it all back.
And she hated it.
“I’m fine,” she lied with a mirthless laugh. “I knew these shoes would do me in.”
Dylan gave her a smile—one that she liked looking at usually—and Paige had to force herself to look away. Clearing her throat, she went on, “So I’m going to throw in the towel and kick them off and call it a night. I appreciate you coming and supporting the cause.”
He frowned at her. “You’re leaving?”
She let out a sigh. “I wasn’t needed here, was I? I mean, I didn’t have to give a presentation, and I was left out of the speech altogether so…” She shrugged. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it sounds like you have plans and I think I need some ice.”
He reached for her—she knew he did—but with her head held high, she walked away. Every step hurt like crazy, but she didn’t stop. With her eyes focused on the exit, she did the one thing she’d never done before.
She shirked her responsibilities and didn’t care.
It was a first for her. She took her position seriously and knew how important it was to present the happy family–united front image. Well, not tonight! Tonight she was going to kick off her shoes as soon as she found a quiet spot outside of the banquet room and drive herself home barefoot.
Click-clack-click-clack—her heels made that annoying sound with every step she took. People were out in the halls and she smiled but kept up her determined stride until she made it to the lobby. There she found an upholstered bench against the wall—which luckily was bookended by large potted plants—and gently took the shoes off. Her right ankle was already starting to swell, and she knew driving was going to be painful.
“I have to get home and then I can ice it and everything will be all right,” she said to herself. Gingerly, she got to her feet and instantly winced.
She managed to walk all of two steps when Dylan stepped in front of her. She gasped and looked up at his face.
His very angry face.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded.
“Me?” she cried. “What are you talking about?”
“You just walked out of the event that you planned! People were calling after you and you didn’t even slow down!”
Had they? She hadn’t noticed.
“I was done,” she said simply. “I’m tired, and now my ankle hurts, and as I said a few minutes ago, I wasn’t needed. I didn’t think it was a big deal to leave.”
The look Dylan gave her showed that he didn’t believe her one bit. “Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Paige, if there is one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that everything is a big deal to you—especially this literacy thing. So don’t bullshit me, okay? If you’re pissed about your sister stealing your thunder, then just say so. I’m not gonna argue with you on that one. I think it was a rotten thing for her to do.”
Part of her melted a little at his words, but she already knew he was on her side where that was concerned. And rather than feel good about it, she forced herself to remember that he had plans of his own—with people who were more suited for someone like him.
“Don’t you have a limo waiting for you?” she asked mildly.
“A limo?” he repeated. “Why would I have a limo? I have a room upstairs.”
Right. Because why wait to party in a limo when he could have a party of his own in three minutes in the privacy of his suite.
God, how she hated this!
“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” she murmured and went to move around him. “I need to go.” In the back of her mind, Paige was prepared to make a glorious exit with her dignity intact.
Her ankle, however, had other plans.
One step. It took one stupid step to make her cry out in pain.
Before she knew it, Dylan scooped her up in his arms and made his way toward the elevator. “Wait! What are you doing?” she demanded, wiggling against him. “My car is that way!” Pointing at the entrance to the hotel for emphasis, she tried to get out of his grasp. “I need to get my valet ticket and…”
The elevator dinged its arrival.
Dylan stepped inside and hit a button, and Paige hit him in the shoulder.
“Ow! Seriously, what the hell, Paige? What’s gotten into you?”
“I am not going up to your room, Dylan!”
“And why not?” he shouted at her.
“Because I’m not into partying with your friends or threesomes, that’s why!”
You could have heard a pin drop.
Slowly, Dylan lowered her to her feet, and this time she was prepared and babied her ankle when her foot hit the carpet.
“Um…excuse me?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.
Hands on her hips, she knew she would emerge victorious here. “I don’t party.” There. She’d said it.
He nodded. “Um…yeah. I get that. But what was that other…um…thing you mentioned?”
“Threesomes. I’m not into them.”
“And…who’s having a threesome?”
She snorted with disgust. “Right. Because the blond with the limo isn’t up here, right? You left her and her…her…offer to come chase after me? Somehow I doubt it.”
He didn’t say a word. For the life of her, she seriously thought he’d argue with her. That he’d demand to know why she would think that or he’d tell her she was crazy because no man could turn down an offer to go out on the town with a supermodel.
But he didn’t.
When the elevator came to a stop, he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently led her from it and down the hall toward his room. She wanted to argue that she didn’t want to go, but she was in pain and wanted some ice and maybe some ibuprofen.
He slid the key card into the slot and then opened the door and helped her inside. Paige braced herself to see a naked woman on the bed, and had to admit, she was confused when she didn’t see the blond from downstairs.
Or anyone.
She was about to comment on it when Dylan helped her onto the couch and then arranged some throw pillows for her to put her foot up on. Then he walked over to the phone, and she heard him call the front desk. Her head was pounding as she let it roll back on the sofa. She closed her eyes and wanted to die of embarrassment.
No supermodel.
No party.
No threesome.
And she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of him.
Great.
Her crap
tastic night was complete.
She could hear Dylan moving around in the suite but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes to see what he was doing. He was quiet—like he was in stealth mode—and yet all she could do was pray that she was having a nightmare and eventually she’d wake up.
A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the door, and she braced herself for what was coming. Was it room service? Concierge? The supermodel?
Dylan’s soft footsteps walked across the room, and she heard him thank whoever was at the door and then…she opened her eyes and turned her head and stared.
“Paige, this is Dr. Solanki. She’s the hotel’s concierge doctor. She’s here to look at your ankle.”
He’d called for a doctor? Seriously?
“Um…I’m sure it’s fine,” Paige said nervously, hating how now she’d have to add showing her fear of doctors to her repertoire of embarrassments for the evening. “I just twisted it. A little ice and some ibuprofen and it will be fine. Really.” And then to try to prove her point, she stood.
And cried out.
Dammit, why didn’t she learn?
“Okay, okay, let’s take a look,” the doctor said as she stepped forward. Paige had to admit, she didn’t seem all that intimidating—she looked close to Paige’s age and had big, brown eyes and a calm voice. All in all, very different from Paige’s own family physician—old and grouchy, like Yosemite Sam.
For the next several minutes, Paige answered questions about how she twisted it, what hurt and what didn’t as the doctor gently moved her foot this way and that. When she finally stood, she looked down at Paige and smiled.
“You twisted it pretty good, but I agree with your earlier observation—ice it, ibuprofen, and rest. And you should stay off it for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Thank you,” both Dylan and Paige said at the same time. Paige looked at him but noticed that he wasn’t smiling—probably trying to figure out how to get her home if she wasn’t supposed to walk.
With a wave and a wish for a good night, Dr. Solanki left as room service appeared. She noticed Dylan accepting the two buckets of ice and what looked like a bag or pack to put it in. When he closed the door, he walked into the suite and went about fixing her an ice pack before coming over and putting it on her foot for her.
All without a word.
Then he handed her a bottle of water and a couple of ibuprofen tablets.
Without a word.
Okay, what was she supposed to say? She’d jumped to conclusions and said some stupid things and acted like a brat. Maybe she should just…
Dylan was setting up a chessboard on the sofa and then sat. He made the first move and then waited.
This was it? He wasn’t going to talk? They were supposed to play chess? Fine. She’d play along—literally and figuratively.
She moved.
Then Dylan moved.
And she moved again.
The silence was maddening.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” she finally blurted out. “I…shouldn’t have accused you of bringing me up here for…well…you know. It was ridiculous.” When she finally forced herself to look at him, she saw sadness in his eyes.
Wait…sad? Why?
“I know you would never do that with me,” she went on. “Especially not with me. But that doesn’t give me the right to pass judgment. So…I’m sorry.”
Dylan’s expression went from sad to angry, and for the life of her, she was even more confused than she was five seconds ago.
“What did you mean by that?” he asked, his voice deadly calm, but Paige could tell his teeth were clenched.
“By…by what?”
“Especially not with you. What was that supposed to mean?”
Groaning, her head fell on the couch. Seriously? Hadn’t she been through enough tonight? With a sigh of resignation, she faced him—and the music. “Look, I’m not blind, Dylan. I know who I am and what I look like and what kind of man I attract. I’m certainly not a supermodel, and I have never invited anyone to get naked in a limo.”
“Jesus, Paige.”
“No…no…it’s okay. I’m okay with it. Really. I told you when we first met that I had looked you up online, so I know the kind of women you…you’re…well, that you spend time with. So the thought of you bringing me up here to…you know…was just crazy on my part. And stupid. And ridiculous,” she added because she couldn’t make herself stop talking. “And…”
Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a very long breath before he looked at her. “In the spirit of honesty, let me start by agreeing with you—you’re crazy.”
She couldn’t help the gasp that came out.
“But not for the reasons you seem to think,” he quickly added. “That woman you saw talking to me downstairs? She’s been dating that guy, Steve, who was standing there with us. If memory serves, they’ve been together for years. The offer was to go out and party, yes. But it was also to go out and jam somewhere. That’s it.”
The eye roll she gave him also couldn’t be helped.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…believe what you want, but I’m telling you the truth. When Morgan came up to me and introduced herself…” He shrugged. “There was nothing she was going to offer, her or Steve, that held any appeal to me. That part of my life is over and… I don’t know. I’m not willing to tempt fate and put myself in situations like that. At least not yet.”
“Dylan, come on. I’m not a moron. Drinking aside, you had to at least have some interest in hanging out with them. He’s a fellow musician, she’s gorgeous, and…”
He shook his head. “And shallow and vain and someone who likes being in the tabloids. Like I said, not interested.”
Who was Paige to argue with that? He sounded pretty earnest, so she didn’t have a choice but to believe him.
“However,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “the reason I think you’re crazy is because you’re not seeing what everyone else is seeing where you’re concerned.”
She frowned at him. “Excuse me?”
He nodded. “You are this amazing woman—you’re smart and funny and talented…”
Oh God, here it comes, she thought. The whole “you’re a good friend” speech.
“And you’re beautiful.”
Wait…what?
When her wide eyes stared at him, Dylan nodded again. “It’s true, Paige. You are a beautiful woman. Why don’t you see that?”
And then it hit her, the whole glam-squad-makeover thing.
Stupid beauty fairies. She’d like to kick their well-toned asses right about now.
“I get it,” she said. “This whole get-up tonight… Yeah. Everyone thought I looked great. But you know what? I hate it. This isn’t a dress I would ever wear, and I think we can both agree on why I shouldn’t wear stilettos. And all this makeup? I feel like I’m wearing a mask! So great, everyone thought I looked beautiful tonight, and that pisses me off!” she cried.
And then felt herself almost starting to cry.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said soothingly, wiping away the stray tear rolling down her cheek. “That’s not what I meant, Paige. It wasn’t just about tonight.”
“Right,” she scoffed. “You, Dylan Anders, who’s dated some of the most glamorous women in the world, finds me attractive. I’m sure.”
“Why is that so hard for you to believe?” he asked, and she could tell he was seriously confused by her reaction.
“You know what? It’s nothing. Never mind.” She looked down at the chessboard. “I believe it’s your move.”
Honestly, she thought he’d put up more of a fight. But he didn’t. Instead, for the next thirty minutes, they played chess.
In total silence.
Until he clearly couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why can’t you accept that you’re beaut
iful even when you don’t have all this?” He waved to indicate her dress and hair and makeup.
“Why can’t we let this go?”
“Because it’s ridiculous,” he countered.
“Exactly! Which is why we need to move on.” She made her move and immediately realized she’d made it possible for Dylan to win.
But he wasn’t looking at the board; he was looking at her. “It’s ridiculous because for such a smart woman, you’re being obtuse.”
“Obtuse?” she parroted. “You’re calling me obtuse?”
“I am.”
She needed to call his bluff and shut him up. And remarkably, her suggestion was out before she had a chance to think about it. “Kiss me.”
Dylan’s eyes went wide and his back straightened. “What?”
Paige gave him a knowing smirk. “Kiss me. If I’m so beautiful…if I’m so attractive, prove it. Kiss me.”
“I’m not going to kiss you, Paige.”
And darn it, she didn’t want to be disappointed, but she was. It was a stupid idea and yet…she’d wanted him to kiss her—even if it was just to prove a point.
Rather than show how upset she was, she continued with her point. Whatever it was. “Exactly. Because you don’t find me attractive. And that’s why you wouldn’t bring me up here for…you know.”
“Of for crying out loud, Paige, it’s threesome! You can say threesome. You shouted it at me in the elevator.”
“I don’t need to say…it,” she replied. “It’s not important.”
“Then why do you keep bringing it up?” he said with a grin.
Great. Now he wanted to discuss threesomes with her? Why wasn’t this ice working? Why couldn’t she go home?
“I’m done bringing it up,” she said after a long moment. “Actually, I’d like to go home.” Flexing her foot, she couldn’t help but wince.
“You know you can’t drive like that.”
“I don’t have a choice. Although I guess I can call for a cab or an Uber or something.”
“Just…stay here tonight. I’m sure by the morning your foot will feel better.”
Stay here? In his room? Was he serious? Which is exactly what she asked him.
“I’m a bit wired from the party. It was the first time I’ve gone to something like that since rehab. It felt weird, and my mind’s been racing, so I’m probably not going to sleep tonight. You can take the bed. I’m going to end up watching TV all night anyway.”
Holiday Spice Page 42
