‘I’m terribly sorry, sir,’ the hotel employee said. ‘We only have one room booked under this name.’
‘I remember booking two rooms, though. It said “Twin suite” when I booked it, and it suggested the rooms were adjoining.’
‘Ah.’ The young woman smiled. ‘I see. Twin means two beds, not two rooms. Some of them do have a door to an adjoining room, but you still need to book two rooms.’
Tom frowned, and Chelsea stepped up to the desk. Tom had made an honest mistake, and Chelsea didn’t want him to feel any worse than he already did.
‘That’s alright,’ Chelsea said. ‘These things happen. Do you have another room available, please?’
The woman matched Tom’s frown while she brought up what must have been the booking system on the screen facing her. Tom and Chelsea waited awkwardly while she stared intently at it for at least a minute.
The young woman, who Chelsea noted was called Sara according to her name badge, smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m terribly sorry. But we’re completely booked. This often happens when we have a big concert in the area.’
‘That’s alright,’ Chelsea said. It wasn’t the end of the world. ‘Maybe one of the other hotels has a room vacant tonight. We can go and ask.’
The woman picked up a phone that had been out of view beneath the desk. ‘Let me. I can make a few calls, but I must warn you that if we’re booked out, the other hotels may be as well.’
‘That would be helpful,’ Chelsea replied, doing her best to sound cheerful.
Poor Tom. He’d gone to such lengths to make this the perfect night for her, and now a simple mistake was putting a spanner in the works.
He shot her an “I’m sorry” look, and she touched his arm.
“It’s OK”, she mouthed as Sara made some calls. They moved away while Sara spoke on the phone, not wanting to stand over her.
Five minutes later, Sara beckoned them back and her expression was still sympathetic.
‘I’m sorry, but I had no luck.’
Tom sighed, and Chelsea was quick to try to smooth things over.
‘Really, it’s OK. We’ll manage. You said the room was a Twin room, didn’t you? With two beds?’
Sara nodded and referred to the computer screen once more. ‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, hang on.’ She shot them a worried look, and Chelsea didn’t feel quite so positive anymore. ‘We appear to have upgraded you to a King suite.’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary,’ Chelsea said, relieved. ‘The Twin will be fine.’
‘Except the Twin room is no longer available,’ Sara said slowly, then hurried to add, ‘I’d like to offer you both a complimentary breakfast to make up for the miscommunication. The King suite also comes with a spa bath, if that’s any consolation.’
Tom stepped forward. ‘While that’s a kind gesture, I think maybe we should just drive home.’
Chelsea grabbed his arm. ‘Are you sure, Tom? It’s been a really long day. You’ve already driven two hours here tonight after you worked an early shift.’
Tom leaned in close and lowered his voice. ‘What do you suggest? We can’t share a bed.’
A shiver of something tickled Chelsea’s spine. A warning? Expectation?
She didn’t try to put her finger on exactly what it had been, and instead looked into his green eyes. As well as being indescribably lovely, they were completely genuine. Chelsea realised two things in that moment about this week’s nice guy agreement. It had proven what she had known all along about Tom—that she could trust him—and it had also highlighted something else.
That the idea of sharing a bed with him was surprisingly tempting.
But that train of thought was dangerous and absolutely no way to repay Tom’s kindness or thoughtfulness this week, especially after his wonderful surprise tonight. So instead, she would pretend as if everything was completely normal between them, exactly the same as it always had been. Tom was her housemate and friend, nothing more.
Although maybe she had developed a new liking for nice guy fantasies . . .
‘Chelsea?’
Tom was waiting, and Chelsea forced a smile onto her face.
‘It’s no big deal,’ she said. ‘I trust you. You usually sleep in the next room, anyway, and it’s a king bed. We’ll manage.’
‘You could drive my car home?’ he suggested.
Chelsea released a tight sigh. That might be the safest option for her emotionally, but not necessarily when it came to their physical safety.
‘Honestly? I’m pretty tired, and driving at night in an unfamiliar car doesn’t seem like a great idea if we’ve both had a long day.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost twelve thirty.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course. If it gets awkward, I’ll just make you sleep in the spa,’ she joked to lighten the mood.
Chelsea looked up to find Sara smiling at them.
‘We’ll take the room, thanks,’ Chelsea told her, sounding way more confident than she felt.
Chapter Eighteen
Tom followed Chelsea up to the room with their bags.
He was too tired to be annoyed at himself. Instead, a sort of hopelessness had settled over him. So much for making it the perfect night.
To be fair, Chelsea didn’t seem that worried, which was something. If she was OK with it, then he could be, too. In the past, she’d fallen asleep on the sofa plenty of times and Tom had brought her a blanket. They could manage to sleep in the same room together.
But the same bed?
It wasn’t like he was one of those douchebag boyfriends. Guaranteed they would try to make a move on her in this sort of situation despite them being “just friends”. Tom would never do that, but he doubted he’d get much sleep either.
Chelsea swiped the card in the door and the room lit up as soon as she entered.
Chelsea whistled. ‘Come on, you’ve got to admit that it’s a nice upgrade.’ Then she stopped walking and stared past him towards the bathroom. Or what was in front of the bathroom. She giggled, which soon transformed into loud laughter.
She turned back to face him. ‘It’s kind of funny, don’t you think?’
Tom dropped the bags at his feet. ‘My inability to make a hotel room booking or the fact that the spa bath is in the middle of the room?’
‘The last one.’ Chelsea walked over to inspect the prominent water feature some interior designer had thought appropriate to place in the centre of the hotel room. ‘It’s a shame it’s so late or I’d totally have a spa bath.’
Tom’s lungs constricted as the image of a naked Chelsea sitting in the spa bath came into his head. To distract himself, he picked up his bag again and went to put it on the end of the bed to find a change of clothes.
‘I’d just make you take a long walk,’ Chelsea teased.
When he didn’t reply, she came over to him, her face lined with concern.
‘Are you alright? Seriously, don’t worry about the room. It’s really not a problem.’
He nodded. ‘Thanks. I think I’m just tired. I’ll go change.’
With that, he headed towards the bathroom that fortunately still had a door. At least he could use the toilet in peace and get ready for bed. Inside, he put on his boxer shorts and a fresh T-shirt, then scrubbed his face, doing his best not to think about the woman on the other side of the door.
The woman who, after tonight, would go back to being his housemate.
Tom must have been feeling sorry for himself, because he felt a surge of sadness and told himself not to be stupid. Nothing had changed this week with Chelsea. She was still Chelsea who he shared an apartment with. Except he had enjoyed spending time with her more than he’d expected. He knew he always had something of a crush on his mate’s little sister, but until they’d spent some actual time together this week, he hadn’t appreciated how well they got along.
Maybe they could meet for a swim after work or an occasional beer from now on.
He dried his face rough
ly with one of the hotel towels to make himself snap out of it. His mind was entering dangerous territory, and it would be better for everyone if they just went back to the way things were before this week.
With that thought, he tossed the towel on the hook and opened the door.
Then froze.
Chelsea was sitting in the empty spa bath with headphones on and her eyes closed, her fingers tapping on the edge of the bath in time to music he couldn’t hear.
Holy shit.
She’d put that old T-shirt on she often wore to bed, but he saw now that he’d made a fatal error.
No pants.
In winter she wore flannelette pants with the T-shirt, but it was the start of summer and too warm, so he hadn’t bothered to grab any. He’d figured the T-shirt was long enough to cover her, which was both accurate and inaccurate.
It covered the important parts of her, but it didn’t cover her legs. Not by a long shot. It occurred to him now that he’d never seen her wear just the T-shirt around the apartment. He was certain she’d worn shorts of some description. What those shorts looked like, he couldn’t say, because he was currently unable to take his eyes off her gorgeous legs. They were tanned, toned, and strong enough to make him wonder how they’d look wrapped around his neck.
Tom released a strangled noise that Chelsea fortunately didn’t hear through her headphones and strode over to the bed to shove his clothes back in his bag.
What was wrong with him? He’d seen Chelsea at the beach in a swimsuit. What’s more, he’d seen her in that feeble excuse for a red swimsuit and he hadn’t felt like this.
Yeah, that’s because you were in a public place with her, not a private hotel room.
Tom dropped his bag on the floor and threw back the covers of the bed, equal parts disgusted with himself and helpless to stop his train of thought about Chelsea.
‘Your turn,’ he called out to her loud enough that she could hear him.
Her eyes fluttered open and a contented smile teased her lips.
‘Huh?’ She popped an ear bud out. ‘Sorry, I was just reliving tonight. I can’t believe I got to hear them live.’
‘Pretty great, huh?’
It would be pretty great if he managed to get any sleep, but he seriously doubted it. Tom was careful to avert his eyes as she got out of the bath—and yes, his tiny testosterone brain had considered whether or not she was wearing any panties.
‘Tom, are you OK?’
Tom jumped at the sound of her voice right behind him, and he turned to face her slowly.
‘Just beat.’
She nodded. ‘If you’re sure.’ Then she went to collect her bag and closed the bathroom door with a quiet click.
Tom released a tight breath and climbed under the covers. He made sure he was as far over on his side of the bed as possible and reached out to turn his lamp off.
When she came out of the bathroom five minutes later, he had his eyes closed. He wasn’t sleeping. Not a chance. But he could at least pretend to be.
He listened as Chelsea padded around the room softly for a few minutes, doing whatever it was women did before they went to bed. Eventually, the other side of the bed dipped as she climbed underneath the covers. He caught her humming the chorus of one of the songs from the concert under her breath, and found himself smiling.
He remained still and facing away from her. After about ten minutes, her breathing changed, and he knew she’d fallen asleep. He flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
It was going to be a really long night.
Chelsea woke before Tom and snuck into the shower. It was after eight, and she didn’t want to miss out on their free hotel breakfast. Hopefully by the time she was finished, Tom would be up, and they could head downstairs together.
Surprisingly, Chelsea had slept really well. Despite her misgivings about sharing a bed with Tom, she’d fallen asleep quickly. She’d expected to find it difficult with Tom beside her and the post-concert high, but the king size bed was huge, and she hadn’t realised how tired she was.
By the time Chelsea opened the bathroom door, she felt refreshed and happy, despite her stomach grumbling noisily for breakfast. She paused in the doorway when she saw Tom. He was awake and sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his nightclothes, and rubbing his eyes.
‘Good morning, sleepyhead,’ she sang as she returned to her bag to pack her things.
‘Morning,’ he mumbled.
Chelsea had never seen Tom first thing in the morning. Well, at least not straight out of bed. She’d always thought that he was a morning person because, whenever they bumped into each other getting ready for work in the morning, he was always cheerful and bright-eyed. This semi-grumpy version of Tom was actually kind of cute, if you could call it grumpy.
Chelsea hid a smile as she rearranged the small bag to fit her things. ‘We better be quick if we want to get breakfast before it finishes.’
She wasn’t particularly worried. Most guys took short showers, and Chelsea was sure that he could be ready in five minutes.
‘It’s OK,’ he said, still rubbing his eyes. ‘You go without me.’
‘What?’ Chelsea cried, disappointed. ‘You need to eat something. Plus, it’s free.’
The corner of his mouth curled upwards, but he didn’t smile. ‘No, I’ll be OK. I could really do with a long shower before we drive home.’
For the first time that morning, Tom met Chelsea’s eyes, and she registered that he looked exhausted. He had dark circles and his usually bright green eyes were more of a soft mossy green.
‘Gosh, did you sleep?’ Chelsea asked, marching over to him.
He shrugged. ‘Not much. I’m always like this the first night somewhere different.’
‘Damn. We should have driven home. Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged again and stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head to reveal a strip of taut stomach muscles. Chelsea averted her eyes and stepped backwards to give him room, momentarily transported back to the beach when she’d been shocked to see him shirtless. She shook the image away and refocused on his face.
It’s just Tom. It’s only Tom.
‘It was your night, not mine, and you seemed keen to stay here,’ he said.
‘You’re too nice for your own good sometimes, Tom Pierce,’ she admonished, putting her hands on her hips and stepping in close again. ‘Well, no more, OK? Today you’re off the hook. The arrangement is over, so stop worrying about me. Have your long shower and enjoy it. Meanwhile, I’ll go have breakfast and steal as much food as I possibly can so you have something to eat for the trip home. Sound like a plan?’
That earned her another lip curl. ‘You don’t have to steal food for me.’
She grinned at him. ‘You haven’t seen the size of my handbag. I’ll include brunch for myself as well.’
Finally, he smiled properly, and Chelsea’s worry over his poor night’s sleep eased.
Impulsively, she reached up and squeezed his shoulder. ‘I’m serious, Tom. No more Mr. Nice Guy, OK? I mean it.’
His smile faded and those green eyes lit with something, but Chelsea couldn’t tell what. Suddenly unsure of herself, she went to remove her hand, but Tom caught it.
His eyes darkened. ‘Do you really mean that?’
‘What?’ she replied dumbly.
‘No more Mr. Nice Guy.’
‘Oh, that. Yes! Of course.’ She laughed. ‘But what difference does that make to anything? You’re always nice.’
‘Not always.’
The low, deep tone of his voice sent shivers down her legs. She was too shaken by her reaction to him to answer.
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ he asked, his voice still low.
Her hand remained in his, and it felt like her heartbeat was pulsing in her fingertips. She suddenly felt light-headed, which made sense if her heart had relocated to her fingers.
‘You’d have to prove it to me, I guess,’ she replied uncertainly, not sure w
hy he seemed so intent on convincing her that he wasn’t as nice as he so obviously was.
His gaze held her to the spot. ‘The other night, when you asked me to kiss you. Did you mean it?’
Chelsea’s heartbeat zipped from her fingertips and back into her chest, fluttering frantically.
He hadn’t kissed her. But he hadn’t said no.
She closed her eyes briefly, the way you might before you convince yourself to jump from a plane. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, relieved to admit the truth.
This entire week she’d been trying to tell herself that he was “just Tom”, but Tom could never be just anything. Or just anyone, for that matter. He was gorgeous and giving, friendly and funny, not to mention thoughtful, and it was unthinkable that Chelsea had lived with him so long and only noticed those qualities this week. Maybe she’d been slow on the uptake and in denial last night, but now that she was aware of it, she couldn’t ignore one additional glaringly obvious thing.
She wanted him to kiss her and potentially a whole lot more.
He nodded slowly and dropped her hand, leaving her feeling lost.
‘Then you choose, Chelsea. Which is it? Naughty or nice?’
Chapter Nineteen
Tom immediately wished he could take his words back.
What was wrong with him? He’d had next to no sleep, that’s what. He’d spent the majority of the night painfully aware of Chelsea beside him in the bed. After tossing and turning for most of the night, he’d managed to drift off sometime just before dawn.
When he’d woken, the bed had been empty. For a moment, he thought it had all been a dream. And then she’d come out of the bathroom, fresh-faced and beaming at him, and he’d experienced that familiar kick to the gut that proved to him what he already knew.
He wanted Chelsea.
And now he’d gone and ruined everything by telling her so.
‘Naughty,’ she whispered, her blue eyes bright and almost shy.
Tom swallowed. ‘What?’
She attempted a smile. ‘You’re going to make me say it again?’
Mr. Nice Guy (Pierce Brothers Book 1) Page 12
