by Tabatha Kiss
“I don’t have an attitude problem.”
He leans in an inch. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
I gasp. He laughs. “Wow,” I say. “Okay. Cheers.” I cringe as I take another drink from my bottle. “Is that really how old I am now?” I muse.
“Eh.” Oliver shrugs. “Still young. Still hot.”
“I guess.”
“And no matter how old you get, you’ll always be much younger than me, so you have that going for you.”
I chuckle. “That is technically true. What are you up to now? Forty-one? Forty-two?”
His jaw drops. “Thirty-five.”
“Oh…” I tease with a smirk. “My mistake.”
He brushes it off, not really offended in the first place. “And hell, you’ve probably got me beat in experience as well at this point,” he says. “There’s a bar in every Botsford Plaza around the world. My stories can’t possibly compare to yours after traveling around for five years.”
I look down at my drink. “No, you work at a hotel in Las Vegas,” I say, deflecting. “You’ve probably got me beat, to be honest.”
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
Oliver waves his hand at Ned the bartender as he passes by. “Two more of these, please,” he says.
“No,” I say. “One drink. We said one drink.”
“No, this just got interesting,” he says as Ned sets two fresh bottles out and pops the caps off. “I want you to tell me about your wildest international Botsford hook-up.”
I scoff as my cheeks burn. “No. I’m not doing that.”
“Oh, come on, Paige,” he says. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“I don’t want to see yours.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
He cants his head, amused. “Admit it. You kinda do.”
“No!” I laugh a little too hard, ruining my credibility. “I don’t.”
“Paige Landon, I am your boss and I demand you tell me a sordid tale of some young, foreign stranger ravaging you until dawn.”
I squint. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about this request seems highly inappropriate.”
“And that’s why it’s fun.” Oliver smiles. “Come on, old friend. Let’s catch up. Last we spoke, you were on your way to Rome. Did you ever find yourself that Centurion?”
For a moment, I’m not sure how to respond. The way he said it, as if we really were old friends catching up after a long time away from each other. Maybe we are.
Maybe we can be.
“No,” I answer. “I never did.”
“How about in Paris, then?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“London?” He smiles. “You seem like a girl who’d go wild for a guy with an accent.”
“You’re not wrong about that, but… no. I’ve never hooked up with a Londoner, either.”
Oliver bites his lip, curious. “Where was the last place you did hook-up? Seattle? New Orleans?” He chuckles. “No one goes to New Orleans and doesn’t get laid.”
I hide behind my drink as I raise it to my lips again. After a long sip, I let it settle in my stomach, hoping for it to loosen my tongue a little more. “Never hooked up in New Orleans, either, no.”
“Then, where?”
“Las Vegas,” I answer, swallowing hard.
Oliver blinks with interest. “Anyone I know?”
“Uh…” I look down. “Yeah.”
He bristles. “It wasn’t Doc, was it?”
I chortle. “No! God, no.”
“Because that guy would take home a turkey sandwich if it were warm enough.”
“So I’ve heard. But… no. Not Doc. It was, uh…”
My throat tightens, nearly choking on the word.
Oliver notices. He tilts his head as he studies my downturn expression.
“Me?” he asks.
I hold my breath in tight. “Yes,” I answer.
He sits back with squinting eyes, clearly doing all the math and science in his head. “So, wait, that means that… your last time… was with me… four years ago?”
“Hey, so…” I cringe with instant regret. “We were going to talk about that book, weren’t we? You don’t like Richard. What’s… what’s that about? Everybody loves Richard.”
“I’m sorry, I just…”
Oliver pauses, his eyes still warm on me. He closes his mouth, though that doesn’t matter much. I struggle to hear anything over the sound of my heart racing toward the exit.
He furrows his brow as he sits back. Still, he says nothing. Typical Oliver. Finally shutting his mouth at the worst possible moment.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Just say what you’re going to say, Oliver.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says.
“For once?”
“Okay. Okay, I was going to crack a joke, but then I changed my mind.”
“Oh, did you?”
He nods. “I thought a more mature response was appropriate, so I didn’t say it.”
“What was the joke?” I ask.
“It’s not important, Paige. Let’s talk about Richard!” He picks up his drink again. “I’m only on chapter twelve, I think, so I don’t know, maybe I’m… just not far enough yet…”
His voice fades off into the thick crowd. Somehow, I’m not even in the mood to chat about my favorite book anymore.
“Paige?” Oliver asks when I don’t respond.
“Yeah, he, uh…” I clear my throat. “I can see how it’d take a bit for some people to warm up to him at first.” I plant my feet on the floor. “I think I’m going to call it a night, Oliver.”
Oliver doesn’t argue with it; yet another uncharacteristic action for him, but one I’m thankful for in the moment. He gives me a friendly smile and bows his head, respectfully letting me go.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says. “Goodnight, Paige.”
“Goodnight, Oliver.”
As if on some cosmic cue, the crowd in the bar parts slightly, giving my petite frame enough space to bolt into the open lobby.
Well, that was casual, all right.
Casually embarrassing.
Chapter 19
Oliver
“I have something for you.”
Richard held up his hand and my eyes instantly locked on the flat, golden key pinched between his fingers.
“What’s that?” I asked, annoyed and ready to leave.
“It’s the spare key to my apartment,” he said, keeping it between us.
Richard, you charming devil.
What are you up to now?
I turn the page with a quick glance at the clock next to the bed. Just after midnight. I told myself I wouldn’t read past twelve, but I can’t help it if this chapter goes long, right?
And besides… I don’t know if I can sleep anyway after what happened earlier.
I shake it off to focus on the literary distraction in my hands instead.
I nodded. “I can see that. It’s very shiny. You must be proud.”
Richard smiled, pleased by my sarcasm. I’m sure he thought that means his charm was working as intended, but no. It was not.
I wanted to go home.
He moved the key a little closer to my hand. “Here,” he said. “It’s yours.”
“Why are you giving me a key to your apartment?” I asked with a snort. “We barely know each other.”
“I’m giving you a key to my apartment because I want you to use it.”
“You...” I shifted on my toes. “You want me to use it?”
“That’s correct.”
“Like, you want me to move in with you? Richard, that’s—”
“No,” he said over me. “When you find yourself at home… all alone, late at night...”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I see.”
“With an itch you can’t scratch.” He smiled. �
��I’ll be waiting.”
I smile. Nice move, dude.
“Well, you’ll be waiting for an awfully long time, because I’m not taking that key,” I said, standing defiantly.
Richard eased forward, calling my bluff. “Melissa,” he whispered. “Take the key.”
“No.”
“Take it.”
“No.”
Richard didn’t ask again. He merely touched the edge to my chin. The cool metal sent a shiver across my skin as he gently glided it down my throat.
“Richard,” I said, far too weak to stop the inevitable.
Richard pushed the key into my blouse, boldly nestling it between my cleavage before letting it go.
I cackle even harder. The balls on this guy...
“I’ll be waiting, Ms. Aster,” he whispered.
I inhaled to speak, to toss him an insult or another exaggerated eye roll, but I couldn’t. Truthfully, that stupid stunt of his was working. But not only that...
It was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life.
Her entire life, eh?
My eyes slip off the page, inching once again toward my bedside table. I ignore the bright green numbers of the clock judging me for staying up late and focus on the phone instead.
When I asked Paige for her hottest hook-up story… I did not expect the answer I received.
I expected a sordid tale of her and some guy who didn’t speak the same language, but still knew how to use his tongue.
I very much did not expect her to say that I was the last man she slept with.
It has been four years.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, but…
Why?
I reach across the bedside table toward the phone, but I pause before I can touch it.
No, I shouldn’t call her, I think to myself.
I should leave her be. Sure, I could pry. Prying into Paige Landon has quickly become one of my favorite activities, but I can’t shake off that look on her face before.
I pull my hand back and rest it by my side on the bed.
Unfortunately, this topic is one I’ll just have to drop.
The phone rings as I’m staring at it. I flinch in surprise, my chest lurching forward as I reach out to grab it before the end of the second ring.
“Hi, Paige,” I answer. Who else would call my room at this hour? “What’s up?”
“A cliffhanger?!”
I squint. “What?”
“A cliffhanger?!” she repeats, just as angry as the first time. “You made me read a book with a cliffhanger?!”
“You finished the book already?” I ask in surprise.
“Why? Why would you do this to me?!”
I smile. “You sound upset.”
“Yes, I’m upset!”
“Why are you upset?”
“Because I hate cliffhangers! I don’t read books with cliffhangers. I read stand-alone romantic comedies with full happily ever after endings, not slasher dramas where the killer gets away and, as if that weren’t bad enough, doesn’t get unmasked, so I have to read the second book to find out who dun it!”
“Yeah, about that...”
The silence is thick and delicious.
“What?” Paige asks.
“Well...” I lean against the headboard, getting a little more comfortable. “You don’t find out who the killer is in the second book.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am serious.”
“Which book, then?”
I bite my lip to smother the chuckle just begging to escape. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Yeah, we don’t actually know who the killer is... yet.”
“This...” She audibly exhales. “This is an ongoing series?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.
“You made me start an incomplete, ongoing series?”
“Hey, I told you you didn’t have to read it, so technically you made you start it.”
“How many books are there?!” she asks, her voice getting louder.
“Fifteen,” I answer.
“Fifteen?!”
“Yup. Fifteen.” I smile wider. “I’ve been reading them since I was a teenager.”
Paige sputters angrily. “I — wha—”
“Sounds like you and I are going to be friends for a very, very long time,” I tease.
She goes quiet. Deathly quiet.
And my smile deepens.
“I can’t believe you did this to me,” she finally says.
“Oh, come on.” I laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“You owe me.”
My brow piques. “What would you like, Ms. Landon?”
“I don’t know, but you will pay for this.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say, smug and happy. “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight to make your stay more satisfying?”
Paige exhales hard. “We’ll talk about it on the train tomorrow.”
I pause. “The train?”
“I booked us a train to Boston,” she explains. “It’s slower than flying, obviously, but we can afford the break. Boston is a smaller location and we’ll be there through the weekend, so we’ll have plenty of time to do what we need to do by Monday morning.” She goes quiet, a subtle reaction to my stunned silence. “Is that okay?” she asks.
The tight knot in my stomach loosens a bit. Another reason I’m staying up late tonight is the sense of impending doom in my gut knowing that I’ll be boarding a plane in the morning.
I hate flying. Hate it. I’d hoped that by the time I made Liaison I’d be over it, but some irrational fears run too deep.
But then, Paige Landon calls with my salvation. One night’s worth, at least.
But it’s enough.
“Yeah, it’s okay. That, uh…” I clear my throat. “That sounds great, actually.”
“Good, because the tickets are nonrefundable, so…”
I laugh. “I think we’ll manage,” I say. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she answers. “I’m fine. A little creeped out by the ending of this book, but… fine.”
I swallow my questions. She sounds fine. She says she’s fine.
I shouldn’t pry.
“Try to get some sleep,” I say instead. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, big day,” she says. “Goodnight, Oliver.”
“Goodnight, Paige.”
I listen for the click. I take a deep breath as the dial tone rises. I exhale slowly as I lower the phone onto the cradle and her voice lingers a little longer in my ear. Light and soothing.
My cock throbs, easily tenting the covers.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
She knows.
Paige has sat next to me for two flights now, and that’s all she needed to realize it. She saw me, white-knuckled and sweaty, and she went out of her way to make me feel more comfortable. Honestly, if anyone else saw through me so easily, I’d be angry. The idea of someone seeing me so weak turns my stomach.
Except her.
For her, I’m grateful. I’m comforted. I’m very turned-on.
She’s… incredible.
And I’d very much like to remind her of that.
Chapter 20
Oliver
one more time . . .
I shuffle my feet on the carpet as I walk across the suite. I step into my shoes, loudly tapping them to get my feet nice and snug inside. As I grab my belt off the floor, I slap it against my legs before shoving it through my belt loops.
I clear my throat.
I part the curtains to let in the morning sunlight.
I do everything I can think of to accidentally wake her up just so I can see her smile one last time.
Finally, Paige stirs in the bed. She rolls over, getting herself twisted up in the white bedsheet as she looks around... for me.
“Hey,” she whispers as she finds me lingering by the windows.
> I smile as I adjust the collar of my jacket. “Hey,” I say, keeping it cool.
She glances around with tired but lucid eyes. “You leaving?” she asks.
“Yeah, I need to get down to the desk soon.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She grins. “You run this joint.”
“Yes, I do.”
“And I...” She sits up with the bedsheet just barely covering the important bits. “I need to shower again.”
I chuckle. “Well, in that case, I could stick around for a little while longer,” I joke. “I’m sure the desk staff can survive without me.”
She hums pleasantly as she bobs her head at the crumbled clothes on the floor. “Would you hand me my phone?” she asks, stifling a yawn.
I scoop it up and walk it over to her, happy to obey. “Are you feeling better now?” I ask.
“About what?”
“You know. What’s-his-face.”
“Oh, right,” she says with a nod. “I got dumped this weekend.”
“Sorry for reminding you.”
“No, it’s okay. I...” She pushes a few wild strands of hair away from her eyes. “Actually, I feel... incredible,” she says.
“Really?” I ask.
“Yes, sir.”
“Really?”
She chuckles. “Yes.”
“Because we could go one more time if you’re not sure.”
“I’m sure.” She extends her hand. “Phone, please.”
I hold it between us, but quickly pull it back as she reaches for it.
“My opinion?” I say. “If you gave that loser half of what you gave me last night... he’s an idiot.”
Paige smiles. That sweet, sweet smile.
“Thank you, Oli,” she whispers.
That ought to keep me going for a night. Maybe two. Or fourteen.
I give her the phone. I bite my lip with hesitation, giving myself a chance to re-think these words, but…
Fuck it.
Carpe diem.
“You know,” I say, “I rarely encourage such obscene behavior, but the next time you come home and there’s no one waiting for you, I...”
I pause as she furrows her brow, her eyes sunken in thought.
“Everything okay, Paige?”
“Uh, yeah.” She looks up at me. “Yeah, I just... I have a lot of missed calls.”
