Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Excuse me,” I say, veering to the left to stay on the dry part of the floor.
The spacious lobby is pretty much deserted. I check the lounge areas, finding them empty.
My stomach churns with a mix of anger and frustration. We’re supposed to leave for the airport at five forty-five. If I don’t find him, am I supposed to get on the plane without him?
There’s a “Closed” sign in front of the hotel restaurant and bar, but I walk past it to check the seats. On the last barstool, Dane’s sitting with his arms folded in front of him on the bar, a bottle of water sitting off to the side.
“Hey,” he says as I approach, all casual, like he didn’t just spike my adrenaline.
I arch my brows. “Hey. Thanks for sending me into a panic.”
“I can’t sit by myself and drink some water?”
I knit my brows together. “Of course you can, but”
“Only if I ask you first?”
“Just tell me.”
He scoffs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “I didn’t want to wake you up. And we both know if I told you I needed some air, you’d be like, What? Where? With who? I’ll come with you.”
I sniff and turn away, offended. “Sorry my presence is so annoying.”
He laughs lightly. “You don’t annoy me. I just couldn’t sleep and I felt like brooding alone.”
“Over what?”
He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before answering. “The game. I made some stupid mistakes and we would have won if I’d been smarter.”
The Mammoths lost 3–2 last night, But Dane never mentioned anything after the game about feeling responsible for it. He just seemed quiet and down, which is always the case after a loss.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” I say.
“Yeah, but this is a big fucking stage to make mistakes on.”
“It still happens.”
He picks up his water and sips it, looking straight ahead. “I miss my bed. I’m glad we’re going home tomorrow.”
“Did your teammates make you feel bad about the mistakes?”
“No, there was only one that anyone other than me noticed.”
“Don’t tell me you’re secretly humble,” I crack. “You’ll shatter my image of you as a cocky, overconfident narcissist.”
He laughs, smiling a genuine smile. “Nah, I’m a cocky prick for sure. I just hate letting my team down.”
When he reaches for the nearly empty bowl of cocktail peanuts, I move it away before his hand gets to it.
“You might as well just cut out the middleman and go lick the inside of a toilet,” I say.
He scoffs. “I already ate a bunch of them. Why stop now?”
“You don’t really want these stale, germ-infested peanuts. You’re emotionally eating them.”
“Would you prefer I emotionally drink a bottle of whiskey?”
He leans closer to me, stretching his arm in an effort to reach the peanut bowl, but I move it farther away.
“I think you should go back to bed. We have an early flight.”
His eyes darken. “Can I get in your bed?”
Warmth surges into my chest as I remember my dream. His hands on my skin. Our closeness. Everything about it was right.
“Is that really what you want?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He glances at his phone, sighing heavily when he sees the time. “When do we have to leave?”
“We have to be down for breakfast at five fifteen.”
His eyes narrow, the heat seeping away, replaced by aggravation.
“Then no.”
I yawn and slide off my stool. “I’m going back to bed. Are you coming up or staying here?”
“I’ll stay. I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Is there anything I can do before I go to make you feel better?”
The corners of his lips turn up in a grin. “A kiss would be nice.”
I smile back. “I’d be all over it if you didn’t have toilet germs in your mouth.”
He groans. “I’ll brush my teeth before we leave so we can snuggle on the plane.”
“Are we snugglers?”
Lately, we fly with our sides pressed together, my head often on his shoulder and his hand often on my thigh. We usually have a blanket covering us, so I think of it like what happens under the blanket, stays under the blanket.
“Yep,” he confirms.
Something inside me softens as I look at him, his hair sticking up and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Dane pretends nothing gets to him, but it’s not the truth.
I step closer, inches away from him. I gently rearrange the sections of his hair that are sticking straight up, his eyes on my face as I do it.
“Did you see the Gandalf meme about me? Over the Abigail thing?” he asks.
“I missed that one.”
“Apparently I’m Anal Gandalf now. You shall not ass.”
I burst out laughing. “Now I have to look that up as soon as I go upstairs.” I cup his cheek in my hand. “Good night, Anal Gandalf.”
“Night, Josie.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Josie
“Are you gonna make it?” I ask Dane as I drive his Range Rover from the airport to his house.