What in the fuck was I thinking bringing her here?
“We should go somewhere else,” I say gruffly.
“The closest decent hotel is twenty minutes away. I checked. We should just make do with what’s here, then head out to Carmel first thing in the morning,” she counters.
Before I can argue, a lethargic, balding attendant finally surfaces and checks us into our room. When we open the door to our room, it doesn’t look all that bad, but I’ve definitely seen better. First, the guy at the front desk gave us an actual key and not a key card. However, my gripe with the hotel is short lived when Quen flings her arms around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. Things quickly heat back up, reaching the same temperature it was when we were fiercely making out at the drive-in.
The air tonight was clear and crisp, which can be attributed to the state-wide stringent emissions laws. In fact, the air was so clean, it makes me second guess driving the Lancia after this week. The weather at the drive-in was just right. And with the top down and Quen in my arms, everything was simply perfect. Now we’re here ending a perfect night in the most perfect way.
Quen steps back and gazes at me with extreme want. As she begins to peel off her shirt, something appears to catch her eye. She stills with her hands pulling at the hem of her top. She does a double take, and with eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, she screams while trying to leap on top of me. I quickly turn to where she’s gaping at and see a giant cockroach scampering across the floor.
“Fuck this!” I growl, enraged. “We’re leaving this shithole!”
In no time, we’re back at the front office. Fortunately, the attendant is still sitting there.
“Everything okay with your room?” he mumbles, muffled by the powdered donut he just stuffed in his face.
“No—it’s not,” I hiss. “We just saw a cockroach in there doing the Macarena.”
“Geez, man…I’m sorry,” he sighs. He’s borderline sympathetic, but not enough for him to get off his lazy ass and actually do something about it.
Meanwhile, I’m way too fucking tired to even think, much less drive another twenty minutes from here. All I want to do is lose myself in this girl, then get a few hours of rest before hitting the road in the morning. With my body and brain in self-preservation mode, I take out my wallet and begin counting out five large bills. I look over at the attendant, whose eyes just got two sizes bigger.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Gabe.”
“Look, Gabe—we need a clean, half decent room without roaches, rodents, or bedbugs for the next seven or eight hours. Can you manage that?”
When I slap the cash on the desk in front of him, I catch both his eyes and Quen’s expand to pretty much the same size. Everyone standing here knows good and goddamn well that Quen and I should just get in the car and leave. I could drive for fifteen or twenty minutes, find a decent hotel without pests, and save a few hundred bucks. But I’m not going to do that. I’m way too tired and extremely horny.
Without further delay, Gabe leaps from behind the counter like a goddamned superhero and launches toward the backroom. He’s back as quickly as he left, resurfacing with a bucket full of cleaning supplies, along with a mop and broom.
“Sir, ma’am—I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with the perfect room for you.”
Gabe doesn’t wait for us to respond when he essentially flies out the front door. Quen doubles over in laughter and it’s contagious.
“You are completely out of your mind!” she wheezes.
“Hey, I can’t help it,” I say, shrugging innocently. “All my common sense went out the window the moment you started stroking my dick in the car.”
I step to her and she leans into me, hugging me while laughing at the hilarious situation we currently find ourselves in. I kiss the top of her head.
“I can’t wait to get you into a bug-free bed,” I say softly. Her eyes lower to the floor, but I lift her chin to bring them up to mine. “I haven’t had this much fun in such a long time.”
“Me too,” she whispers back.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re beyond amused when we enter our new room. It looks as if it doesn’t belong in this motel. Sure, it’s a throwback to the seventies and eighties, but it’s pristine. It even has a flat screen television. I roll my eyes at the thought.
“How much do you want to bet the owner of the motel stays in this room? It’s probably the best room here.” I grin sardonically as I plop my shoulder bag into the chair and then lean Quen’s roller bag beside it.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that one bit,” she giggles. “It’s insane how your money did all the talking for us.”
Her words cause my smile to fade away.
Quen
His expression falls, and my heart palpitates in horror.
Did I say something wrong?
All I did was bring up the power of his wealth, and he instantly clams up. My mind reviews the past forty-eight hours with Drew like a sports channel highlight reel. I comb through the mental footage to see if I ever gave him the impression of me being a gold digger.
Nope, I begged him not to pay for my meals or room. So that can’t be it.
I left with my last words, so I take them and dissect them.
“It’s insane how your money did all the talking for us.”
All I did was tease him about the obvious. He has a shit ton of money, and his money managed to move a mountain. What’s wrong with that? Besides, doesn’t money make the world go ‘round? Then, after a beat or two of thinking, the answer hits me like a freight train.
This man is a contradiction.
Drew O’Brien is bossy and wants to remain in control. That’s why he insisted on paying for my hotel room the first night, as well as all my meals during our travels. It’s why he bought that $100 turquoise bracelet. Yet, when he’s reminded of how much power he wields in his wallet, he immediately shies away from the very idea.
Dude, you’re fucking rich, I groan to myself. Why be ashamed of that? I don’t understand this man. It wasn’t until he cockblocked Bobby at the strawberry festival that I even had a hunch he was sexually attracted to me. Before then, I didn’t believe he thought of me more than just the stray little hitchhiking chick from Oregon. I felt like I was just some charity box he was eager to tick off on some sort of perfect billionaire philanthropist checklist. It didn’t help that he insisted on paying for everything, even when I asked him not to.
And now he’s pissed that I spoke the truth about his ability to manipulate any situation with his bankroll. That is exactly what he did at the check-in desk. Instead of demanding a refund on what he’d already paid and looking for a better place for us to lodge, he proceeded to throw down even more cash so he could get exactly what he wanted right where he stood. If that’s not money talking, I don’t know what is!
I should be upset by his inconsistent persona, but no. If anything, he’s more endearing to me than before. I don’t know why I like that he’s such a walking conundrum. He’s demanding but extremely humble…and he looks fucking hot in the process.
“I’m going to shower,” he announces with a blank expression.