The manager grimaces. “Of course. Well, then you can see why everywhere is at full capacity and no one has any vacancies. Obviously, I’ll be happy to call around and see if I can find anything, but I don’t want you to have any unrealistic expectations.”
“My expectations involved each of us having our own rooms as we initially reserved,” Henry growls.
Erika turns to her boss and whispers, “Henry, I swear I didn’t do this––”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt. Silence follows as everyone’s attention falls on me. It’s like they’re surprised I’m here and can speak for myself despite the fact I’ve been standing in the same spot near the reception desk for the last five minutes. Ignoring their pointed stares, I clear my throat and offer, “Buchanan and I can stay in the same room.”
His cold gaze pins me in place, practically burning a hole in the side of my head, but I don’t look at him. I simply squeeze Erika’s hand instead. “Thanks for helping to figure everything out. Seriously. I can’t imagine how stressful this must be.”
Erika’s frown deepens. “I can’t expect you to stay with––”
“Buchanan and I are both adults. We’ll be fine.” I look up at him. “Right, Boss?”
His nostrils flare. “Apparently.”
“Perfect,” I announce.
“Perfect,” Erika chirps.
“Fucking perfect,” Buchanan grunts under his breath.
13
MIA
The elevator ride to our floor is suffocating. Pretty sure smoke will start pouring out of Buchanan’s ears at any second. I study him from my periphery, waiting for the angry red and yellow flames to appear from his ears in case I need to duck and cover, but he stays quiet, ignoring me. I can’t decide if he’s pissed at me or Erika. To be fair, I probably shouldn’t have stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, but so help me, if Buchanan yelled at one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in the middle of the hotel lobby all because of a simple misunderstanding, I was gonna lose my shit.
“Ya know, it’s not Erika’s fault,” I defend. “It was an honest mista––”
The ding of the elevator cuts me off, and he motions for me to leave.
“Okay, then,” I mutter under my breath.
The wheel on my suitcase squeaks softly as we walk to our room. It cuts through the silence like nails on a chalkboard while Buchanan follows me down the long hallway lined with doors. When we reach ours, I pull the room key out and slide it into the lock, my muscles coiled with tension. Seriously. What’s this guy thinking? He’s always the definition of detached and controlled, but right now, I swear I can hear the quiet tick-tick-tick of a time bomb ready to explode any second now. As I pull the keycard from the lock, a soft click sounds, making me flinch, and a little green light appears above the door handle. I push it open.
Yup. It’s a standard room like the rest. One king-sized bed sits in the center. It’s covered with a white comforter, white sheets, and four pillows. I’ll definitely be stealing those. There’s also a television sitting on a long, black credenza and a small table and chair tucked in the corner where I’ll probably set my laptop for edits after the game.
I slip the strap of my laptop case from my shoulder and set it carefully on the table, finding my disgruntled boss standing near the room’s entrance.
“Ya know, if you’re gonna throw a fit, I’m pretty sure Greer or Beck would trade you,” I tell him.
He glares back at me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t care who I sleep with––next to,” I correct myself. “Actually, scratch that. Greer can be kind of smelly after practice, even after he’s showered, so I think I’ll pass on him, but Beck’s not too bad.”
“You’re saying you’d prefer to stay with him over me?”
“I’m saying if you’re gonna pout because they didn’t have your precious reservation, I’m sure Beck would be fine taking your place. But I suggest you make a decision before I unpack and get comfortable.”
His annoyance taints the air as he steps inside and slams the door behind him. The sharp sound makes my body jerk, causing a spike of adrenaline and fear to pulse through me while digging up memories I’d prefer to stay in the past. Memories of another surly asshole with a short fuse. I shove them away and square my shoulders.
Yeah, no.
I’m not gonna do this. I’m not gonna play this game or stay in the same room as someone who’s clearly pissed off and won’t let something so inconsequential go.
Nope. Not happening.
“Forget it,” I announce. I hoist my laptop case back onto my shoulder and head toward the door. “I’m going to ask Beck if I can stay in his room, so you can have this one all to yourself.”
I start to step past him, but he blocks my way, his firm grasp wrapping around my bicep as he towers over me. We’ve been here before—at the rink. The testosterone wafting off him in this moment is potent, leaving me speechless.
“Don’t,” he growls.
I tilt my head up, meeting his tumultuous gaze. “You’re the one throwing a tantrum, not me.”
“I am not throwing a tantrum.”
“Then what would you call it?” I challenge.
“Do you like Beck?”
I blink slowly, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. “What?”
“Do. You. Like. Beck?”
“I don’t like anyone,” I clarify.
“So, you aren’t interested in anyone on the team?”
“One, no. Like I’ve already said, I dated a hockey player once, and it blew up in my face. I will not let it happen again. And, two, why do you even care?”
“I don’t.” His firm grasp on my arm disappears, but he doesn’t back away. “I simply prefer when my businesses run smoothly. I don’t like when unanticipated events throw a wrench in them.”
“Such as this?” I glance at the freshly-made bed to my right.
His chin dips. “Exactly.”
“Okay. I’ll go sleep with Be––”
“You’re not sleeping with Beck.”
“Oh, I’m not?”
“No. You’re not.”
“Then, who am I sleeping with, Boss?”
The man grinds his teeth, glancing at the bathroom behind me and down at his suit.
“Is there a problem?” I question.
“I need to shower before the game.”
My brows pinch. “Okay?”
“I don’t usually share a room with other people.”
“Neither do I, but it’s not a big deal.”
His left eye spasms, hinting it most definitely is a big deal, though he stays quiet. I shouldn’t be offended, but I kind of am. Like seriously. What’s his problem? Most guys would jump at the opportunity to stay in the same room with me. I take showers. I smell nice. Sure, I can be a little messy sometimes, but I’ve never had a guy complain. And it’s not like I’m gonna jump his bones or anything.
When I feel like I’m drowning in his silence, I huff, “Look, if it’s a problem, I’ll stay with Beck.”