Page 30 of A Little Too Forward

A couple of them agree, and I try to confidently stride across the room and away from Max. I need a little space.

Minutes later, my cameraman rests his equipment on his shoulder and gestures over to Max. Even without words, I know what he’s asking. Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies still fluttering in my stomach, I make my way over to a staring Max.

“About time you get to me, Bean.”

“Oh, shut it. You know I have to spread the camera love.”

“I don’t like sharing,” he grumbles, blue eyes flicking down to mine.

My breath catches in my throat, his quiet comment making me fumble. His words sound possessive, like he’s referring to me. But that can’t be right. He wouldn’t—

“You’re wearing my jersey,” he says softly, reaching out and fingering the material at my shoulder.

Snapping out of my trace, I blink at him. With humor in my voice, I shrug. “You’re not as popular as you think, Daws. This was the only one left in the store. Such a shame.”

He snorts, a small laugh escaping as he shakes his head.

“You definitely keep my ego in check, Bean. What would I ever do without you?”

I give him a playful tilt of my head, a smile spreading across my face. I’m about to tell him exactly what a wreck he would be without me in his life when someone clears their throat. When I look over my shoulder, embarrassment courses through me when I see the cameraman pointing the lens in our direction.

God, I hope he didn’t catch that on camera. It was nothing but harmless teasing, but still.

Max must see the horror on my face because he steps in and nods.

“Yeah.” He turns fully to me, and we stare at each other for a moment, getting our composure. “Tell me how awesome I was tonight,” he hedges, making the tension in my body fade away.

“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper, then turn to give the all-good sign. Seconds later, we’re rolling.

And yes, I do, in my own journalistic way, tell Max how awesome he was tonight.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SABRINA

“What? No. Say that again, please. I must not be hearing you right. There are no rooms available tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct. Unfortunately, we’re overbooked and can’t accommodate your reservation.”

“But that’s what reservations are for. To avoid this very thing.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”

“Stop calling me ma’am.”

The woman pinches her lips together and looks down at her computer. “I’m sorry, Miss Sutton, but there’s nothing we can do. Now, if you’d like to go to one of our sister hotels, I can arrange for transportation and—”

Her words fade into the background as I rub both hands over my face. I don’t want to go try at another hotel. It’s past eleven o’clock in the evening, and I’m exhausted. All I want to do is have a nice, long, hot shower, then crawl into bed. I don’t want to try my luck at another hotel when I’d booked this one for the night.

“Sabrina? Hey, Sabrina. What’s happening, Bean?”

Sure, why not add to my night of absolute bad luck by adding Max fucking Daws into the mix.

“Hey, Max,” I say with a dejected voice. “Nothing’s wrong. Just trying to get a room.”

“Didn’t the team reserve a room for you?”

It’s hard not to laugh hysterically in his face…and then break down into exhausted tears. Instead, I nod and motion to the woman behind the front desk. “They overbooked, and now my reservation is void.”

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