Page 14 of The Overtime Kiss

Ugh. I didn’t radiate sex appeal last night. I radiated Weird Barbie making rude sex eyes in a garish dress.

When I sit up, the dull throb in my head jeersHow do you like me now?I wince but then spot a glass of water on the nightstand and a little silver dish with three ibuprofen in it. My throat tightens with unexpected emotion. It’s such a thoughtful touch that I want to cry for reasons I can’t even explain.

I down the pills with a gulp of water, grateful for small mercies. A neatly folded note sits beside the glass, but before I can reach for it, there’s a knock at the door.

A flare of tension rushes through me. It has to be Tyler. I don’t think we screwed last night, but did we…this morning? For a few seconds, my hormones dance a jig.Oh, I hope he fucked me really good.But when I glance down at the sea of lace and tulle—and feel my panties still firmly in place—I’m pretty sure nothing came off last night or this morning.

Damn shame.

I shuffle to the door, past his suitcase, bracing myself toface him and his understandable rejection of me. Peeking through the peephole, I see…room service? I crack the door open just enough to avoid inflicting my dragon breath on the unsuspecting server.

“Sorry, I didn’t order room service,” I mumble.

“Mr. Falcon did,” the server says brightly. “He asked for it to be brought to you around ten a.m. and to be left outside the door if you didn’t answer. But here you are.”

He wheels the cart in and sets the tray on the desk. The spread is ridiculous: a bread basket with toast and scones, plus fruit, coffee, and condiments.

I try to muster some decorum, but the embarrassment is real. Do I tip him? With my own money? On Tyler’s room?

“Uh, can I tip you with…Venmo?” I ask since that’s all I’ve got.

The server shakes his head, smiling. “No need. Everything has been taken care of by Mr. Falcon. Please enjoy.”

He slips out, leaving me alone in Tyler’s room once again. My stomach growls. Apparently, eating is a good idea. I grab a piece of toast and take a bite, moaning softly.Heaven.

Thank you, Mr. Falcon.

As I devour another bite, something shiny catches my eye across the room. There it is—my tiara—sitting neatly on the small couch, placed atop a royal blue Sea Dogs hoodie. Setting down the toast, I pick up the tiara, then the hoodie, feeling warm all over when I spot what’s beneath it: a pair of leggings, tags still attached. They’re clearly from the hotel gift shop. Pretty damn close to my size.

The thoughtfulness of it all makes my chest ache.Who does this? Nobody—not for me, at least. Not when I’ve actually needed it. And now here’s Tyler, being…well, perfect.

And what did I do? I threw myself at him.

Smooth move, Sabrina.I press my hands to my face, cringing as last night’s greatest hits flood back: publicoversharing, drunk rambling, and—oh, yes—confessing every single one of my sex fantasies to the hot dad of one of my students.

He’ll probably fire me. Yup. I bet that’s what the note’s about. A polite,thanks, but your services are no longer needed.Of course, he’d do it nicely. While serving me breakfast.

With dread swirling in me, I grab the note from the nightstand and unfold it.

You deserve more than St. Bernards, sloppy kisses, and a guy who holds you back. You deserve someone who lets you shine. Glad you left him. Never second-guess that choice.

Just so you know, you conked out before I returned with your leggings. Figured you’d need something to wear today—you probably wouldn’t want to wear that dress again. There’s a hotel laundry bag for it, and I left toothpaste and a toothbrush on the sink.

Keep that tiara, Sabrina. It’s legend, like you.

I’ve got an early tee time, so I probably won’t see you. I arranged for a late checkout so stay as long as you need.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, nothing happened last night. I promise. I slept on the couch.

—T

My throat tightens, and the dam breaks. This time, the tears are heavy, born of small acts of kindness rather than heartbreak. Despite the ache in my head, I feel…cared for. It’s a new feeling, but one I don’t dare get used to.

This isn’t how my world works.

I shimmy out of the dress, take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and pull on the fresh clothes. I turn my chin to myshoulder and inhale the hoodie, sneaking a hit of Tyler Falcon. He smells like woodsmoke—a cabin in the forest, guiding me home after a long, snowy trek.

I almost,almost, want to stay and thank him in person.

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