Page 41 of On My Side
“Okay, okay,” he wheezes, wiping at his eyes. “Don’t move. I’m going to grab the towels.”
I raise my hands to show my obedience as he bends down. “Yes, sir.”
The speed at which he stands up straight, towels still on the ground, is almost comical.
“What did you just say?” he asks, face red.
Huh? WhatdidI just…
Oh my god.
Oh mygod.
Okay, Audrey, play it cool. It’s nothing. You didn’t mean it in a sexual way.
Even if he obviously interpreted it as sexual.
I laugh nervously. “What, no one ever calls you sir? Kids these days have no manners.”
He laughs, but this time it’s strained. “You can’t say stuff like that, Aud.”
I feel lightheaded as he bends over again, collecting the towels in his arms and reaching to grab the phone that landed by my feet.
Aud.
Pipe.
He’scomfortablewith us. He’s shortening our names like he’sours,like we’re his.
He stands, avoiding my eyes. “Do you want to come in?” he asks, and I nod. He holds the door open and I squeeze past him, shivering when my breasts brush against his chest.
This! Is! The! Worst!
I clear my throat and glance around the room. It looks like every other room in the inn. King sized bed in the middle of the room, beachy, brown and blue photography and art against off-white walls. I wanted it to be modern and cozy and beachy and, not to toot my own horn, I did a damn good job at it.
Well, the interior designer I hired did.
“So,” Ren says, closing the door behind him. My shoulders tense. I’m alone with this hot as hell man in a hotel room. This feels intimate. “How’s Leia doing? Adjusting well?”
I laugh. “Oh, she’s doing great. She and Piper are thick as thieves already. Good luck getting her back.”
He laughs and places the towels in a messy pile on the desk, my phone beside them. He sits in the desk chair and puts on a round pair of glasses.
Fuck. Me.
“You wear glasses?” I squeak.
He eyes me skeptically behind his bronze wireframes. “So do you.”
Sure, but they don’t make me look like the hottest human to ever exist.Myglasses make me look like an exhausted mom.
“Iknewsomething was missing. Now the exterior matches the nerdy-as-hell interior.” Is that too mean? I’m trying to be casual. Friendly. I’m awful at this.
“Ha, ha,” he responds dryly, crossing his arms across his broad chest and stretching his legs out in front of him. I’m filled with the disturbing urge to bite his thigh.
I gulp and motion to the pile of towels he placed on the desk. “I brought you towels.”
He lifts the one in his hand. “Thanks, but there were some in the bathroom when I got here.”
