An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) (8 page)

“I should probably turn in,” I muttered, standing. John looked up at me in surprise.

“Really?”

“I need to be up early tomorrow.” I slipped my shoes back on. “They have a full day planned.” John looked obviously disappointed, but I couldn’t let myself feel good about it. “I’ll see you in the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” he said, standing up. “Definitely.”

I managed a smile, though I felt pretty grossed-out by myself. “Good night, John.”

“Night, Brooke.”

I set off in search of Stan, the night manager. He had been on duty for several hours already, but I wanted to let him know he was fully in charge now and make sure Kyle knew who to go to if he needed anything.

“You going to bed?” Paul asked as I passed him.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling mentally and physically exhausted all of a sudden. I wished, more than anything, that I could go back to the night before and do things differently. It wasn’t fair to Paul, leading him on. And it made me feel terrible about myself.

“You okay, Brooke?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling wanly down at his concerned face in the dim light from the projector screens. “Just feeling bad about being such a crappy friend to you.”

“What are you talking about?” He stood up and peered into my face. “You’re not a crappy friend.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” I said softly.

“I’m not.” He touched my arm lightly. “I’m only sorry about this morning.”

“Paul—”

“Don’t feel bad, Brooke. If anything,
I
should feel bad. You were drunk and vulnerable last night. I should have taken better care of you.”

“You were pretty drunk, too, if I recall.”

Paul smiled at me. “Yeah, maybe the two of us shouldn’t get drunk together anymore. That way at least one of us can be responsible.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Feeling marginally better, I patted his arm. “Thanks, Paul. Good night.”

“Sleep well.”

I left him and set out to find Stan, more eager than ever to get to my own bed and put this day behind me.

* * *

The refuge of my bed was not nearly as peaceful as I had hoped it would be. I had only just managed to fall asleep when the shrill ringing of my cell phone jolted me back to consciousness. I grabbed for it automatically, groaning when I saw the number of the inn flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” I mumbled into the phone, wanting nothing more than to throw it across the room.

“Brooke, I am so sorry,” Stan said. “I know you’re asleep, but I’m having a bit of a problem here.”

“It’s okay, Stan,” I said, sitting up. “What’s going on?”

“Most of the guys are headed upstairs now, and someone locked himself out of his room.”

I groaned. It was a common problem for us, one that should be easier to resolve. I had been bugging my parents for years to switch to a key card system just for occasions like this. As it was, the only way to get into a locked room was by using one of the master keys. We had a few that were kept locked in my desk for emergencies or for use by the housekeeping staff. The key to my desk was supposed to be in the possession of the manager on duty at all times and, of course, was at that minute on my own key chain, there in my bedroom.

“I didn’t leave you the desk key, did I?” I asked wearily, already getting out of bed.

“Sorry, Brooke. I didn’t even think of it when you left.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “Apologize to them and tell them I’ll be right there, okay? Make sure you offer them free breakfast in the morning for their trouble.”

I rummaged through my drawers until I found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, the thought of putting my work clothes back on was just too terrible to contemplate. Pissed at myself for messing up, I slipped from the apartment and headed downstairs to find Stan.

The lobby was mostly deserted, the empty chip bowls and dirty glasses the only sign such a big crowd had been there. Stan would have his hands full getting everything cleaned up during his shift.

“Sorry about this,” I said to the guest after I had retrieved the master key.

“No problem,” the guy said. I caught site of his
Firefly
shirt and realized it was the same guy that I had seen teaching John to play earlier. “My own stupid fault for leaving my key.”

“I’ll take him up, Stan,” I said as we passed the night manager near the stairs. “You stay down here in case anyone needs anything.”

I led the guest up the stairs. “I like your shirt,” I said, making conversation. “
Firefly
was a great show.”

“You know
Firefly
?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Sure,” I said. “Joss Whedon is great.”

“Lady, you have no idea how much the guys are gonna freak out when I tell them this. They all think you’re super hot as it is, but when they hear you’re a Whedon fan, they’re going to worship you.”

I laughed. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“If you like sci-fi, you should join in when we play
Borderlands
tomorrow. Most of the other stuff we’re doing is more fantasy based, you know, but
Borderlands
is definitely sci-fi. You might like it.”

We had reached his room, and I smiled at him as I opened the door. “I may take you up on that. I hope you sleep well.”

“Yeah, you, too,” he said. “Don’t forget,
Borderlands
.”

I laughed. “I won’t.”

After he was in his room, I sighed and leaned against the wall. I was still tired, but knew it’d be ages before I could fall asleep again. It was always that way when I woke up in the middle of the night. I had trouble sleeping in general, or at least, I had since I had come home to run the inn. Too much to worry about, day in and day out. Emily was forever trying to get me to practice yoga, to help me calm down.

“Brooke?”

The sound of my name startled me so much I gasped, spinning around to see who had called me. A figure was coming down the dark hall toward me, and I squinted to see who it was. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” John said, stepping into a better-lit patch of carpet. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” I said, putting a hand over my rapidly beating heart. “Is everything okay with your room?”

“Yeah,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “I thought you were going to bed?”

“Duty called,” I said, shrugging.

“God, you look beat. Can you go back to sleep now?”

I shrugged again. “Probably not. But it’s no biggie, all part of the job.” For the first time, I registered his bare feet and un-tucked shirt. “Did you need something?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I thought a drink might help. I was gonna go and see if the bar was still open, but it sounds like the party’s over down there.”

“Come on,” I said, turning for the stairs. “A drink sounds great.”

John followed me down to the deserted lobby. A light in the office told me Stan was probably in there, apparently not in the mood for cleanup yet. I led John into the dining room and over to the bar. The room was practically dark, lit only by a few overhead lights to conserve power after hours.

“What’ll you have?” I asked, pulling out a glass.

“Whiskey, neat.”

“Ah, my kind of drink.” I poured us each a measure of Jack Daniels and clinked my glass against his. “Here’s to outlasting the gamers.”

“Sleep is over-rated,” he added, before taking a sip of his whiskey. I was more apt to down mine in one go, but I refrained, not wanting to look too much like a bar floozy.

“I would have thought you’d be exhausted by now,” I said. “Driving all that way and all.”

John shrugged. “I’m used to getting by on little sleep.”

“The life of a lawyer?”

He smiled at me. “Something like that.”

I heard a noise from the lobby and grimaced. I wasn’t really in the mood to explain to Stan why I was drinking with a guest. John seemed to sense my discomfort. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked. “Finish these up in the suite?” I met his eyes, appreciating the fact that he didn’t seem embarrassed. Instead, he winked at me and said, “I’ve heard the suite’s been redecorated recently, you really should see it.”

I laughed. “Okay,” I said, knowing it was risky behavior but not really caring. The thought of going back to the apartment was no longer appealing, nor was staying there waiting for Stan to come through. I figured I may as well enjoy my drink and his company while I could. I grabbed the bottle and my glass. “Let’s go this way.”

I led John to the opposite side of the room, toward where the kitchen was located. Just beyond the dining room was a back staircase, primarily used by the kitchen staff to bring up room service to the guests. It would take us right up to the third floor, bypassing Stan and the lobby entirely.

When we reached the suite, John unlocked the door and held it open for me. “I can’t get over these keys,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t think I’ve used an actual hotel key in my adult life.”

“I was wishing we weren’t so old school about twenty minutes ago,” I told him, sinking down onto the couch in front of the fireplace. He joined me, and I told him about the
Firefly
guy getting locked out of his room, and our conversation on the stairs.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he told me. Suddenly, he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, leaving a trail of heat across my neck where his fingers made contact with my skin. “They’ll elect you Queen of all Geeks first thing in the morning.”

“Hey, I like those geeks,” I said, trying to keep my wits about me.

“I like them, too,” he agreed, shaking his head slightly. “I was surprised, but I really did have a good time tonight.”

“Me, too.” I took a sip of my whiskey, my first glass almost gone now.

“I have to admit,” John went on quietly. “It was mostly fun because I knew you were there.”

I swallowed, not sure how to respond. I wanted so badly to kiss him, but my self-loathing about Paul hadn’t entirely gone away yet.

“Is it okay for me to say that?” John asked. “I know you work here, and everything, and I know I’m only here for the weekend. But I really like you, Brooke. I can’t help it.”

“I like you, too,” I whispered, his words making my stomach swoop in that delicious way.

“Do you?” he asked, again tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. This time he let his hand rest on my shoulder when he was done.

I forced myself to look at him, never having been one to go all shy and modest with a guy. “Of course.”

“Why did you leave so suddenly tonight? Was it because I asked you about that guy?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, looking down at my drink. “I was feeling a little bad about myself, to be honest.”

“Why? Is there something going on with him?”

“Not really. Well, kind of. We, uh, we’re not dating, but we have hooked up a few times,” I said, hating myself for feeling so guilty. Why should I feel so bad about things that had transpired between two consenting adults? Emily would say this was typical of me; the constant battle between my desire to control my own sexuality and my subsequent worrying about what my behavior said about my character. It was a battle I was getting pretty sick of having with myself.

“Okay,” John said, pulling my attention away from my disquieting thoughts. I met his eyes; he was looking at me with a steady, unconcerned expression on his face.

“Just, okay?”

John shrugged. “Why would I care that you’ve hooked up with him? I wasn’t assuming that you’ve never been with a guy before, Brooke. It’s none of my business.”

The nonchalant confidence of his words made me feel better immediately. I was an adult, in charge of my own decisions and actions. I had nothing to feel ashamed of, regardless of what Justine and the girls like her said about me.

I smiled at John, and inched myself ever so slightly closer. “Thanks.”

Without breaking eye contact, John took the glass from my hand. He leaned forward, reaching over me to set it down on the side table behind me. The nearness of him, the heat from his body, washed over me, making my breath hitch in my chest. God, he smelled good. Finished with his task, he leaned back, but not nearly so far as he had been before. From this proximity, I could see the little gold flecks in his eyes.

“You’re gorgeous, Brooke,” he said simply, then reached out and took my face in his hands, moving forward to kiss me before I even had a chance to thank him.

It was my experience that when guys looked half as good as John, they were often not that great in the kissing skills department. They could probably get away with lack-luster kissing, finding it easy to get girls on their looks alone. John, to my great relief, did not fit that pattern. He was a
great
kisser.

I wish I could say I was surprised this was happening—that John had swept me off my feet and rendered me senseless with passion, or something like that. But the truth was, I knew all along that we’d end up here. I knew it from the moment he’d invited me up for a drink. Hell, I’d known it from the moment he smiled at me outside of his room that morning.