Lucy,
Sorry, but long story short, I’ve met someone. Eduardo. And we’ve really hit it off.
I’ll take a raincheck on the shared room/book convention (if you know what I mean) and hope this is enough for you to get your own room someplace else. I hear the hotel’s full now.
Sorry, kiddo.
Have a great weekend I know I will!
P.S Don’t tell your dad.
Marie XXX
I feel sick to my stomach. Like she’s reached right out of the card and punched me square in the gut.
Bitch.
Eduardo, eh?
I groan, bending down to pick up the money before trying to read the note again, hoping I read it wrong, but no.
It’s official.
I’ve been dumped for Eduardo and now I don’t have a room for the weekend.
Before I can fully panic, there’s something more pressing happening right next to me.
The stranger? He’s looking like he’s gonna grab the hotel clerk and wipe the floor with him.
When I hear what he’s been growling a little clearer, I feel my heart stop.
My mouth falls open and I feel my knees give out as a whining, buzzing sound in my ears finally pops.
“…look I am Nathan Cartwright you moron, now stop fingering your asshole for just one minute and get me a god damned room before I make you and your friend here conjoined twins in a way you don’t even want to begin to imagine…”
Holy freaking shit. It’s him.
It’s Nathan Cartwright.
Chapter Two
Nathan
Book conventions and public appearances have never been my thing, but since firing my agent and running things the way I want to, things have just felt better.
Even though they’ve rarely gone to plan lately.
Like booking a hotel room under another name to avoid being detected? I thought all famous people did that.
Turns out they do, but this hotel isn’t used to being full, let alone having famous guests so they’ve overbooked and too bad for anyone arriving after the fact.
I’m Nathan Cartwright, guest speaker at the convention the hotel is hosting and they’ve given my room out to someone else already.
Someone else who happens to be more important or maybe even more intimidating than the guest of honor for this weekend.
I’m in the middle of politely explaining the situation to a young and possibly slow clerk when I feel her coming up on my left.
Yeah, I’m a hermit. I like to keep my life private, but I know what people are like and how to interact with ‘em.
I also know girls like what they see in me. Just never found one that clicked with me.
A lot of one-way clicking from their side, but if I don’t feel someone, I don’t feel ‘em. Plain and simple.
And this girl who just walked in? I’m not just feeling her, I’m feeling her.
I’m trying to stay mad with this hotel clerk, trying to sort out the mess that’s me trying to get a room at my own convention.
But in a single moment I have a new problem, and one I can’t deal with so easily or even with words.
I take a sideways glance through my shades at her profile, instantly feeling the front of my pants stiffen as my manhood springs to life.
Not something that happens to me as a general rule. Especially when I’m out and about.
The second clerk knowing my situation with the room fiasco ushers her further down the counter.
Taking away what I like doesn’t make me happy.
I hear myself growl, making the clerk I’m dealing with start to sweat bullets but I’m feeling defensive now.
Protective.
I take a full look around, at her directly and then behind us. Double-checking there’s no one else trying to muscle in on her.
No husband or boyfriend.
No dad around.
The thought makes me wince, but no. I know what I want when I see it.
She must be half my age. Maybe more…
Who isn’t half my age when you get to my age though?
Traveling alone and has a room booked from what I overhear. Spells adult to me, you need a credit card and I.D to book a room…
Okay, Sherlock. How about solving the mystery of your own room first?
The hotel clerk is being apologetic. Changing his tactics to diffuse this before it explodes, there’s really nothing he can do, he explains. His hands are tied.
“We can try another hotel for you Mister… uh, Smith?” he suggests, offering to call the local five star and book me a suite. The slight curling of his lip lets me know he doesn’t think I can afford a five star hotel let alone the room I already booked and paid for.
Between listening to his crap and feeling the rising hormones in my system, plus watching his coworker slide closer to her than I’d like, I feel myself starting to unravel in more ways than one.
Fishing for my own I.D and lowering my glasses to the end of my nose, I lean over with both hands clenched into fists on the counter. Spelling out how it’s gonna be.