Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“No problem,” I reply. I really feel like I’m learning the layout of things and this will only help.
“Great. Four hand towels to Room 325.”
My stomach lurches. “Room 325?” I repeat, checking with her. Maybe I’m imagining it. I have too much of my brain occupied by Deacon Black.
“Yup. He’s an important repeat guest, so as quick as you can. Or I can send Isha if you pre—”
“No, I’ve got it.” I don’t want the housekeeper to think I’m avoiding work. Housekeeping have the hardest, least-rewarded jobs in the hotel. They deserve respect, and I want the housekeeper to understand that I know how important she and her team are.
I grab the towels and head back upstairs. Despite my crush, having to see Deacon Black is the last thing I wanted to do today.
It only takes a few minutes to get to his door. I pull back my shoulders. I just need to get this over with. I’m in the housekeeping uniform. He might not even recognize me. Here’s hoping.
I knock on the door.
He answers almost immediately, with such force that I feel my heels leave the floor in a half jump.
“It’s you,” he snaps.
“Your towels, Mr. Black.” I thrust the stack at him.
“I’m sorry I spilled coffee on you,” he says.
It’s such a shock that I gasp. It was the exact last thing I was expecting him to say.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I was an arsehole. I’m truly sorry. I want to pay for the dry cleaning.”
My heart starts to thump in my chest when he says the word sorry again. I don’t know why but it feels…familiar somehow. It’s the kind of apology that would come from a parent or a lover. The kind that’s heartfelt and meaningful.
I shake my head. “That’s very kind of you, but I got the stain out.”
“You’ve moved to housekeeping?”
What’s happening? Are we small-talking now? “I’m training in all departments before I start my new role next week.”
He nods slowly. His gaze darts from my eyes to my mouth, then trails lazily down my body and back up to my eyes. His stare is intense. Hot. My nipples pebble and my skin tightens. I lift my chin slightly, almost as if I can feel his eyes on me physically…and I’m wanting to display more of myself.
The seconds are ticking by. There’s no reason to still be standing here. I need to hand him the towels so I can go. But it’s like I’m rooted to the spot.
“Anything else I can get you, sir?” I ask eventually.
He continues to stare at me, and for some reason I can’t explain, I can’t look away.
He tilts his head slightly, and again, the gesture feels familiar. Like we’re two friends talking in a hotel corridor rather than perfect strangers.
“Maybe,” he says, his voice rough and deep.
The corners of my mouth lift. “Maybe? Do you need some time to think about it?”
He clears his throat and looks away. Whatever connection we had has broken. Gone.
“No, I’m fine.” He takes the towels from me. Our fingers graze, and he fixes me with a stare as they do. “Thank you for these.”
I smile, then turn to walk away, trying to ignore the heat between my legs.
NINE
Aurora
After getting turned on delivering towels to Mr. Black yesterday, I went home and signed up to a couple of dating apps.
I clearly need to get laid.
Or at least I need not to be flirting with guests. Because…that’s ridiculous and a good way to get sent back to England early.
Was I flirting?
Was he?
I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter. Now I’m waiting for my date to arrive.
Back in the UK, I would message with a guy for a week, maybe two, before I decided whether or not I wanted to meet him, but in New York, I’m diving right in. I matched with a guy yesterday and now I’m sitting in a restaurant a block away from my apartment, waiting to have dinner with him. I check the time on my phone. He’s not late, but he’s about to be. It’s one minute to eight, which is when we said we’d meet. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.
I open the menu and try to decide what I’m going to order. Something that I won’t drop down my new dress that I bought for this evening. It’s electric blue and backless. It looks nice enough from the front, but then you turn and there’s a big scooped back. It’s much sexier than anything I’d wear back at home. But I’m not at home. I’m in New York City. I’m shaking things up, including my wardrobe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the hostess bringing someone through from the front. This must be my date.
I smile and look over—and come face to face with Deacon Black.