Page 12 of Last Minute

“Can I get to the bathroom, please?”

A hand wraps around my elbow, and I follow Erik’s gentle tug until I hear a door opening and my feet hit tile. The heat from his touch rushes through my body and battles the coolness of the tile creeping up from my feet.

It doesn’t take my university degree in chemistry to know what the sparks between Erik’s hand and my elbow are.

“There you go, Ellie.” I acutely feel the loss of Erik’s warmth as he takes a step back.

“Thank you, Erik,” I say quietly as I step farther into the bathroom and shut the door, careful not to hit him with it.

Instead of blinding myself with the light, I feel my way to the toilet and take care of my needs before returning to my bed by touch. Now that my eyes have adjusted back to the dark, the very faint light of the city lights leaking through the gaps in the curtains gives me enough to carefully step around Erik as he’s doing pushups. With a few extra minutes to wake up, I’m slightly mortified that I was so liberal with my hands while I was on Erik’s lap.

Darkness makes one bold.

I remind myself that I shouldn’t—no, I can’t—act on my attraction to Erik. Things are complicated enough for me right now, and I don’t need to go around adding a fling with an American to the list.

I climb back in bed, but I don’t fall asleep immediately. I listen carefully to Erik’s breathing and try to picture what that chest would look like in daylight.

I don’t know what I expected I would find Erik doing when I woke up a few hours later, but it wasn’t sitting in bed, legs crossed at the ankles, and reading a well-worn historical romance novel.

He looks freshly showered and is wearing a navy blue shirt that ends at the middle of his bicep, leaving his inked forearms out for viewing, and faded jeans. With his feet bare, he looks almost nothing like the buttoned up, grumpy EPA I met yesterday. His tattooed forearms are on display as he turns a page and continues reading.

“Good book?” I ask as I shift into a sitting position, stretching my arms above my head. He grunts an affirmative as he shuts his book and sets it on the side table between the two beds. “I like her Scottish romances the best, but her regencies are decent.” I gesture to the book between us. “Though I haven’t read that one yet.”

A pair of raised eyebrows is the only response I get to my ramblings.

“Good morning, Erik,” I add, remembering my manners.

“Good morning,” he says, short and curt. His face is set in its usual stoic expression. Middle of the Night Erik might be flirty, but Daylight Erik is not. And I’d do well to remember that.

I gather my bag and head into the bathroom without another word to him. As I shower, I examine the look he gave me as I woke up. He didn’t seem angry about what happened a few hours ago. And while he was teasing in the safety of the darkness, he wasn’t quick to bring it up this morning, so maybe I’m off the hook.

When I exit the bathroom, showered and ready to take on a new, unplanned day, Erik is reading again. Without missing a beat, he softly shuts the book and focuses on me.

“What are your plans for today, Ellie? Or are we going to be driving around aimlessly because you don’t want to plan anything?” I swear I can hear a hint of amusement in his voice, but his face is set in that even expression and doesn’t give away any emotion.

I thought about this in the shower, after settling my worries about what Erik would say about our early morning rendezvous. “I would like,” I say slowly, watching for his reaction, “to go to Target.”

CHAPTER 10

Erik

I have never seen someone so enthused to be in a grocery store.

It’s a grocery store. But Ellie practically waltzes up and down each aisle, looking like the average American woman in a monochromatic navy sweatshirt and leggings set with the same white sneakers from yesterday, examining everything with the refined eye of a princess.

I looked her up last night when I couldn’t sleep. Some of the things I already knew, like her full name and age, but there was other basic information about her like the name of her university and area of study and a link to her entire family tree. What drew me in the most was the information about what she’s done as the Princess of Brysard—the charities she’s founded, the international diplomacy she’s been involved in, and most intriguing was her work with the schools in the more remote parts of her country. But none of that information could prepare me for how excited she would be walking through aisles of school supplies.

“They’re so beautiful,” she says as we pass a section of glittery folders. “Everything was always just provided for me, even when I went to university. I didn’t have to worry about buying my own school supplies. If I had known these existed, I would have asked for them.” She runs her fingers lightly over them, staring a little wistfully before she cocks her head to the side and her fingers wrap around the edges of one.

“Since the name of this vacation is doing things I’ve never done before,” she announces as she turns to me with the glittery folder clutched in front of her chest. Her smile grows as she rolls the next half of her thought around her mouth. It takes every ounce of discipline I possess to not drop my eyes to her lips as she wets them with her tongue.

Our accidental rendezvous on the hotel room floor in the middle of the night flashes into my memory, but I push it away to focus on the job at hand. I need to keep my senses on alert for anything around us and not on memories of the way she felt in my arms.

“I’m going to buy this for myself.” Ellie smiles up at me, and I nod before glancing toward the end of the aisle. I’m here to do my job, nothing more.

Ellie nudges my forearm and brings my attention back to her. I note how the soft tips of her fingers linger on my skin a moment longer than necessary. “Do you want one?” she asks, making the folder dance and shimmer in the overhead lights.

“No,” is my only reply. I study Ellie’s face as she squints, trying to read my expression. She pulls the corner of her mouth into a thoughtful expression before turning back to the display of supplies. She carefully picks up several matching things—a binder, a set of pens, and a pencil case—all with the same glittery design, and she tucks them into the crook of her arm. Without looking back at me, she leads us onward to the next aisle.

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