Page 57 of Three Pucking Wedding Dates

The lobby’s crystal chandelier casts a warm light over the marble floor, and I can’t help but feel out of place as I approach the front desk. My heart races, betraying my attempt at indifference.

“Good evening,” I say to the woman behind the counter. Her name tag reads “Soraya” in gold letters. She looks me up and down, her eyes flitting between mine and my lips, and I tense as she leans in a little too close.

“Hi there,” she purrs, adjusting her shirt so it reveals more cleavage than necessary. “What can I do for you tonight?”

“Reservation for Archer,” I reply curtly, trying to ignore her advances. The last thing I need is another complication, especially when Oakley is standing right behind me.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Archer.” Soraya smiles seductively, handing me a key card. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, turning away from the desk. I’m about to head toward the elevator when I overhear Soraya speaking to Oakley.

“Sorry, miss, there must be some confusion. Your reservation starts tomorrow night. We’re fully booked tonight. I’m afraid I don’t have a room for you.”

I grit my teeth, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders once again.

I sigh heavily, turning back to Soraya. “Is there anything you can do? We’re traveling together.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” she coos, batting her eyelashes at me. “I wish I could help, but we really are booked solid.”

My jaw clenches as I glance over at Oakley, who looks both annoyed and worried. I can’t just leave her here; Gray and Reid would never forgive me if I did. “Fine,” I growl, looking back at Soraya. “My room has a couch. She can sleep there.”

Soraya’s smile turns sour, and she nods curtly. “If anyone cancels, I’ll let you know immediately, Mr. Archer.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, and Oakley and I head for the elevator. As the doors slide closed, she turns to me, green eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you, Theo. That was…really generous of you.”

“Seems like I’ve been helping you out a lot lately,” I say dryly, avoiding her gaze. “But that’s not my job, is it?”

Oakley doesn’t reply, and I can feel the tension between us growing thicker with each passing second.

The elevator dings, announcing our arrival on the proper floor, and we step out into the plush hallway. The scent of luxury wafts through the air, making my stomach churn. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go. But sometimes, life has other plans.

As we reach my room, I swipe the key card, and the door clicks open. Oakley hesitates at the threshold, biting her lower lip, then steps inside without another word.

Though I try to ignore it, the weight of her presence in this small space feels heavier than ever before.

I step into the bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest. The hot water cascades over me as I shower, but it does nothing to calm the storm of emotions churning inside. As the steam fills the room, I lean against the cold tiles and try to banish Oakley from my thoughts. But it’s impossible—she’s under my skin, in every corner of my mind.

Finally, I turn off the water and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist. My fingers tremble as I dry myself off, dread coiling in my stomach at the thought of sharing this small space with her. Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, I open the door and step out into the room.

“Oakley,” I say sharply when I see her sitting on the bed. “You’re supposed to be sleeping on the couch.”

She looks up at me, her green eyes shimmering with hurt and confusion. “Theo…I’ve been trying to figure something out. That night…the night you took my virginity…what did I do wrong? Why do you hate me now?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I don’t want her to think that I hate her, but I can’t let her know the truth either. My emotions are a tangled mess, all knotted up with guilt and desire.

“Oakley, just…just sleep on the couch, okay?” I order, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

But she doesn’t move, her gaze locked on mine, searching for an answer I’m not sure I can give her.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice as I speak. “I don’t hate you, Oakley.”

“Really?” she questions, her eyes narrowing. “Because you held my hand on the plane when you thought I was scared. You still care about me, don’t you? So why are you trying so hard to hide it?”

Temptation lures me in, but I resist the urge to answer her. Instead, I turn away, reaching for my clothes to get dressed. But Oakley isn’t one to back down easily, and she follows me, her words sharp and relentless.

“Tell me, Theo,” she presses, her tone laced with frustration. “Why do you keep pushing me away when I can see that you want to be close?”

“Oakley, just drop it,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. But she doesn’t listen. She steps closer, pressing her palms against my chest, forcing me to face her. Her touch is like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

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