Page 111 of One Big Little Secret

I’m already in too fucking deep. I’m a dead man walking if I have to deal with her prancing around half-naked.

“But this really is wild. Ludicrous. I may just sit and dip my feet in to warm up later. I know the desert gets chilly at night…” She trails off as we walk through the main room to the lone door across from a massive bathroom.

Wait, what? Shouldn’t there be aseconddoor to another bedroom down the hall?

She stops cold with the same question, staring at the large earth-toned bed pressed against the wall in a fully furnished bedroom while I stand behind her.

Theonlybed.

With my jaw clenched, I check the suite number on my card again. I distinctly remember booking a two-bedroom suite.

Anything feels safer than watching Salem’s mouth drop.

“So, uh… where’s my room?”

It’s almost laughable.

Here we are in paradise, this lovely room with its bamboo accent wall, soft colors, and crisp, white modern furnishings, feeling like we’ve just been gutted. A masterful room clearly designed for couples.

Hell, the place wouldn’t be out of place for a honeymoon suite.

Dammit. IknewI should’ve gotten that second room.

“Somebody fucked us,” I say tightly in the empty silence. “Sorry. This suite was supposed to have two bedrooms. I’ll call reception right now and—”

“No, there’s no need.” She swallows before locking eyes with me again. “I mean, there’s a sofa in the other room. And this bed, it’s enormous. We could share it and be in different zip codes.”

Does she even hear herself?

She’s not wrong, though.

A person could starfish on the mattress two or three times over without touching anyone else on the other side.

Only, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s one bed.

Onebed.

Only one bed for two awkwardly attracted people and a man fighting off his inner caveman like a feral monkey with a stick.

A single shared bed we’re somehow expected to sleep in without turning into ravenous beasts tearing each other’s clothes off.

“I’m calling them,” I growl.

“Hold up. I know how much a room like this costs,” she continues, running her fingers along the silky bedspread. “I checked, remember?”

“I can afford another room, goddammit. I’m sure there’s something available.”

“And if there isn’t?” She looks at me.

“ThenI’lltake the sofa, woman. We needrestif we want to make the most of this weekend.”

“When you’re the one flipping the bill? Um, no. And that’s beside the point.” She juts her chin out so defiantly I almost laugh. When a woman gives you that look, it means you’ve already lost. “You paid for this room. I agreed to it, and I also asked for one room. We’ll be fine. I can survive a few nights in a place that makes my apartment look like a beat-up shed. One roommate, that’s a luxury—and you won’t even throw chicken nuggets around.”

I snort, biting back a grin.

She’s insufferable.

She also might think it’ll be fine, but she hasn’t met my self-control, or lack thereof.

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