Page 4 of Nothing Left to Lose

But damn, for a minute I thought it wasn’t gonna work. He was really mad at me. But then the corner of his lip began to curl up and he rolled his eyes. “You’re such a jerk,” he mumbled.

“Can I help you?” the lady behind the counter said.

Oh, it was finally our turn. I dropped my arm from Miller’s back and stepped up to the desk. “Ah, yes. We have a reservation. Brody Molina and Miller Norton.”

She tapped her keyboard and stared at the screen for a second before giving us a blinding smile. “Oh, yes, the newlywed contest winners! How wonderful.”

Oh boy.

Here we go.

“Yes, that’s us,” I said.

No going back now.

We confirmed our booking and a few moments later were presented with our room keys. “The honeymoon suite,” she proclaimed proudly. Smugly, almost, as she slid the key cards toward us.

Like she presumed we’d be having all kinds of newlywed sex in that honeymoon suite.

Like most people would expect newlyweds to do...

Gawd.

Before I could lose my nerve, before I could agree that this was a very bad idea, I took the keys and played along with the lie. “Thank you,” I said cheerfully.

I turned to Miller with the intent of getting to the room ASAP when the reception woman offered me a printed piece of paper. “And here’s your itinerary.”

Itinerary?

I scanned the letter, horrified to see it was basically a full list.

“Carina left a message to say welcome and that she’d see you at four o’clock.”

Carina was the contest lady who I’d dealt with.

Who I’d lied to.

And sure enough, there on the itinerary at four o’clock wasmeet and greet with Carina in hotel lobby.

Which meant we had about an hour.

We bundled into the elevator, Miller’s eyes meeting mine in the mirrored wall. He didn’t say anything but half-rolled his eyes and shook his head when someone else walked in. We rode in silence, and when we walked into our suite, he stopped dead and dropped his duffle bag at his feet.

We stood there a moment in silence, both of us staring at the huge bed.

Theonebed.

One huge, soft, and comfy-looking, expensive-looking bed.

With a heart of rose petals on the duvet, and a bottle of Moët on ice.

Ohhhh boy.

“The bed’s plenty big enough for both of us,” I tried. We’d shared a bed before. This was no big deal.

Miller took the bottle of champagne, unwrapped the gold foil, looked me dead in the eye, uncorked it like a pro in one smooth pop, then began to chug it straight from the bottle.

Right then.

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