Page 36 of Obey

“Singing. I can do it quietly and not draw attention to myself.”

That tracks. This hulking great guy wants nothing more than to blend into the background and go unnoticed.

He doesn’t ask my answer, or rush to give me more information, so I throw another one at him. “Would you rather be in Disney Land for five years, or be in a coma for a decade?”

He arches a brow, accentuating those golden flecks in his brown eyes.

Holding up a hand, I shake my head. “I know, I know. Silly question. You’d pick the coma, right? No one can bug you when you’re asleep.”

He grunts. Seems that’s the only answer I’m going to get, and I can’t help but giggle. I’m going to have to get creative to tease some conversation out of this man. Out of everyone on the planet, my chatty self gets landed with the world’s most stoic, quiet and sensible man alive.

It’s just my luck.

Thankfully, he’s pretty to look at.

“Would you rather uhhh swim in a pool full of Nutella or a pool of maple syrup?”

That makes the corner of his lip twitch. “Maple syrup. Nutella would be too hard to swim through.”

I indulge his silence for a long moment. When his phone rings, I find myself paying attention to his long, thick dark lashes, his flawless brown skin, and the size of his hands as he takes a call on his phone.

If this was a date, I’d scold him for being rude. But since all this amounts to is a situationally convenient meal between almost strangers, I bite my tongue.

“Yeah. I’m fine. You?” His conversation skills are even limited on the phone. Or perhaps it’s because he’s in front of me that he doesn’t want to demonstrate he’s actually great with the chit chat.

He falls silent for a beat. “Cool. I spent last night at the club.” Another beat. “Heat is broken. All the blankets I used are in the laundry baskets.”

Am I mildly disgruntled he didn’t mention I was with him when he almost froze to death? I am. But I’m also aware it’s irrational.

He’s not my captor, but perhaps this is early onset Stockholm syndrome or something. It’s coming up to the holidays, that weird space of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, there’s a thick blanket of snow pouring down onto the city, and I’m stuck in a hotel with the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.

That’s it, right? It’s got to be the only reason a billion bumble bees start humming in my stomach every time he looks in my direction. It is.

That and my cheating, scumbag ex-fiancé.

He snickers. “Yes, sir. I’m sure I know how to work it. I reset the whole system. Still nothing.”

The guy on the other end of the phone cusses so loudly even I can hear him. I wince, drawing attention to myself. Jagger stares at me with his piercing dark eyes.

“I moved to the hotel half a mile away.”

“Pancake stack for the gentleman.” The server appears with our food, placing the tower of bacon in front of Jagger.

“And a club sandwich with fries for the lady.” She flashes me the dazzling smile, and the idea I could switch my sexual preferences for this woman flickers through my mind. I’ve neverquestioned my sexuality before, but this woman is so blindingly stunning, I’d consider it. Maybe.

“Thank you.” I keep my voice low because I don’t want to interrupt his call.

She asks if we need anything else, then leaves. As she retreats, Jagger’s lips fall into a flat line, a muscle feathering in his cheek as his eyes hold mine. “No one.”

Oof. The wind deflates from my lungs.

He’s right. In the grand scheme of things, I am no one to him. But until those words left his lips, I thought, I dunno, maybe I thought I could maybe be someone.

Chapter Thirteen

JAGGER

Half-Pint’s body collapses like an accordion right in front of my eyes. Her chest caves, her shoulders sag, her head droops. I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it, but she’s literally crumpling into herself.

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