Page 55 of Stuck with Mr. Grump

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Why didn’t you call Carson? He’s, like, twenty minutes away.”

“I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone,” he mumbles, resting his head back.

“Where’s your credit card?” I ask after a couple of minutes.

He pulls out a wallet, bleary-eyed, and hands it to me. “Why?”

“I’m going to use it to pay for our hotel rooms,” I explain, turning the key in the ignition and starting the car.

By the time we arrive in front of the first decent hotel I see, Sterling’s already out. It takes a while before I’m able to wake him up and I practically have to carry him to the front desk, where we’re promptly informed by the receptionist that there’s only one room available.

“This cannot be happening to me,” I whisper underneath my breath, glaring at the man leaning on the counter beside me.

He grimaces as he looks at me, an apology in his eyes. Having no other options, I pay for the room and we’re led up to it. It’s a pretty nice room, a suite with lots of space. As soon as we’re inside, I lead Sterling to the bed. I help him out of his suit jacket and shoes, and he passes out the moment he hits the mattress.

“Perfect,” I say on a sigh, looking at the sprawled man on the bed.

Having nothing else to do, I head over to take a seat on the couch in front of the TV. A movie’s my best option to keep my eyes open. I don’t want to fall asleep in an unfamiliar place; I doubt I’d even be able to. But I need to do something to keep myself busy until Sterling wakes up so we can leave.

Soon enough, I havePride and Prejudiceplaying to distract me from my thoughts. My eyes are wide open and I’m not even the least bit sleepy. My senses are wired; my brain is trying so hard to overthink everything that’s happened in the last couple of hours. I have no idea how I’m going to handle things when Sterling wakes up.

But that’s a problem I can deal with much later. Right now, I can just try to sit back, relax, and watch one or two of my favorite movies.

Unfortunately, my distractions are short-lived because I hear rustling on the bed behind me exactly two-and-a-half hours after Sterling passed out. I look back in surprise and he’s groaning softly as he slowly rises up on the bed. My jaw drops.

“Fuck,” he breathes, rubbing his forehead.

“Sterling?” I ask dumbly. “How are you awake right now?”

He tries to get out of bed and that spurs me into action, rushing to his side. He looks up at me, green eyes way too alert for a man who passed out drunk a couple of hours ago.

“What time is it?” he grumbles.

“Um, three a.m.,” I reply with wide eyes. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Oh, well, that checks out. You downed two bottles of gasoline a couple hours ago,” I inform him.

His lips twitch. “It was whiskey, not gasoline.”

“Same difference,” I say on an eye roll. “I thought you’d sleep for way longer considering how much you drank.”

“I don’t sleep much,” he mutters. Then he’s looking up at me again, eyes softer, “Why aren’t you asleep? Do you want the bed? You could sleep for a couple of hours and then we can leave.”

I quickly shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I can’t sleep in unfamiliar places.”

He arches an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Seriously. I’m fine. I don’t even feel the least bit sleepy, I promise,” I inform him.

That seems to do it. He breaks eye contact, looking down at the covers with a sigh. “I never should have dragged you into this.”

“Yeah, but you did,” I say on a shrug. “It’s fine, though. We’re friends and you needed my help, so I helped.”

“We’re friends?”

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