Page 57 of Play the Part

I shrug. “Whit won’t mind.” I pull my phone out. “I’ll just text him.”

“Okay, great,” she says, sounding relieved. “It won’t be a big detour.” She bangs a uey. “We’re not far from my hotel.”

A few minutes later, she parks in front of the hotel entrance, and I let out a long whistle.

“So you’re rich, rich.”

She laughs as she takes her seatbelt off. “The suites are pretty affordable, actually.”

When she hears my seatbelt click open, she looks up.

“What are you doing?”

Her question sounds more like a warning, but I ignore her tone.

“Coming up with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

I shoot her a searing look and hope my intimidation will work on her this time. It’s always a hit or miss with her.

“I’m not waiting in the car like your lap dog. Plus, I want to see how the other half lives.”

She scoffs, then shoots me a quick smirk. “If you stay in the car, I’ll call you a good boy afterward.”

Rationally, I know that her comment was meant as a joke, but my body immediately tingles all over, the wordsgood boyringing in my ears. Suddenly, there’s a lot more I want to hear coming out of Connie’s mouth. I try to hide my reaction, but by how her smile slowly fades, I’m not doing a very good job of it.

The familiar electric charge between us returns full force, but Connie is quick to move on.

“Fine, you can come up. Just don’t touch any of my shit.”

I conceal my grin by turning to open the door, my expression back to casual disinterest by the time I round the car andmeet up with her. Connie tells the valet she’ll be right back, but gives them her keys just in case before we walk in.

The interior of the hotel is even fancier than the outside. I lack the words to describe the decor; all I know is that everything is imposing and shiny. It’s also impossibly quiet as we head for the elevators, as if rich people live on a different sound frequency than the rest of us.

I feel the divide between my world and Connie’s widen as the elevator doors slide closed. She swipes her card before pressing the PH button. My skin starts to itch. We don’t speak, our eyes glued to the flashing floor numbers rising.

Our tense silence is at an all-time high by the time she opens her hotel room door. I had no intention to come on to Connie when I invited myself up. I just wanted to press a few of her buttons and ruffle some feathers. But now, watching her step into her suite, glancing back at me as I follow her in, it’s unclear where either of our intentions lie.

“This is it,” she mutters. Bending down, she unzips her boots. “Take those off if you plan to sniff around. I don’t want that winter muck on the carpets.”

I snort under my breath but do as she says, unlacing my boots as she steps further into the living room area.

“I think it’s in the bedroom,” she says, obviously talking about her laptop.

She disappears through a doorway, leaving me standing in my socks near the door.

My eyes sweep around the room.

Connie’s personal belongings are everywhere I look. A pair of jeans over the back of the couch. A hairbrush on the coffee table. A phone charger hanging from the wall. Something about seeing her life out in the open like this feels too intimate. I look away and turn around, spotting the door leading to the bathroom.

It probably looks like a fucking spaceship in there.

Curious, I stroll in, hands in my pockets. The bathroom is huge for a hotel room. Then again, how the hell would I know? I’ve never seen anything but the interiors of rundown motel rooms in Pecket. I’m almost done with my quick perusal when something in the shower catches my eye.

“What isthat?”

My voice is loud enough to drift out into the living room, and I hear Connie screech.

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