Page 45 of Cherished Lands
"Chicken fried steak, over medium eggs, hash browns extra crispy." I set my menu down with a flourish. "Am I right?"
The look on his face made me glad I'd memorized his regular breakfast order that time I'd overheard him at Rosie's. But I'd never confess. That would mean admitting I'd been paying attention to him long before this marriage of convenience.
"Just because you know my breakfast order, doesn't mean?—"
"That we're actually married?" I batted my eyes at him. "Don't worry,Husband. Your secret's safe with me."
Before he could snap back, the waitress appeared with her notepad ready. We placed our orders—exactly what we'd predicted for each other.
The December windwhipped across the hotel parking lot. I tugged my coat tighter, watching as Elliot hoisted our overnight bags from the backseat of his truck with an ease that absolutely didn't make my stomach flip.
"I think that went well, don't you?" I asked, trying to match his long strides as we headed for the lobby.
"Sure."
The automatic doors whooshed open, bringing a blast of warm air that smelled like hotel coffee and cleaning supplies. "Can you give me anything more than one syllable?"
He adjusted his grip on the bags, that muscle in his jaw jumping again. "It was fine, Tessa. It was good. You clearly know your shit. I don't even know why you brought me."
"Soyoucan know your shit too. We're partners." The word 'partners' hung in the air, loaded with meaning. He shifted uncomfortably as we approached the front desk, where a tired-looking clerk was staring off into space.
"Hi there," I chirped. "Checking in for Tessa Belmonte."
"Belmonte?" Elliot raised an eyebrow.
I waved my driver's license at him. "That's what the ID says, mister."
"Alright," the clerk said, "I have you staying with us for one night in a king room on the third floor. Sound good?"
"Uh, no. Two beds." Elliot held up two fingers to clarify—apparently, he'd decided this clerk didn't know how to count.
"Oh, um..." He glanced between us. "Unfortunately, we are fully booked. If you'd checked in earlier, I may have been able to switch things around, but you're our last guests to check in today. I'm so sorry."
"How in god's name are you fully booked?" Elliot demanded. "We're in the middle of nowhere."
"Christmas Eve wedding at the hall across the street tomorrow."
"It's fine. One king bed is no problem." Elliot's head whipped in my direction so fast I thought it might fly right off his neck.
"Like hell it's not a problem," he growled under his breath.
I leaned closer to him, keeping my voice low so the clerk couldn't hear. "What's wrong,Husband? Afraid you can't keep your hands to yourself?"
Those jaw muscle jumps were quickly becoming the standard by which I measured my success in annoying my husband. I watched his hands tighten on our bags until his knuckles went white—another telltale sign of frustration. His moods were becoming so familiar to me that reading them was second nature.
The clerk cleared his throat. "Should I... process the reservation as is?"
"Yes."
"No."
Our replies came out at the exact same moment. The clerk's eyes darted between us.
I pulled out my credit card and slid it across the counter. "Yes, please. Third floor, you said?"
Elliot's presence behind me was like a wall of frustrated masculine energy. I wouldn't have been surprised to turn around and see steam coming out of his ears.Good. Let him stew in it.After nearly a week of listening to him in the shower every morning, it was time he got a taste of his own torture.Maybe I'll put on a little show.
The clerk slid the keycard to me. I thanked him before heading toward the elevator. It dinged open, mercifully empty. Elliot jabbed the button for the third floor with more force than necessary. I leaned against the back wall, admiring the way the muscles in his shoulders bunched under his jacket as he gripped our bags. I could almost taste the waves of tension rippling from his body. It was... delicious.
