Page 32 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
“Agree.” She pauses for a second to take in a deep breath. “I don’t date inside the business. Not coworkers. Not competition. It’s…the lines are too blurred, and it gets too messy.”
“That’s understandable,” I say. “I told my boss that you were my nemesis. It’d be weird if I brought you to the holiday party.”
This makes her laugh. “It’s just smart if we cut our losses before things get serious.”
She’s right again. And again, I hate it. “You’re right. You are my competition.”
“I’m the enemy.”
“That sounds really harsh,” I say. “Rival feels less like I want you dead.”
“Exactly. And I don’t want you dead either…”
“I just want your clients.”
“Every single one of them.”
The stare down each of us gives the other is both competitive and fueled with tension. Honestly, getting over how to look at her and not kiss her might be harder than figuring out how to beat her.
“Tomorrow is going to be nuts with finalizing projects while also meeting with Howard and Declan,” she says. “I think it’ll be best if we keep separated.”
“Agree,” I say. “The restaurant is plenty big enough that we can find a table and separate ourselves.”
“And if it’s too busy, I’ll go to the lobby,” she says. “Bedroom is an off-limits work zone. That way we can come and go as we please without having to worry about someone stumbling onto something they shouldn’t.”
“Exactly. Don’t want to copy off of anyone’s paper.”
I see her flinch to those words, which I didn’t think was anything bad, so I quickly change the direction of the conversation.
“We’ll keep our distance as much as we can. We’ll only have to deal with our sleeping situation for one night, and then we’ll be on our way to our respective holiday destinations.”
“And when we get back to Nashville, we’ll just go back to how things were before this week. Just two PR strategists bidding for the same clients.”
“Two rivals.”
“Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Her words hit me like a knife to the chest. It’s logical. It makes sense. I’m too competitive to date someone in the industry, and even if I weren’t, it’s a hard limit for her. We wouldn’t work. Better to know that now rather than later.
Right?
“It’s getting late,” I say. “I should call down to the front desk to see about the cot and some extra pillows and blankets.”
Kat nods and stands up off the bed. “I’ll use the bathroom first, if that’s okay?”
It takes a second for either of us to move, and it takes longer for me to make it to the phone after Kat gathers her toiletries and pajamas.
“Hi, this is Grayson Ross in room 403. I was wondering if there’s a cot available that can be used?”
“Oh yes!” the attendant says in the most cheerful voice I’ve ever heard. Probably because she’s still panicking that I’m goingto call and scream at her for the mix-up. “We’ll have it up to you right away.”
My stomach sinks with her words. Part of me hoped that, like the rooms in this hotel, a cot suddenly wouldn’t be available. That…oh no…I guess I’d have to sleep in the same bed as Kat. Yes, that would’ve made me the definition of a glutton for punishment after our conversation. But I selfishly want one more night. Even if I can’t hold her, or kiss her, or make her scream where the sound lives rent-free in my head, I wanted one more night of just being near her.
But no…now the hotel has amenities. Thanks, Timberline…
“All yours,” I hear Kat say as she comes out of the bathroom.
“Thanks.” I purposefully don’t look at her as I gather my things. I’m not ready to see her choice of nightwear. “The cot is coming up if someone knocks at the door.”
