Page 103 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Raising my arm, I rest it on the back of the sofa and prop my head up with my hand. “So you enjoyed the kiss, huh?”
“What?”
“It was—” I pretend to think about it. “—incredible?”
“Riley!” she shrieks again. “You just said you couldn’t remember what you heard!”
“I remember that part.”
She growls her adorable cub growl and turns her back on me. “I can’t believe you.”
“Ease up, Riles. I’m just playin?—”
“No!”
“It was a great kiss.”
“So what if it was?”
I smile and wait for her to continue, because I know she will, especially if I don’t say anything.
“Regardless of if it was or wasn’t,” she says, fiddling with the daily newsletter, “it won’t happen again.”
My smile plummets. “Why not?”
“Because it can’t. We’re sharing a room, and… and…” She turns to face me again. “You’re getting a divorce.”
“What’s my divorce got to do with it?”
“They’re messy and complicated. Plus, I’m not a rebound, Riley. I never have been, and I never will be.” She crosses her arms over her chest in a show of defiance. “And I don’t do one-night stands. They’re not for me.”
I smirk. “They’re not for me either.”
Her eyebrow rises, insinuating I’m lying, and it pisses me off. I don’t do one-night stands, much to Roni’s and Ben’s encouragement. But one night can lead to two, and two can lead to three, and so on and so on, so you gotta start somewhere if you want to go anywhere.
Dying to put forward my very logical and valid point, I choose to let it go instead. Now’s not the time to take this further. I’ve succeeded in distracting her from her thoughts of her late mother,but there are other ways I can continue to do that, ways that don’t potentially lead to her severing my head from my neck.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say calmly, eyes locked on hers. “When I say I don’t do one-night stands, I mean it. They don’t interest me.” I snag the TV remote and press the On button.
“What are you doing?” she asks, giving me a quizzical look.
I give her one back. “Watching TV.”
“You’re not going to the magic show?”
“Nope. That doesn’t interest me either.”
Riles chews her lip, and I once again internally praise my distraction skills.
“Well,” she adds, a little flustered. “What are your plans for dinner then?”
“Room service.”
“Oh.” She combs her fingers through her hair and twists it. “I was going to have that too.”
I cross my legs at the ankles. “Good.”
Turning in a circle, she then snatches up the in-room menu and retakes her seat beside me. “Good.”
