Page 17 of Mistletoe Bargain with the Billionaire

He turns to look at me. “Whatwhat, Carol?”

“Why did you say ‘hmm’ a second ago?”

His nose scrunches up and he looks confused. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did. Hmm. Hmm.Hmm! You’ve said it all afternoon!”

“I need a drink,” he mutters.

I roll my eyes as the elevator doors open and stride ahead of Nick with our bags while holding my cat’s carrier. He needs a drink? Fine by me. I need some alone time.

We’ve been getting along so well but we’re not kids anymore on a camping trip with my folks who knew exactly when we both needed a breather from each other. We’ll have to give ourselves our own breather, I guess.

I swipe the keycard at our appointed door. The light stays red. I swipe again. Still, red. Mr. Jinglebell hisses, matching my mood perfectly. Growing frustrated, I try again.

“Let me,” Nick says, nudging me aside when I’m still stubbornly swiping for the eighth time.

“You can try but I think she forgot to activa-”

The lock goes green for him on the first attempt. “Hmm,” he says, opening the door and stepping back so I can walk in first.

Bastard. (I only thought the word so it doesn’t count, does it, Santa?)

“I know how to open hotel doors,” I grumble as we step inside and… holy snowballs, this is nice! My mood lifts at once.

Beyond our beautiful king-sized bed is a gorgeous view of Toronto’s skyline lit up at night complete with holiday lights. I set down the carrier and launch myself onto that fluffy bed. Am I nine? No but I can’t resist an irresistible bed. It’s Fluffy Cloud Heaven! The sheets must be a billion thread-count. I roll around and give a giggle of delight. Mr. Jinglebell will love this. I’m glad Nick suggested this place.

“Nick, this is-”

“I’m going down to the bar for a bit,” he says gruffly, cutting me off. He’s eyeing me on the bed and I don’t know how to interpret the frustrated look on his face. Is he still upset about being busted with the cat?

“Oh. Okay.”

The door clicks shut behind him and I’m suddenly feeling very homesick. Homesick for where exactly, I can’t say. Maybe homesick for my parents or for LA when things were better there. Or maybe I’m homesick for the sweet guy, my friend Nick, who was with me in Iowa last night buying me a cornfield snow globe to give my mom.

But didn’t kiss me goodnight.

I release Mr. Jinglebell from his carrier, set up his portable litter box and food and decide a long, hot shower might ease the tension from the road for me. If their beds are amazing, this hotel’s showers aren’t too shabby either. “It’s like Niagara Falls in here,” I tell Mr. Jinglebell of the water pressure.

By the time I’m climbing out of the most indulgent shower of my life, I’m singing ‘Mele Kalikimaka’ to myself and wondering about room service. I consider texting Mr. Bah-Hmm-Bug but decide to let him have his bar time. Mr. Jinglebell and I know how to live it up on our own, thanks very much.

With one towel wrapped around my head and one around my body, I step out of the foggy bathroom to grab the room service menu. I’ll pay, of course. This falls under snacking.

But I don’t make it far because Nick’s back. And he’s getting quite an eyeful of towel-clad me.

“Eeeekkkk!”

He promptly turns around, biting off a curse. “I’m sorry! I was… I didn’t want to sit down there drinking alone and thought I’d invite you to join me.”

I can only see the back of his head but I can tell the tips of his ears are turning red. I’d forgotten how they’d do that when Nick was embarrassed. It’s honestly really cute.And, he came back to ask me to join him. I’m feeling decidedly less annoyed with him now.

I’m feeling even less annoyed when Nick can’t help spinning back around and his eyes drop down my body for a few heated moments before snapping back up to meet mine. What did I say in Vegas? We’re adults and we’re going to be sharing a room in Maine. Might as well get used to each other.

“That’s nice of you to offer but I’m not up for a bar tonight,” I say calmly as if I’m used to sharing hotel rooms with platonic male friends… who I want to sleep with. “I was going to order a little something from room service.” I tug the towel off my head, letting my damp blonde locks free to cling to my shoulders. “Would you want to join me here instead?”

Oh, I think he does. He shoves his hands in his pockets but I see those forest green eyes darken and wander south again. “Uh… sure.”

“Grab the menu and see what they’ve got. You know what I want.”

---