Trouble (7 page)

Oh god, is that his car? Am I alone in this hotel with him?

That’s his car, and I’m alone in this hotel with him.

Chills shiver down my spine. I try to take in a deep breath, but my lungs won’t allow it. Panic is gripping my chest like a vice.

It’s okay, Mia. Calm down. There could be people in the other rooms. It’s evening. They could be settled in for the night. Or out and returning later. Just because there isn’t another car parked outside, doesn’t mean a thing.

Tattooed Adonis turns around. He tilts his head to the side, giving me a questioning look.

Can’t blame him. I am standing in the hall, acting like a complete weirdo, on the verge of a panic attack.

His eyes move down my body. Why is looking at me like that?

All my senses kick into high-alert.

I wrap my arms around my chest and straighten my back, trying to look taller and more confident than I could ever hope to be.

I
can
take care of myself now. I’m stronger than I used to be. I kneed Forbes in the balls and got away, didn’t I?

Tattooed Adonis walks toward me. My urge to bolt becomes compelling.

I am not weak. I am not weak.

I’m a strong woman.

I force myself to keep steady, and step back to give him space to pass by.

Tattooed Adonis towers over me. I knew he was a lot taller than me—not that it’s hard being that I’m pocket sized—but it’s so much more noticeable now he’s closer to me, and surprisingly, his closeness isn’t freaking me out as much as it should.

“Your key,” he offers.

I take it from him.

“Breakfast is served between seven and eight-thirty,” he states before walking away. Stopping, he adds, “And we don’t do evening meals, but there are plenty of restaurants nearby.”

“Are there any other guests staying here?” I have to ask.

He stops and turns back. “No. Not until next week. Until then, it’s just you and me.”

I’m pretty sure my heart just died in my chest.

Me. Alone. Here.

With him.

No. No. No.

I can’t do that. I am stronger than I was, but that’s pushing myself to far too soon.

“Don’t worry it’s totally safe out here,” he says. I’m guessing it’s the look on utter panic on my face prompting this. “We have a great alarm system, and I have a shotgun. You know, just in case.”

A gun.

God, no.

“What would happen if I pulled this trigger, Mia?”

I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the cold metal press against my forehead. I could feel my body begin to sweat.

But I held myself together. Made sure not to cry. If I did, it only made him angry.

“I would die, Oliver.”

The gun pushed harder against my head. “Oliver!” he yelled. “You know to address me only as sir or daddy! How many times do I have to tell you this? How many lessons will it take?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’m so stupid.

The gun retracted.

“I’m s-sorry, s-sir—d-daddy.” My voice was shaking as hard as my body because I knew what would come next.

And my fear was confirmed when I heard the familiar snap of his belt.

“I’m totally kidding. I don’t have a gun here.” The sound of Tattooed Adonis’ voice brings me to the now.

I need to be sick. Fear and bad memories are creeping across my skin, standing every hair on end.

I’m trying to stay calm. Stay normal. I don’t want to freak out in front of this guy, but it’s getting increasingly hard.

He lifts his hands in a gentle gesture. “No guns. I promise. No need for them, like I said, it’s a safe place.”

Breathing in through my nose, I pull on my lip and tuck my short hair behind my ear.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step forward.

No.

Be strong. Stay here. You can do this, Mia.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

His stare on me is curious. Can’t blame him. I am acting like a nutball.

“Okay, well if you need anything, just press reception on the phone in your room and it’ll bring you straight through to me.” He turns to leave. “Goodnight, Mia.”

“How do you know my name?”

Looking back, his eyebrow lifts. “I got it from your details when you filled the booking form in.”

He smiles. It’s a really nice smile. Warm. Friendly. It eases me some.

“Oh, right. Yes.” I laugh, feeling a little stupid. “What should I call you?”

He smiles again. “Jordan.”

I turn to face him. “Is this your hotel, Jordan?”

He laughs. It’s a deep, manly sound that makes my stomach do somersaults. “No. My dad’s. He’s away taking care of my Grandpa at the moment, so I’m holding the fort.”

“Oh, nothing serious I hope?”

“No, just a minor op, but he’s off his feet for a few weeks, so Dad’s gone to take care of him.”

I nod. “Well, thank you. Again.” I smile at him as I back up and quickly retreat into my room.

I lock the door behind me and fall against it.

Deep breaths, Mia.

This is going to be okay. And apart from his snippiness before, Jordan does seem like a good guy.

Yeah, but so did Forbes.

I grab the chair I just spotted by the dressing table, drag it over to the door, and push it up under the handle.

Doesn’t hurt to be safe.

Turning, I take the room in for the first time. Really pretty. A four poster bed dressed in soft beige linens rests against the back wall. A large window is situated to the side, and on the far wall there are double glass doors. I go over to the doors and push the drapes back to peer out. I can’t see much; just the porch and the moonlight pouring over trees in the distance. I’ll check it out in the morning.

I double check that the doors are locked, then close the drapes, including the ones on the windows.

I stand in the middle of the room. The silence chills me, and my mind starts to overwork again.

Fear curdles inside and poisons me.

And I can’t stop myself from walking straight to the bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet, lifting the lid, and purging.

Chapter Five

Jordan

A few hours earlier…

I climb out of bed. Removing the condom, I tie a knot in the end and toss it in the trashcan. Grabbing my jeans from the floor, I start to pull them on.

“Stay in bed with me.” Shawna’s hand sneaks out from under the cover and grabs hold of my hand, tugging on it.

I pull it free. “Can’t. I’ve got work to do. And I need to get this bed made up.”

That’s a lie. There’s not a lot to do here at the moment. We need guests to create work, and currently there aren’t any, so the world won’t end if this bed stays unmade for a while longer. I just don’t want to stay in bed with her and cuddle.

Because that’s what she’s asking. She doesn’t have to say the exact words. I just know when it reaches this point with a woman.

And that’s when I’m done.

I’m not a cuddler.

I fuck.

The end.

She knows this. I told her right before we started having sex how it was. Like I tell them all. It’s just a shame they don’t bother to listen, regardless of how heavily I highlight the fact.

Guess it’s time to put the brakes on this little thing we’ve had going. Shame. She was pretty good in the sack.

I’m just pulling my t-shirt on when she climbs out of bed.

I watch her walk toward me. I might be about to call time on her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate her fine body – legs that go on forever, and tits that are definitely not real. Still, I wasn’t complaining when I had them in my mouth ten minutes ago.

She presses herself up against me. Arms snaking around my waist, she starts to kiss my neck. “I want to fuck again,” she murmurs against my skin.

Tempting as that is, just knowing what’s going on inside her head—the words ‘Jordan’ and ‘boyfriend’—keeps my boy at bay.

You might think I’m a bastard for just having sex with her and then calling time, and really that wasn’t my intention when I crawled into bed with her an hour ago. I’d thought there were a few more times to be had.

Until she wanted to get cozy with me.

I usually end these things in a much nicer way, but trust me, it’s crueler to let her leave here thinking I’m going to call her again when I’m not.

I’m always honest, if nothing else.

Reaching behind me I take hold of her hands. Pulling her free from around my waist, I squeeze her hands, then let go.

I step back from her. “Look, Shawna, it’s been great an’ all … but I’d say we’re done here.”

She pauses. Frowns. Then gets this crazy look in her eyes that some chicks get when they realize you’re ending things with them.

The stage five clinger look.

“Done?” Her voice has gone screechy.

Fuck.

I really didn’t have her pegged as stage five clinger material when I met her. Guess I got that plenty fucking wrong.

I could really do without a crazy chick moment right now.

Here we go…

“Shawna…” I rub my forehead, and drive my fingers into my hair, pushing it back. “We both knew what this was from the beginning. I was clear on that. It was never gonna last longer than a few weeks, and we’re already well past that.”

“It’s been a week, Jordan.”

Fuck, is that all? Feels way longer. Definitely time to get rid of her.

“Look…” I put on my best ‘sensitive, but I’m still ditching your ass’ voice. “It’s been fun, Shawna. You’re fun. But it’s time to move on.”

With a look straight from the devil, she grabs her clothes from the floor and starts yanking them on.

“Fun?
FUN
!” Her screeching is actually hurting my ears. “I thought we had something really great here! I thought you really liked me!”

See what I mean?

Never.

Fucking.

Listen.

“When did I say that? Oh yeah, never. I thought you were hot, and I
definitely
wanted to have sex with you – multiple times. But feelings never came into it. Not once. And no fuckin’ way do I want a relationship.”

Ouch. That was probably a bit harsh.

She steps close and pokes me in the chest with her fingernail.

Fuck, that hurt. Her nails are sharp. They felt good when they were raking down my back, but now, not so much.

“You’re a fucking bastard!” she yells in my face. “And you’re going to spend your whole life lonely and miserable!”

Wow, so original – like I haven’t heard that line before. Why do all women say that exact same thing when you’re blowing them off?

Trust me, I’m not miserable. Far from it.

Seeing what my dad’s gone through … loving Mom, then having to watch her die … seeing how my dad is now … an empty shell of the man he was…

That’s misery.

I’m never putting myself through that. I’ll stay as I am, thanks.

When it comes to women, I put my dick in and keep my heart out. It’s the easiest way.

I lean down, close to her face. “Shawna, you knew from the beginning I wasn’t in for anything more than a fuck, so don’t act all shocked and shit on now. You knew exactly who you were getting into bed with.”

Why do all women think they can change me? I’m unchangeable. When will they get this?

“Fuck you!” she screams. She actually screams at me.

Jesus Christ, I cannot stand dramatic women. Nothing turns me off quicker … well, apart from cuddling.

“Isn’t that the point?” I smirk, stepping back. “You want to fuck, and I don’t.” I sweep my arm out in the direction of the door. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, sweetheart.”

I’m not usually this much of a dick, but honestly, she’s getting on my last fucking nerve.

Shawna looks as if she’s ready to pummel me to death. Bending down, she grabs her heels, shoves her feet in them, and grabs her purse from the nightstand.

“You’re going to regret this,” she hisses.

“Not likely.”

“Asshole!” She pushes her way past me, and stomps out the room, slamming the door behind her.

I hear her heels clattering down the hall, then the main door slams shut. A minute later, her car engines revs loudly, and spinning tires kick up against the gravel.

Well, that went well.

I run my hands through my hair, then go and grab some clean sheets from the linen closet.

I strip the bed and have it remade in two minutes flat.

Can you tell this isn’t my first rodeo?

I have sex in the hotel rooms because I don’t like to share my bed. I want to go to sleep without the scent of sex lingering from the last girl I hooked up with. And for some reason, the girls I hook up with seem to think it’s romantic to have sex in a hotel room.

Couldn’t be less so in my opinion.

But they think that, so it works well for me. This is when living at a hotel comes in handy.

I bundle the dirty sheets up in my arms to take to the laundry room.

Guess it’s time to find a new fuck buddy. First things first, though. Shower, then food.

I’m starving.

***

I’m just biting into my sandwich when the phone rings. Putting it back down on the plate, I grab the phone off the wall, quickly chewing and swallowing down my bite. God, that’s good. I make a great fucking sandwich.

“Golden Oaks,” I say, cleaning sandwich off my teeth with my tongue.

“Jordan, it’s Beth.”

I sit back down in my seat. “Beth, I know it’s you. I’ve known you my whole life, so it’s safe to say I recognize your voice on the phone.”

She laughs. “Fair enough. Anyway, I’m just calling to let you know I’ve sent a tourist up your way.”

“Ah, great thanks. You’re good to me.”