Cocky Secrets (Cocker Brothers #29)

78. Meg

SEVENTY-EIGHT

Meg

S neaking back to the front desk my pretty costume looks as it did when I led him to his suite, but my hair will never be the same again. I combed it with my fingers and couldn’t find half the pins that held it, so now it’s not period-style in the slightest.

“Margaret!” Carla calls to me, rushing over. “There were people here trying to check out and in and it was absolute chaos! Where were you?”

“Ummm…fixing some plumbing?”

She blinks at me and throws her hands on ample hips. “I wish you’d left a note. Yesterday you at least asked me if you could take off. I handled it, but I was supposed to be off work an hour ago!”

Wincing I tilt my head with a sincere, “I’m sorry you had to stay, Carla. I should have told you. It was… an unexpected explosion.”

“Everything alright now?”

“Yes, er…turns out the guest was a plumber. Everything’s better now.”

Already heading for the door she nods while digging for her keys in the pocket of her wool coat. “I’ve been wearing this so long I’ve got heat comin’ out my eyeballs!”

I know the feeling.

Scanning her telltale scrawl on the guest log I discover no evidence of hurry, her hand steady when she dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s. She’s probably being dramatic about how frenzied it was. There is only one check-in, and it was a phone registration. And nobody has checked out.

Rolling my eyes I relax and let the guilt go.

His deep voice suddenly coming up behind me sends shivers into my skin. “Meg, when do you get off work?”

I cannot stop smiling. “I have to be here one more hour.”

“Wanna sleep in my room?” My chest caves in and he notices my disappointment. “What’d I say?”

“Maybe take me out to dinner?”

His frown deepens like he wants to punch his own head. “Shit. Yeah. Let’s eat.”

A half-laugh, half snort escapes me, but I know he’s trying and it’s pretty cute how blunt and gruff he is. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Wherever you wanna go. Name it. How about here?” With both hands he points to his crotch.

I swat them away. “Stop it!”

He smirks and takes a step nearer. “I’ll be back here in an hour.”

“I have to change first. I can’t wear this.”

“I’ll take you to your house. Wait while you fix yourself up.”

“On your motorcycle?”

“Too cold. I’ll drive your car.”

“Presumptive of you, dontcha think?”

“Yup. See you in an hour.” He heads up the stairs for his room without looking back. And I can’t stop watching him leave. Oh yeah, keep walking like that, Honey Badger. Yum.

Him clothed only reminds me now of what he looked like naked. Thick everywhere. Not a feminine molecule in him. I used to think pretty boys were hot, but now? Not so much.

When an hour passes and he’s not here I begin to believe I dreamed him up. I go so far as touching the antique staircase’s handrail to knock on his door, but decide I’m not that type of girl. When fifteen minutes passes I collect my things and slowly walk to the front door, feeling like I have no other choice but to make him wait, too. But I really don’t want to leave.

When I hear, “Meg!” my chest fills with happy oxygen and I spin around.

His hair is clean and waving behind him as he makes quick strides down the steps. He’s got dark blue jeans on now and a thick, black sweater, with the same black boots and Ciphers leather jacket.

He’s spinning his hair into a man-bun and tying it in place as he nears me, eyes locked on mine.

The world slows down.

As shy exhilaration takes hold of me, my lips part.

His eyes never leave my gaze even when the door opens and a crowd tidal-waves into the hotel with snow trailing in behind them. Icy air whips against the back of my body, so cold my breath hitches. Or is it because of him that I can no longer breathe?

He stops in front of me as though there is no one else in the room. The patrons start to ask me a question but see that something is happening between me and this man, and they decide not to interrupt, heading away and whispering.

“I fell asleep.”

I nod in a dazed way. “Oh.”

“Then I wanted to smell good for you.”

A smile spreads out from deep within my core, and I lean in to smell his freshly washed skin, kissing his neck before I look into his eyes and say, “You smell amazing.”

His olive complexion, tanned darker by years of lonely highway drives, flushes with a red tinge. He blinks to my hands and takes my keys. “Let’s go.”

I lace my arm through his and let him lead me out.

The two of us walking up Broad Street must make an interesting picture. Me, pink-lipped and rosy-cheeked with excited anticipation, dressed in a bonnet and gown – both out of style since 1892 and him like someone threw modern clothes on a man raised by wolves.

Quite a few heads turn.

Especially because I know so many of them.

I smile and nod to some, but when I can see they want to talk to me, I look at him and ignore their curiosity.

This is my life.

I get to have dinner with whomever I want.

As we near my car I glance to his intimidating profile. “You know where I parked?”

“Only to protect you,” he explains flatly, without fishing for gratitude.

He goes to the driver’s side and I start for the passenger’s. Then I decide, screw this, and clear my throat as he starts to get in.

Over the hood of my decade-old vehicle he locks eyes with me. He’s in the dark as to why I’m not getting in.

He did hit the button. My door is unlocked.

I clear my throat again.

“You sick?” he asks.

Stifling a laugh, I blink away toward the sky as tiny snowflakes drift into view. “No, I want you to open my door, like a man does for a woman.”

He blinks like one learning a new language, shuts his door and strolls around the back of the car, bits of white snow dotting his shiny, black hair. He grabs the door handle with so much strength I wouldn’t be surprised if it fell right off. His eyes drop to my nose. “A snowflake just landed here.” He touches it, then stares at my lips as I grow breathless again.

Honey Badger pulls me to him and kisses me softly, much more gently than when we kissed in the room. The tender pressing of his lips feels so sweet and intimate and I slip my arms around his neck and press my whole body into him. I can’t stop smiling as he pulls his head back to look at me, snowflakes dancing in the air around us.

“Meg, I’ll open every door for you…from now on until you die.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic,” I whisper, ignoring the reminder of my mortality. “Thank you.”

He guides me into the car and shuts it after I’ve tucked my costume inside. When he climbs in I ask, “You don’t know where I live, too, do you?”

He makes a face while firing up the engine. “Hell no. That’d be creepy as fuck.”

I stifle amusement and tell him which way to go.