Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Nothing is ever awkward with Hugh was the last conscious thought I had before I dropped into sleep.
10
HUGH
I woke to the furtive sounds of a man sneaking out of the room. They were sounds I was intimately familiar with, but it took me a moment to assign these particular furtive sounds to Oscar Overton.
“Coward,” I muttered with a sleepy grumble.
He grunted in surprise. “I’m a coward for needing better coffee than this in-room shit? So be it. Do you even know what time it is in China?”
I turned over and stretched, idly noticing the warm imprint from his body on the sheets next to me. “Bedtime, I presume.”
It took me another moment to realize Oscar didn’t look at all nervous or embarrassed. His wallet and phone were on the other side of the room, where he’d placed them last night, and I mentally reassessed my appraisal of the situation.
Had he truly been planning on returning here with coffee?
Oscar rubbed a finger under his eye to clear out the sleep dust. “Exactly. And I’m supposed to get up and stay awake for the next twenty hours, so I’m going to need something better than a stale pod and instant creamer. James told me they have a good dark roast in the lobby. Stay here, and I’ll bring you some.”
He didn’t wait for my response. Instead, he stepped through the open door and let it close behind him with a soft snick.
I took the opportunity to reach a hand over to the warm spot beside me and run the back of my fingers across the rumpled sheets. Memories of the night before hung like soft clouds in my head as I struggled to wake up. Oscar’s sweet teasing. My rambling attempt to lull him into slumber. The feel of his skin under my fingers and the light scratch of his leg hair against mine.
The knowledge that just for a little while, he’d been here with me, in my arms and in my bed.
I blew out a breath and sat up, pushing the sappy thoughts from my mind. Nobody, including myself, wanted a lovestruck daydreamer mooning over someone who was supposed to be safely in the friend zone.
After a quick visit to the bathroom and rifling through my bag for a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, I opened the curtains and allowed the summer sun to stream in. Giant hydrangeas dotted the grassy area in front of my room, their blossoms nodding in the breeze off the water, and in the distance, seagulls called to one another with raucous joy.
The perfect day for a wedding.
Oscar let himself back in the room with a key he must have grabbed off the table. “One skinny mocha latte with nonfat whip,” he said cheerfully.
I stared at him, trying not to puff up in pleasant surprise that he’d remembered my coffee of choice, which I must have mentioned in a random message months ago. “They had that in the lobby?”
“No,” he said with a laugh, thrusting a paper coffee cup at me before sitting in one of the chairs positioned at a round table in the corner of the room. “It’s drip coffee with cream and sugar. Suck it up.”
I took the cup happily and cradled it in my hands while he opened a paper bag and pulled out several pastries to set on paper napkins.
Oscar as a willing, morning-after breakfast companion was throwing me off-balance. “Thank you. I, ah… didn’t expect this.”
“No, you expected me to sneak the fuck out when it bears mentioning you were the one who snuck out last time. Though if we’re talking about surprises…” He tilted his head at me and grinned. “I didn’t take you for someone so slow to wake up. You always seem chipper and perky, I figured you were a morning person.”
“God no. Definitely not. I work nights half the time.”
Oscar eyed me over his cup as I took the other chair at the table. “Working nights and weekends must cut into your dating time. Do you ever wonder if that’s partly responsible for your relationship…”
“Failure?” I finished with a laugh. “I’d like to say yes, but I’d be lying.”
I took a croissant from a napkin he held out and bit into it, purposely avoiding engaging with him about my relationships or lack thereof. Unfortunately, he didn’t take the hint. If anything, he looked at me even more intently.
“I think,” I began slowly, “it’s that after everything with Jared, I’ve learned to be fairly up-front about what I want. I mean, I don’t talk about marriage the first time I meet a guy—”
Oscar raised a teasing eyebrow, and I blushed.
“That was different. You and I were at a wedding, and we couldn’t help talking about it,” I insisted. “I don’t put it out there quite that way ordinarily. But happily ever afters are literally what I do all day, so the minute someone asks about work or hobbies, the conversation veers in that direction.”