Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“Hey, Hailee, can you run up the room service tray to Aiden’s room? I’ll watch the front desk,” Mr. Lee requested.
I raised an eyebrow. “What? Can’t someone from the bar and grill do that like they normally do?”
“Carly was the only runner here and went home sick.”
What kind of bug was going around the inn?
I grumbled a bit. “Can Henry take them?”
“He’s out back. Go, please. I don’t want to keep him waiting.” Mr. Lee waved me away, so frustratedly, I did my job. I carried the tray up the stairs. Seconds before I knocked on Aiden’s door, my stomach twisted into knots. When he opened the door with a smile, it hurt to see how fast it faded from his face when he realized it was me.
“What do you want?” he barked.
“Nothing. You’re the one who requested room service, so here it is.”
He grumbled something under his breath. “Fine.”
“Would you like me to set it down on your table?”
He stepped to the side to let me in. My skin felt tingly from being in the intimate space with him. I set the tray on the table, uncovered his meal, a burger and fries, and poured his beer into the chilled glass. “There you go. If there is anything else you need, you can let me know or—”
“Ketchup.” He cut me off. His new favorite habit.
“Oh. Right. Okay. I’ll be right back.”
I hurried down the steps and shot to the kitchen, then came back up with the ketchup. “Here you go.”
“How did you forget mustard?” he rudely asked.
“Um, maybe because you didn’t mention mustard?”
“I did. I said ketchup and mustard.”
“No.” I stood taller. “You said ketchup. Since when do you even like mustard?”
“Let’s not act as if you know who I am anymore.”
Here we go again. Don’t take the bait, Hailee.
I gave him a bright smile. “Let me go grab that for you.”
I hurried downstairs—again—and came back up with yellow mustard.
He scrunched up his face. “You don’t have Dijon?”
“You have got to be kidding me right now, Aiden. Just take the mustard.” I shoved the bottle against his chest.
He shoved it back. “I want Dijon.”
“I”—shove—“don’t have Dijon.”
“Well, I don’t want this,” he growled back, shoving it back toward me.
“Aiden, stop.” I pushed it toward him, and he pushed back.
“You stop.”
Neither one of us would. We pushed back and forth until Aiden accidentally squeezed the bottle, and the mustard exploded all in my face.
“Ahh!” I screamed, dropping my hold on the bottle.
“Fuck, sorry,” he muttered. Rushing to the bathroom, he grabbed a towel and started wiping my face. I yanked the towel from his hand.
“I got this,” I muttered, wiping the mustard from my face. It was in holes where mustard didn’t belong. My nostrils, my ears, my eyes.
“It’s in your hair, too. Let me get it,” he said. “Shit,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated.
I didn’t know why, but I started laughing. I began giggling like a fool over the whole situation. There was mustard everywhere. In my hair, up my nose, under my fingernails. I became hysterical in a fit of laughter, and Aiden began to laugh, too. Oh, how I missed his laughter.
When was the last time you laughed, Aiden?
For a moment, we felt like us again. Him picking mustard out of my hair, me wiping it out of my eyelashes. We laughed together, and my soul felt healed. It felt right laughing with him, which was exactly what led to me falling apart within the next few seconds. My hysterical laughter transformed into hysterical sobs. My tears intermixed with mustard as they rolled down my cheeks.
“Hailee, don’t,” Aiden pleaded, his voice cracking as he stood before me.
I covered my mouth with my hands and shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make the mess, and I should’ve just gone and got the mustard and—”
“No.” He let out a weighted breath. His hard expression was softer now, gentler. His eyes reminded me of the boy who once loved me. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t do this to me.” He palmed the nape of his neck, appearing conflicted. “Don’t cry.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you cry, I’ll want to comfort you, and I can’t comfort you… so please don’t. Don’t make me stop hating you, Hailee. I’ve spent a lot of years building up this hatred for you, and it’s not fair for you to just come along and knock it down.”
I took a step toward him. “Aiden, I…”
“Please,” he begged, holding up a halting hand in my direction. “Because every time you come near me…” A deep growl of irritation escaped his lips as he shook his head. “Just keep your distance, all right? And I’ll keep mine.” He walked to the door to open it for me to leave.