“I hope all your zits return.”
“What?”
“We’ll take it.” Leo presses his palm to my back, and with his free hand, gives Dorian his card.
My shoulders slump, all fight is lost. “Are you sure?”
“It’ll be okay,” he says soothingly. I know fifteen hundred dollars is nothing to someone like Leo, but I can’t even fathom paying this much for a hotel room. Maybe for one in Paris overlooking the Eiffel Tower, but not in Northern Ohio with a view of a rusty water tower.
While Leo’s paying for the room, I text Tilly, letting her know I won’t make it for girls’ night. She suggests we reschedule for tomorrow. I don’t tell her about my new lodging situation with Leo. I’m still trying to process it myself. We have no extra clothes. No things whatsoever. Well, that’s not exactly true. I slap a hand to my forehead. The antiques! “I’ll be right back,” I blurt before darting back into the cold. Of all the days to wear heels instead of boots. If anyone looks out their windows, they’ll see me high-stepping as if I’m reenacting my marching band era. All because my wimpy ankles protest being submerged in snow.
I grab the Christmas decorations from the back of the car. It’s less about someone stealing a boring-looking tub and more about the extreme cold. Mom may have ruined the paint on a few bulbs, but temperature fluctuations can make glass susceptible to cracks and brittleness. So I lug the bulky container into the hotel and meet a confused Leo by the elevator.
He pushes the up button, then lifts the tub from my hands. “I would’ve gotten this for you.” He seems mildly offended I didn’t ask. “I take it that whatever’s inside is worth rushing outside in a ten-degree blizzard.”
The doors ding open. “Those are Gran’s antiques. Long story, but it was a rescue mission,” I say as we step into the elevator. “I got them from Pap’s this morning before dashing off in a competitive fury.” Which was all for nothing. “Antiques don’t hold up well in extreme temps. I didn’t want to risk it.”
He nods and hits the floor button with his elbow. “Good idea.”
I fix my tired stare on my shoes, trying not to think of how I got here. The elevator starts, and my stomach flips. Though I’m unsure if my roiling gut is caused by a turbulent lift ride or the fact that I’m spending the night with Leo. “I’ll, uh, split the room cost.”
“It’s all good.” Something sparks in his dark eyes. “Fifteen hundred dollars is a small price to make your dreams come true.”
My shocked squeak bounces off the walls. “Leo Mathis, what are you talking about?”
His grin turns mischievous. “You’re the one who’s been dying to know what I wear to sleep. You finally get your answer.”
Then I realize what he’s doing. He’s trying to nudge me out of my hazy funk. All day I’ve been … off. Like the second I get close to finding my equilibrium, something knocks me off balance. Oddly enough, Leo’s teasing helps ground me.
I playfully knock his shoulder with mine. “Well, I’m looking at what you’re sleeping in. We don’t have any extra clothes.”
“Says who?” His smile is smug, and I have the unholy urge to kiss it. “I have clean hoodies and sweats in my gym bag.”
My skin nearly screams to get out of this jumper. A girl can only wear wool for so long. “Are you planning on sharing the goods?”
“I am.”
I look at Leo like he’s a Fabergé egg. “Thank you.”
The elevator opens, reminding me of our destination. The honeymoon suite.
I follow Leo down the hall and sputter a laugh. “I’m guessing the door with the vinyl conversation hearts all over it is the Sugar Rush Room.” My gaze skims over the bold colored words shaped like the popular candy—Luv Machine, Bae-Watch, U R My Boo Thang.
Keeping it classy, Sugarvale Inn.
“You’d be correct.” He carefully places the tub on the floor and inserts the key card in the door slot. The corners of his mouth lift. “Want me to carry you over the threshold?”
I snort. “Don’t you dare. I’m freaking out as it is.” I meant it as a joke, but the smile drops from his face.
“You’re safe with me.” His tone’s both soft and adamant. “You know that, right?” I’ve read novels where the hero declares to set the world ablaze for the heroine, as if it’s some romantic gesture to incinerate humankind on a woman’s behalf. With Leo? He’d be the one to carry me out of the flames, to do everything in his power to protect me from the fire.
I place a hand on his arm, reassuring him. “I know.” And with that, I step into the honeymoon suite. “Uhh … Wow.”
Leo trails behind, bringing in my tub and closing the door. I turn to watch his initial reaction to the space and am not disappointed. His eyes widen in a what-is-happening kind of way.
Iridescent inflatable chairs shaped like gummy bears are positioned on a waffle-cone-print rug. The king-sized mattress is framed by four bedposts wrapped in red and white crepe paper to resemble peppermint sticks. Mr. and Mrs. Claus sugar cookies are on fluffy marshmallow pillows. A strip of multi-colored LED lights runs around the entirety of the space, where the walls meet the ceiling.
It’s gloriously tacky.
