Page 46 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

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CLEMENTINE

Bring on the awkward. I could practically feel him retreating into himself. He was putting up those walls I watched come down throughout the evening. The kiss completely obliterated any semblance of that wall.

“So, uh, I guess you can take Conroy’s room,” he said.

His enthusiasm was so flattering.

“Sorry,” I said.

I didn’t know why I was sorry. I wasn’t the one naked in the hotel room. I might have been just a little jealous.

“It’s fine. The place is big enough.”

We stepped across the hall. He unlocked his door and stepped aside to let me in. The brooding chef I first met was firmly back in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, but his tone suggested anything but comfort. There was an edge to his voice, a tension in the set of his shoulders that hadn’t been there when we were laughing in the hallway.

I stepped into his suite and immediately understood why he seemed irritated. This wasn’t just a hotel room. The place was clearly his private sanctuary.

“Holy shit,” I said. “Someone is living large.”

“I paid for the room,” he said defensively.

The suite was gorgeous. There were two separate bedrooms, a living area, and what looked like a full kitchen visible through an archway.

He was making me feel very unwanted.

“You know, I’ll just go down to the front desk and see if they have another room,” I said.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, running a hand through his dark hair. “Stay. I’m sorry about this whole situation. Conroy and Simone should have thought about the fact that other people might need access to that room.”

He was trying to be cool and polite. He used a tone that said this was an inconvenience he was tolerating out of necessity rather than desire.

It stung, especially after the way he kissed me earlier. He had been so normal. Talking about his mom and just being a normal man. I wanted that guy back.

“I could go down to the lobby and wait for them to, uh, finish,” I offered, though the thought of sitting in those chairs until God knew when didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. “Or ask for another room.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s after one in the morning.” His dismissal was swift but not unkind. “You can take Conroy’s bed. He hasn’t slept in it yet.”

My gaze drifted to the kitchen. I found myself gravitating toward it almost automatically. Kitchens had always been my refuge when I felt unsettled. It was the one place where I could center myself and find my confidence again. Kitchens were a constant. And the kitchen in the suite was gorgeous. And fairly large. There were high-end appliances with the kind of setup any serious cook would kill for.

Maybe it was designed for the many chefs that visited Miami. It was definitely one of the culinary meccas of the world.

I opened the refrigerator, partly out of curiosity and partly because I needed something to do with my hands. What I found inside made me smile despite my mood. Even in a hotel suite, even on vacation, Rhett had managed to stock the fridge with beautiful ingredients. Fresh herbs, artisanal cheeses, perfectly ripe produce. The man couldn’t help himself.

“Getting familiar with my food?” His voice came from behind me, carrying just a hint of amusement that gave me hope the brooding might be temporary.

“Just admiring your groceries. Even on tour, you can’t resist collecting ingredients.”

“Old habits.”

I turned to face him, struck by a sudden inspiration. “Want to have a cook-off?”

He blinked at me like I suggested we rob a bank. “It’s one in the morning.”

“So? We’re both clearly too wired to sleep, thanks to witnessing Conroy’s love life in high definition. Besides.” I gestured at the impressive array of ingredients. “You’ve got everything we need right here.”