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“Whatever,” I say. “Make it strong.”
He nods and gets pouring.
When he puts a tiny glass in front of me a minute later, I don’t even ask what’s in it. I raise the glass to my lips and tip my head backward, downing the liquid in one swallow.Vodka.The alcohol burns my throat and makes my eyes water. I do my best not to let it show, and drop the empty shot glass back on the counter.
With an annoying smirk stamped on his lips, the bartender asks, “Another one?”
“No, thanks,” I say. “One is fine. Put it on room 452.”
I don’t wait for the bartender’s response, but head straight for the elevators. The best man is about to get lucky; the least he can do is buy me a drink first.
“Don’t worry,” the bartender calls after me. “This one’s on the house.”
I ignore him and step into the elevator.
The ride up to the fourth floor is short enough to prevent any second-guessing, and in no time, I’m standing in front of room 452 knocking on the door.
5
SUMMER
Archie opens the door a few heartbeats later without even asking who it is. His face barely registers surprise at finding me standing on his doorstep.
Bastard.
He hasn’t changed clothes, except that he is now wearing hotel slippers instead of sneakers. The new ensemble should be ridiculous, but the prick looks even more handsome.
Arms crossed over his chest, he leans against the doorframe with a smug smile curling his lips. “What can I do for you?”
I don’t have the will to play cat and mouse, so I cut to the chase. “I’m ready to forget my name.”
Ice-blue eyes study me, X-raying me through to my core. Until, finally, Archie steps aside. “Come on in, then.”
I walk into the room, the door closing behind me with a loud click. This is it, I’m in. No turning back.
Archie is still studying me, and I can’t withstand the scrutiny. So, for lack of better alternatives, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.
This is the first time I’ve kissed someone with a beard, and it’s not what I expected. The hairs are soft and a bit ticklish, but leave the full lips underneath 100 per cent enjoyable.
At first, he doesn’t respond, probably taken aback by the suddenness of it all. But then he commits and kisses me back, already making me forget my name a little.
His hands brush past my waist, settling on the small of my back as his lips move slowly against mine, deepening the kiss only for a tortuously short moment before he pulls back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Archie holds me at arm’s length. “Are you drunk?” he asks, probably tasting the vodka on my lips.
“Don’t worry, I had one shot.” I raise a single finger. “You’re not taking advantage.”
I try to kiss him again, but he tilts his head backward and upward, away from me. Then he gently removes my arms from around his neck, and, still holding my wrists, places our joined limbs between us like a barrier.
“Sorry,” he says. “Not how this is going to work.”
I frown, confused. “What? You have a no-kissing policy?”
If that’s the case, I’m leaving faster than the Road Runner from Wile E. Coyote.
Beep Beep!
“Oh, no. We’re going to kiss,” Archie says, and I relax and tense at the same time. “Just not yet.”
