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“I can help,” I countered before exiting the vehicle.
Beau shook his head. “It’sverycold, Samantha.”
I got out, grabbed a few things, and raced inside behind him, wishing I’d put on the gloves and hat Beau had stashed in the glove box for me.
He set Wanda’s carrier on the floor, then brushed the snow from my hair. “Stay put. I’ll get the rest,” he said, walking out before I could argue. Not that I intended to. The snow was falling a lot harder now, making me wonder if we’d be able to leave tomorrow.
I took Wanda from the carrier and held her in my arms. “This is some crazy adventure we’re on, girlfriend.” She snuggled her head under my chin.
“May I help you, miss?” an older man who’d come out from behind a closed door asked.
“We’re checking in.”
He nodded and sorted through several pieces of paper, then walked over to where I stood, waiting for Beau.
“This must be Miss Wanda. May I?” he asked. I shifted her so the man could pet her.
“How did you know her name?”
“We always ask when someone says they’re bringing their pet along. We also have some treats at the desk if she’s allowed.”
“That’s so kind, and yes, she’s allowed.”
He rushed back to the counter and pulled out a bag at the same time Beau came inside, carrying our things and Wanda’s. “You must be Mr. Barnaby,” he said to the man.
“Just Barnaby, and welcome,” he responded, handing me the bag of treats. The two men greeted each other like old friends rather than people who’d just met, as was so often the case with Beau.
“I’ll have dinner sent up in thirty minutes,” he said after we’d finished checking in.
“Dinner?” I said once we were in the elevator.
“Yes. I took the liberty of ordering for both of us.”
I didn’t mind. He knew what I liked and didn’t.
Like in Vegas, Beau had reserved a suite and there was only one bedroom. I didn’t care about that, either. It would’ve been silly to. We shared a bed in the same way I might with a girlfriend. Except—itwasn’tthe same.
I couldn’t say I remembered ever being physically attracted to him before. Granted, I was six years old when we met, but even as we both got older and hung out, I always saw him as a friend. I hated how different it felt now. Hated that my pulse raced every time he touched me. Hated that when he’d slept shirtless last night, I wanted to rest my head on his chest and trace his ink with my fingertip. And those boxer briefs? My God—I’d done everything I could not to look; however, my pussy was still drenched. Mostly, though, I hated the longing I felt, wishing he’d touch me—everywhere.
“I’m going to take a shower if you don’t mind,” I said once I’d gotten my cat settled.
Beau was studying something on his phone like he had been in Vegas. When he looked up at me, his brow was furrowed. “Why would I mind?”
I groaned, grabbed my bag, and went into the bathroom without responding. When I came out, our dinner had arrived.
He stood, walked over to the table where silver domes covered two plates, and pulled out a chair. Once I was seated, he removed theclochefrom the opposite plate. “My dinner,” he announced, uncovering a cheeseburger and fries. “And yours,” he said, doing the same to mine but with an added flourish.
I laughed out loud at the two tacos made with corn tortillas, a generous amount of chips made from the same, along with a bowl of corn salsa.
“Both cravings satisfied,” he said, taking his seat. “I attempted to add Mexican street corn, but poor Barnaby was at a loss as to what that was.”
“No Nebraska street corn?”
Beau laughed. “I’m afraid that’s only available in the summer months.”
The following day,we drove as far as Chicago, where Beau suggested we stay somewhere other than the hotel he owned. I assured him I didn’t care, and he relented. It had been a long day of driving, and we were both exhausted.
When a steak dinner was delivered to our room, I nearly kissed him. Thankfully, before embarrassing both of us, I thought better of it.
