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“No, silly, you’re thinking of burritos. Street tacos are small.” She smiles. “Anyway, everyone was quite gracious, and asked about Papa. People really love him.”
“There’s a lot to love. He’s a good man who cares for his team and his family.”
We stand there and smile awkwardly, me near the sofa and her near the door. She looks down at her boots, then looks up at me.
“I’m kind of embracing this cowgirl thing. I might wear these all weekend.”
I imagine her wearing them with a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a wet T-shirt and almost groan aloud as my dick tingles to life. In my core, I’m a horny dog, like most men. I try to keep this under wraps, but Lily brings out that side of me. “Are they comfortable?”
“Very.” She smiles. She’s also wearing a low-cut blouse that shows off her cleavage. I force myself to stare at her forehead, because I don’t want her to think I’m a total perv.
Even though that’s exactly what I feel like.
I scratch my arm nervously. “Oh! I put your suitcase in the main bedroom. You can sleep there. I thought I’d take the sofa.”
A horrified look crosses her face. “Oh my god. I thought there were two bedrooms in here. There aren’t?”
“No, not in this hotel. I was mistaken. Last year we stayed at another hotel and those suites have multiple bedrooms. The suites here all have a big living room and a bedroom, and a little kitchen area. I’m sorry if it’s awkward.”
Her mouth opens, then closes, and I chatter on about the view and the minibar. I even go to the window and open the curtain.
“See the view, it’s quite nice. Downtown Austin. There’s the Texas Capitol building over there. And that’s the University of Texas Tower.” What the fuck am I, a realtor? A tour guide?
She rubs her forehead, still with a stunned expression on her face. “You have to practice tomorrow, so you should take the bed. The sofa’s fine by me.”
“I couldn’t do that, no.”
“Why? Please?”
“Nope.”
Her expression has morphed into exasperation. “Listen, I have a bit of a headache and don’t want to argue. I’m going to shower. Where’s the bathroom? Are there two?”
“Oh, uh, it’s in here. There’s only one, unfortunately.” I walk quickly into the bedroom, and she follows. I point to the ensuite. The atmosphere seems charged with electricity now that we’re both standing near a bed.
“Thanks again.”
“I’ll let you shower.” I back out of the room, my heart pounding, and shut the bedroom door behind me.
In the living room, at the faint strains of a suitcase zipper, I pace and tug at my hair. That was so awkward. Terrible. As if we are strangers, and not two people who used to have sex a couple of times a night, in various places (some of them wildly inappropriate).
I guess I shouldn’t have expected more. Shouldn’t have thought we could go back to our old friendship or fall back into whatever we’d been doing before.
I flop down on the sofa and grab a blue blanket slung over the back, throwing it over my body in exasperation.
Chapter Seventeen
LILY
This is a disaster, staying here. I’m in the bedroom with the door closed, shaking because my nerves are so jangled. I’d assumed that I’d at least have my own space, but dammit, this suite is actually miniscule. Like a small apartment in New York City.
I pull pajamas out of my bag and glance around the room.
It’s decorated in bright red, pale blue, and white colors. There’s a bright red chair stuffed into a corner. A blanket in a matching red southwest pattern is tossed over the back. It’s like an American flag exploded, and the overall effect makes me feel even more jittery. There’s even a framed black-and-white photo of an old man with a beard on the wall opposite the bed, above the TV, and suddenly it registers that it’s country star Willie Nelson.
I plunk down on the bed, staring up at Willie, who is strumming a guitar in the photo. Who would want to look at that face while having sex?
More importantly, why am I thinking about sex while in Max’s hotel suite, on the bed that he’s supposed to sleep in?
