“Famished.” I don’t tell her that I’d rather taste her than the burger I ordered, but disappointment has already settled in for losing the opportunity before she hops off my lap.
I stand and go to the door, and she detours to the window. I can’t help but notice when I look back that she’s like a kid staring into a candy shop, studying anything and everything that the glow of the Christmas lights around the outside of our window gives life to in the darkness beyond.
Opening the door, I greet the room service attendant, then step aside so he can push the cart into the room. He says, “Merry Christmas, sir.”
“Merry Christmas.”
My gaze travels across the room to look at the woman who’s making this holiday more special than I could’ve ever imagined just by being here.
When I turn back, though, the attendant has also noticed Story as well. I step between him and my girlfriend, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him a chance to redirect his attention to me. “You working all night?” I ask, irritation causing my tone to clip.
His eyes quickly return to setting up the table, adjusting the wings, and draping the cloth over the exposed sides. With his head down, he replies, “Working the overnight shift.”
Story crosses the room, her eyes set on the food. “I’m so hungry.” The guy lifts a silver dome. She steals a fry and giggles. “Thanks.”
Yeah, thanks, fucker. That’s my job. I open the door, ready for him to leave. “Thanks. I got it from here.”
“Yes, sir.” When he dares to glance up at her again, to give her body a shameless once-over and not bother to be covert about it, jealousy begins coursing through my veins. I shoot him a glare that could kill if it was a weapon. Alas, I haven’t developed that superpower.
His eyes hold a challenge that I’ve seen my whole life. He can’t be much older than I am, but we’re on opposite sides of this situation. A little arrogance hardens his shoulders as he returns to the door. He stops in the hallway, and says, “Sign the tab and you can leave it on the cart to be picked up later.”
“Yep. Got it.”
Once again, he looks beyond me to catch sight of my girlfriend . . . Girlfriend? The word feels childish for what we are and what I’m starting to realize we’ll be. The big picture stuff is coming in heavy today. But isn’t that why I left Haywood on Christmas Eve to be with her? Yeah.
“Merry Christmas,” he adds just as Story says the same. I let the door slam closed before the words have a chance to end.
With my adrenaline still pumping, I turn back to her, knowing exactly how I’m going to burn through it. I’m about to eye the bed and drop some stupid come-on line, but Story’s staring at me like I might have just lost my chance.
Picking up another fry, she bites the end and studies me. I ask, “What?”
“What was that exactly?” Waggling the fry in my direction, she asks, “Was that jealousy I just witnessed, Mr. Haywood?”
I could lie, but I’m supposed to be turning over a new leaf . . . “It was.”
“Do we need to talk about it?” She finishes the fry.
As I move back to the cart, my stomach growls from the smell of the food filling the air around us. “I think it was obvious.” I start lifting dome lids to see what surprises are beneath. “The dude thought he’d flirt with you right in front of me.”
She covers my hand, stopping me from lifting the last lid, and tilts her head down to look me in the eyes. “And if he weren’t doing it right in front of you, how would you react?”
“Truthfully?”
“Of course.”
“If I knew about it, I’d probably find him and have a talk.” I grab one of the thick-cut fries.
She laughs, but the humor’s lost in it. Standing straighter, she asks, “And by talk, you mean . . .?”
“I’d punch his fucking face.” I bite off the top of the fry as if that somehow illustrates my voracity for her or the fries.
Surprise grips her—those pretty lips parting, eyes widening—and her head jars her neck. “You’d do that because he lifted a lid on my food and wished us a Merry Christmas?”
“No, for how he looked at you when you weren’t watching.”
The shock softens into a different form in her features. She’s about to say something but closes her mouth. Redirected on the cart, she takes a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes, and licks her lips before sucking in the bottom one.
She slowly exhales, then looks up at me again. Touching her forehead, she says, “I think I’m feeling a bit light-headed. I should eat something.”