of underwear, one of her trusty cotton baby t-shirts and a
long blue woolen cardigan. She quickly dressed and then ran a brush through her
hair, pushing her feet back into the slippers.
Are you seriously considering knocking on his door?
Yes…yes I am!
She revisited the bathroom on shaky legs and grabbed her
drink from the side of the bath, approached the black marble vanity and stared
into the mirror. Her skin was pink from her hot soak, her eyes surprisingly
refreshed, the puffiness underneath almost completely gone.
“Are you really ready to do this?” she pleaded with
her reflection.
Her grandmother’s cheeky smile appeared over her shoulder as
it had done many times since she’d passed over fourteen years ago. If you’re
not ready, sweetheart, let me at him. This one’s a keeper.
Sam closed her eyes, tears threatening to surface, and
chuckled at her nana’s message. She always showed up at the most unexpected
times, but tonight Sam was grateful. Those words were the extra nudge she
needed to gather enough courage.
Her feet moved, reluctant at first, but she picked up her
room key and opened the door. She stood frozen inside her slippers then slowly
closed the door, banging her head against the back of it, once, twice, three
times.
Ouch!
I can’t do this. It’s just not me!
Her heart beat a mile a minute and the palms of her hands
were sweaty. She rubbed them on her jeans.
Move your butt, girlie, before he drinks himself silly
trying to forget about you. Get moving!
The last two words boomed inside her brain.
Shit, Nan…don’t have to shout. I’d better not regret
this.
Sam glanced at the clock on the table. “What if it’s too
late and he’s already asleep?”
She swiped the bottle of Jack off the top of the bar. “I’m going,
Nan. Would you please piss off now? I can’t do what I’m about to knowing you’re
hanging around.”
Aren’t you forgetting something, sweetheart?
Sam stopped and looked around the room, slightly bewildered.
The whipped cream. Nan’s chortle rebounded in her
head.
Sam slumped and lowered her head, a smile on her lips.
“You’re a cheeky bugger, Nan. Give my love to Pop…’night.”
She closed the door behind her with the silent knowledge
that her grandmother had left London for the night. Swinging the bottle of liquor
at her side, she walked the short distance to room 803, trying to keep her
nerves from jumping out of her skin.
Chapter Four
Sam stood still as a statue outside his door for at least
five minutes, trying to talk her clammy hand into knocking. A devil sat on one
of her shoulders, an angel on the other, and they were about to kick one
another’s arses.
Music came from inside the room. She wasn’t prepared when
the door swung open.
Did I knock? I don’t remember knocking.
He was dressed in only dark blue jeans. Her eyes roamed from
his bare feet up to his face, soaking in the glorious view in between.
“Hey!” he said, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “Can’t sleep
either, huh?”
She tried not to stare at the small muscles that rippled
just above the waistband of his jeans, how they shifted beneath his skin with
each breath he took. Her gaze drifted down to his feet. Feet were safe, weren’t
they? He wiggled his toes as if reading her mind.
“Ah…I’ve disturbed you, haven’t I? I thought maybe…I mean
I…I’m sorry. It must be the jetlag…or something. Here, I think this was meant
for you.” She handed him the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, thanking her lucky stars
she’d decided to take it with her at the last minute. It was the perfect escape
for her now-cold feet. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go through with
this.
“Thanks. Join me?”
Those two little words sent her insides quivering and her
heart racing. She glanced down the hall to the safety of her room, wanting to
run. “Ah no. I’ve really got to get some sleep, but we’re still on for
breakfast, right?”
He stared at her a long
long blue woolen cardigan. She quickly dressed and then ran a brush through her
hair, pushing her feet back into the slippers.
Are you seriously considering knocking on his door?
Yes…yes I am!
She revisited the bathroom on shaky legs and grabbed her
drink from the side of the bath, approached the black marble vanity and stared
into the mirror. Her skin was pink from her hot soak, her eyes surprisingly
refreshed, the puffiness underneath almost completely gone.
“Are you really ready to do this?” she pleaded with
her reflection.
Her grandmother’s cheeky smile appeared over her shoulder as
it had done many times since she’d passed over fourteen years ago. If you’re
not ready, sweetheart, let me at him. This one’s a keeper.
Sam closed her eyes, tears threatening to surface, and
chuckled at her nana’s message. She always showed up at the most unexpected
times, but tonight Sam was grateful. Those words were the extra nudge she
needed to gather enough courage.
Her feet moved, reluctant at first, but she picked up her
room key and opened the door. She stood frozen inside her slippers then slowly
closed the door, banging her head against the back of it, once, twice, three
times.
Ouch!
I can’t do this. It’s just not me!
Her heart beat a mile a minute and the palms of her hands
were sweaty. She rubbed them on her jeans.
Move your butt, girlie, before he drinks himself silly
trying to forget about you. Get moving!
The last two words boomed inside her brain.
Shit, Nan…don’t have to shout. I’d better not regret
this.
Sam glanced at the clock on the table. “What if it’s too
late and he’s already asleep?”
She swiped the bottle of Jack off the top of the bar. “I’m going,
Nan. Would you please piss off now? I can’t do what I’m about to knowing you’re
hanging around.”
Aren’t you forgetting something, sweetheart?
Sam stopped and looked around the room, slightly bewildered.
The whipped cream. Nan’s chortle rebounded in her
head.
Sam slumped and lowered her head, a smile on her lips.
“You’re a cheeky bugger, Nan. Give my love to Pop…’night.”
She closed the door behind her with the silent knowledge
that her grandmother had left London for the night. Swinging the bottle of liquor
at her side, she walked the short distance to room 803, trying to keep her
nerves from jumping out of her skin.
Chapter Four
Sam stood still as a statue outside his door for at least
five minutes, trying to talk her clammy hand into knocking. A devil sat on one
of her shoulders, an angel on the other, and they were about to kick one
another’s arses.
Music came from inside the room. She wasn’t prepared when
the door swung open.
Did I knock? I don’t remember knocking.
He was dressed in only dark blue jeans. Her eyes roamed from
his bare feet up to his face, soaking in the glorious view in between.
“Hey!” he said, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “Can’t sleep
either, huh?”
She tried not to stare at the small muscles that rippled
just above the waistband of his jeans, how they shifted beneath his skin with
each breath he took. Her gaze drifted down to his feet. Feet were safe, weren’t
they? He wiggled his toes as if reading her mind.
“Ah…I’ve disturbed you, haven’t I? I thought maybe…I mean
I…I’m sorry. It must be the jetlag…or something. Here, I think this was meant
for you.” She handed him the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, thanking her lucky stars
she’d decided to take it with her at the last minute. It was the perfect escape
for her now-cold feet. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go through with
this.
“Thanks. Join me?”
Those two little words sent her insides quivering and her
heart racing. She glanced down the hall to the safety of her room, wanting to
run. “Ah no. I’ve really got to get some sleep, but we’re still on for
breakfast, right?”
He stared at her a long
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