The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(68)

“What?” I shriek. I’m so distracted that I bump into an old lady walking past. “I’m so sorry,” I call as I watch her hobble away.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Knocking over grannies. What do you fucking mean, gentle and easy? How do you fuck gentle and easy, and more importantly, why would anyone want to?” I begin to sweat. “I’m going to screw this up for sure.”

“It’s fine.”

I begin to freak out. “I don’t . . . this is a bad idea . . . I don’t know why. What the fuck was I thinking?” I cry.

“Calm down.”

“Calm down.” My eyes nearly pop from my head. “Calm down? You calm the fuck down,” I cry. “This is a disaster.”

“I’ll book a hotel for you.”

“Okay.” I stop on the spot and begin to pace. I inhale deeply as I try to calm myself. “Something nice . . . with a spa.”

“All right, I’ll text you the address.”

I imagine being naked in a spa bath with Hayden, and nerves simmer in my stomach.

Fuck.

I stop on the spot, the importance of this night suddenly now more evident than ever.

As if sensing my impending meltdown, Elliot says calmly, “It’s okay, buddy. You’ve got this. Just stay out of your head, and you’ll be fine.”

I nod.

“Don’t even think about it. I’ll text you the address of the hotel. Pack an overnight bag and go and pick her up from work like normal, and you’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” I nod. He’s right.

“Maybe swing past a pharmacy and pick up some lube.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes,” I spit. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” I hang up in a rush.

I march up the stairs of the hostel and walk straight to my locker. I get out the gift I bought for Eddie. I’ve missed that little fucker.

I walk out to the bar area. He’s serving up the other end and doesn’t notice me. I slink onto a stool. He drifts in and out of languages like a pro, and I watch in awe. He turns and notices me, and his face lights up, and my stomach does a flip.

I frown. What was that?

“Hey.” He smiles.

“My man.” I laugh.

“Where the hell did you go?”

“I had some shit to do at home.” I pass him his gift. “I got you something.”

He stares at the baseball cap with wide eyes. It’s navy blue with the white letters NY on the front. “That stands for New York,” I tell him.

His mouth falls open, and it’s as if I have bestowed him with a sacred family jewel. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “This is incredible.” He passes it back to me. “But I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”

“I want you to have it.”

“You’ve already given me so much.”

“Put it on,” I demand.

He puts it on and bends down to look at his reflection in the shiny refrigerator doors. He smiles proudly. “How do I look?”

“Great.” I smile. His happiness is infectious.

Fuck, I love this kid.

“Thank you so much.” He puts his hand over mine on the bar, and I just want to hug him. But I won’t, because I’ll come off creepy, and he’s just a kid behind the bar that I shouldn’t want to hug.

“Miss Hazen.” He gasps.

“Yes, I’ll see her tonight.”

“She’s been waiting for you to come back.”

Thank god.

“I’m taking her somewhere special tonight.” My phone beeps with a text. Elliot.

Bella Donna

Two nights.

Shit, two nights. That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it? Who the hell can be gentle for two nights in a row?

Ugh, this is all . . .

I guess I’ll play it by ear. I could be in dumpsville tomorrow anyway. The spa bath will come in handy to drown myself.

There are people waiting for Eddie to serve them. “You want a beer?” he asks.

“Um.” I frown, and Elliot’s words come back to me. “No, I’m good. I’ll catch you later, buddy.”

He smiles. “Thanks for my hat. I’ll never take it off.”





HAYDEN

I fly around the restaurant at lightning speed. Cleaning up has never been more urgent.

I glance at my watch. He’ll be here any minute. I wipe my palms on my apron, wet and clammy. Shit . . . I’m nervous. And I shouldn’t be. It’s just Christopher, but seeing him be nervous—someone who has absolutely zero to be nervous about—has now made me nervous. I should be nervous.

I haven’t slept with a thousand people and am totally inexperienced, I don’t have a figure to die for, and damn it, last time we made out, he ran for the hills.

I peer out the front window and see him walking up the street toward our meeting spot. I narrow my eyes to study him further. He’s dressed in a nice shirt and jeans and has an overnight bag with him.

Huh?

Are we going somewhere?

Oh no . . . I need to shower, and I need to shave my legs, and damn it, he can’t just surprise me with a night away on our first date. Another thought comes to my mind. Oh crap, he would have gone through my backpack to get my clothes, and I have dirty washing in there, and . . . ugh.