Kiss and Don't Tell(9)

“I can show you to your room,” Pacey says, picking up my backpack and hoisting it over his shoulder.

I look between the two men who I just met, and even though I still feel as if this isn’t a good idea, I don’t think my other option is better. Warm bed, or cold, frigid night trying to find my car while sinking into the mud. One comes with possible abduction—although, I think we might have established these guys are okay—the other comes with possible broken bones.

Succumbing, I say, “Okay.”

“Good.” Eli looks behind him again. “I’m going to go check on Taters. Lawes, you don’t mind showing her to her room?”

“Nah, I got it,” Pacey says casually. He nods toward a hallway in the opposite direction Potato went. “Come this way.”

As I start to walk away, Levi holds up his hand in a wave while he picks at the trail mix Potato didn’t finish. “Have a good night. See you in the morning.”

He’s funny.

“Good night,” I call out, and then I follow Pacey down the hallway. He turns on lights as we walk, and I can’t help but notice the way the lights shine down on his back muscles and how they pull against the fabric of his light blue T-shirt. It’s unmistakable the man is an athlete with his broad, thick shoulders and his narrow waist and . . . oh God, he has a nice butt.

A really nice butt.

All bubbly and tight—

“This okay?” he asks as we stop. My eyes quickly retreat from staring at his ass and up to his face. God, did he catch me?

Do not stare at the man’s ass, Winnie. Honestly, what is wrong with you?

“Oh yeah, this is—” I finally look at the bedroom, and oh my God, it’s gorgeous. Just like the rest of the house, which is styled with gray-washed woods, the ceiling is vaulted with wooden beams, accentuating its height, and a gorgeous clear chandelier dangles from above. The black, wrought-iron canopy bed is impeccably made with white and light blue linens, and makes the entire room seem like a dream. And right across from the bed is a fireplace with a comfortable-looking rug placed in front with an accompanying sitting chair.

Uh, yeah, this is looking much better than my car right now.

“This is more than I could ask for. Honestly, I could just sleep on the couch.”

Pacey walks into the room. “You’re not sleeping on the couch when there are plenty of empty rooms for you to stay in.” He sets my backpack in front of the fireplace and then reaches around to the side and flips on a switch. The fire roars to life.

Wow.

Just wow.

“That was fancy.”

He looks up at me, a smirk on his face. “If you found that impressive, wait until you try out the heated towel rack.”

What is this life? Did I stumble into an alternate reality where I get to stay at a five-star resort with a bunch of hunky hockey players? Pretty sure I’m maxing out my luck right about now.

“Bathroom is in there.” Pacey points to a closed door. “Everything is stocked that you might need. I’m pretty sure there are some spare clothes in the closet for men and women. Taters likes to be that kind of host, even though it might not seem like it, and if you need anything, I’m two doors down on the right.”

“Okay. Um, thank you. This was very kind of you.”

He moves toward the door and I quickly step out of his way. He stops at the door and looks over his shoulder. The scruff on his jaw is accentuated by the light of the fire. “If you’re still worried about abduction, then I suggest locking the door and shimmying that chair over there under the handle.” With that, he winks—my bosom heaves—and then he takes off, quietly closing the door behind him.

I inwardly squeal and thank my lucky stars that this night didn’t end up worse than it could’ve been.

Maybe Mom really is helping me on this trip. I take a seat on the bed and lie back on the plush comforter so I’m staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I allow myself to be thankful.

Very, very grateful.

I’ll enjoy this comfortable bed and warm fire tonight, and tomorrow morning, I’ll make a plan. I’ll find a place to stay, and I’ll get my car out of the mud.

I came up here for a reason, and now that I’m here, I need to figure out how to follow through.





Chapter Three





PACEY





“Mornin’,” I say as I walk past Holmes, who’s reading at the kitchen bar.

“Morning,” he says, his head stuck in his book.

It’s five thirty in the morning, and despite wanting to sleep in, it was next to impossible after all the “excitement” last night. Holmes is always an early riser, doesn’t care to sleep in much. But I also think that’s because he wrestles his demons when he’s asleep. I also think it’s why he gets lost in his books, so he doesn’t have to face reality.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to make coffee for us if you’re up this early,” I tease him.

“Why make it if I don’t drink it?”

“You drink it.”

“On occasion.” He closes his book and lays it face down.

I scoop coffee into the filter. “What are you reading?”

“Some fucked-up thriller.” He places his hand behind his head and stretches. “Think you should wear a shirt.”