One Bossy Offer (148)

He moves to the table beside me and flicks the light switch on. “You must be mighty important to get this suite. Who are you?” Before I can answer, he yanks the phone on the table off its cradle. “I’ll have them send something up to take care of that foot.”

I shrug. “Not as important as you think. I’m just a social media influencer. My friend helped me get a room here. They gave me the best for my review. I thought it was pretty cool until...until this.”

His stiffens then, gazing down at me like I’m holding a loaded gun.

“You hungry? Do you want something to eat or drink? Room service? I’m sorry as hell about the mix-up and it’s only fair we try to make this right.”

Huh? Why is he not scowling anymore? I’m pretty sure that scary-hot look is like his only expression.

“Nope. I just want to get back to sleep.”

He pushes a button on the phone anyway.

And I burst into a laughing fit as it slowly dawns on me.

“What?” His eyes flick to me and linger. “What’s so damn funny?”

“Now, I get it. I see why you’re bending over backwards offering me room service. Dude, you’re so obvious.”

“What do you mean?” It’s not quite a bark this time, but that too-stern tone is back.

I choke off a laugh just long enough to regain some composure.

“You’re worried about the review. You think I’m going to take you to the woodshed and trash this place. And that would suck when Winthrope Lanai is already down to a four-star average on every site that matters.”

His eyes narrow.

Will you, witch? He doesn’t actually ask, but his eyes are beaming that question.

“Don’t worry. I’m nothing but honest,” I say, holding a hand up like I’m being sworn in.

“Honest? Shit,” he mutters. “Just sit tight and we’ll figure this out.”

I raise a brow as he waits impatiently, trying to keep my eyes on his face.

Ugh.

Maybe someday I’ll appreciate the irony of my would-be axe murderer suddenly being afraid of me.

I don’t have my review written yet, but I meant every word.

Some would say I’m brutally honest.

And yeah, you can bet every penny that being scared out of my skin by a walking sex statue is going in my feedback no matter what he does.

This place is so beautiful. When I arrived, I couldn’t fathom why it had such mediocre reviews.

Now, I’m starting to understand.

Staffing issues.

His people can’t handle basic procedures like booking.

Not a good sign.

No glorious ocean views and drinks so smooth you can’t taste the liquor make up for a heart attack in the middle of the night.

“You’re sure about the food? We have these coconut-macadamia nut muffins on our breakfast menu everybody raves about. If I call the kitchen, I bet I can score you a couple out of the first batch this morning.”

Muffins? He’s trying to buy me off with sweets?

“No thanks.” I try to keep my voice neutral.

As he drums his thick fingers impatiently against the desk, waiting too long for someone to pick up, I snicker.

“You’re still laughing?” he whispers, his eyes dark and glassy. “Never mind. I’m glad you find this so funny.”

Oh, Mr. Grumpmuffin, you have no idea.



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About Nicole Snow





Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.

Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty.

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