Beautiful Secret
Page 16

I couldn’t text him, and I definitely didn’t want to call room service again tonight.
I checked my reflection in the mirror opposite the bathroom, and yikes: hair like a pile of hay, mascara smeared, pillow lines from temple to chin. I’d looked better after an all-nighter in college. Unless I wanted to spend time making myself at least minimally presentable, I’d have to settle for a vending machine dinner of chips and diet soda.
With a handful of dollar bills and a stack of change shoved into the pocket of my bathrobe, I opened the door slowly and peered out down the hallway. It was surprisingly shadowed and unfamiliar (hey, jet lag!): the walls were covered in a dark-patterned paper and each door was illuminated with a tiny neon plaque and doorbells.
I spied the sign for an ice machine in the distance and tiptoed out, letting the door fall closed behind me. The carpet was soft and thick against the soles of my feet, a subtle reminder that beneath the cotton of my robe I was completely naked. I tried, but couldn’t hear the blurred shape of voices in a neighboring room, or even the hum of a television. It was too quiet, too still. The hallway stretched ominously dark in front of me. I took a few steps past my room, narrowing my eyes to prepare for the appearance of anything unexpected in the distance.
“Ruby?”
I let out a high-pitched squeal of surprise, flinching, and then squeezed my eyes closed as I recognized the voice, debating whether or not I should turn around. Maybe I could run away. Maybe I could pretend to be someone else and he would realize his mistake and go back down to wherever his room was.
No such luck.
“Ruby?” he asked again, a hint of disbelief in his voice. Because normal people don’t run down the hallway in fancy hotels barefoot and in their bathrobes. And oh look, judging by the breeze sweeping up the inside of my robe, the air conditioner just kicked on, too.
Nice touch, universe.
“Hi!” I said—too brightly, far too loud—and turned on my heel to face him.
Startled, Niall Stella took a step back, nearly stumbling into the open doorway, which, coincidentally, was right next to mine.
Sharing a wall . . . maybe even a bathroom wall . . . where he showered . . . naked.
Focus, Ruby!
I went for casual. “What are you up to? I was just grabbing something to eat myself . . .” I said, lazily swinging the tie of my robe around before realizing what I was doing. I dropped it like I’d been burned.
“Something to eat?” he repeated.
I placed a hand against the wall and leaned there. “Yep.”
Niall Stella looked around the hallway and then back to me, eyes lingering on my robe. And maybe, just maybe, if my eyes were correct, my chest. Where my robe was now gaping, possibly exposing some boob.
We seemed to reach this conclusion at the same time.
His eyes snapped to my forehead and I clutched the material in my hands. At this rate, Niall Stella would see me fully naked by the end of the week.
“From the vending machine,” I explained, and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, groaning when I remembered how I looked. “I was just going to grab some chips. I mean the American kind of chip.”
He made a show of looking around. “Not sure a place like this will have Fritos,” he said, a pop of color staining his cheeks and a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Energy bars, perhaps? Caviar, definitely. Good thing you’re dressed for it.”
He was teasing me.
My brother was my best friend, his friends were my friends, and this is what I was good at. Banter. The give-and-take of joking with the guys. I could do this and not be an idiot. And not think about how I wanted to bang him. Maybe. Except he was wearing the charcoal suit—my favorite—and a dark shirt with no tie. I’d never seen him without a tie and it required superhuman strength to keep my eyes on his face, and not on that tiny stretch of skin exposed at the top of his open collar.
He had chest hair and my fingertips tingled with the urge to touch it. Alas, he was still waiting for me to respond.
“You’re lucky I even put this on,” I told him. “I usually eat Fritos pantsless on the couch.”
His eyebrow did a cute little amused twitch while the rest of his face remained impressively stoic. “In fact, I understand those are the instructions on the package. Sadly, the same is not usually true of caviar.”
“Or energy bars,” I added, and he laughed.
“Too right.”
Shrugging, I looked back at the door to my room. “I guess I’ll have another peek at the room service menu.”
“I’m going to lay you down,” he said, “and make you come.”