My Holiday Hookup Road Trip by Sara Whitney

Author:Sara Whitney [Whitney, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LoveSpark Press

At least there’s two beds this time.

“Which do you want?” I ask.

Sebastian responds by rolling his suitcase to the one closest to the door. “In case someone tries to break in,” he explains, and I can’t help but laugh.

“What, you’ll wake up from a dead sleep to confront the intruder and keep me safe?”

I wrinkle my nose at him, and he frowns back. “Yeah, exactly. I’m sleeping between you and the door.”

I set my own suitcase on the bed closest to the window. Miss Gouda stayed in the car this time. “You do know how threatening that sounds, right? Like to me?” I unzip my bag and flip it open, rooting around for my travel kit, where I’m hoping I packed some painkillers. After screaming like the final girl in a horror movie, I feel a headache coming on.

When there’s silence from the other side of the room, I glance over my shoulder to see Sebastian standing rigid at the foot of the bed, fingers of both hands spread wide.

“Birdy, I—”

“Oh my God, I was kidding.” I find the bottle and pour two aspirin into my palm. “You’re my travel buddy. I trust you.”

If anything, his jaw clamps even tighter. “Your travel buddy.”

I pat his chest on the way to the bathroom to get some water. “Yes. My travel buddy.”

It’s a reminder to myself as much as it is to him, and when I emerge from the bathroom, he hasn’t really moved. God, he must be pissed about yet another delay. At least I know how to give him some space.

“I’m going to shut my eyes for a bit. Try to shake this headache.” I flip the covers of my bed back, grateful I pulled on leggings this morning. If I was in jeans, I’d be wondering how weird it would be to take them off before climbing between the sheets.

This shakes him out of his trance. “Headache?” He takes a step toward me. “Can I do anything?”

I shake my head, then wince. “No, thanks. But maybe we could find some dinner once I’ve napped?”

“Yeah, of course.” He picks up his phone and turns toward the door. “I need to call the windshield place to confirm our location for tomorrow and then let my family know it’ll be another day.”

“Wait, you don’t have to—”

But he’s already out the door before I can tell him that I don’t hate the thought of falling asleep to the rumble of his voice. I drop a pillow over my head and ponder whether I’m on a road trip with the last genuinely thoughtful guy in America. How many other men would’ve yakkity-yakked away from the bed next to mine while I tried to sleep? Probably all of them.

When I wake up, the light in the room is low, and Sebastian’s propped against his headboard, one ankle crossed over the other, an iPad in his hands.

“Feel better?” he asks once I’m upright.

“Blarg,” is all I can manage as I bat my tangled hair out of my eyes.

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