Hooked #3 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 3) by Adams Claire

Author:Adams, Claire [Adams, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-02-04T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, I woke up alone in the grand hotel room. The Iowa October light was filtering in from the outdoors and I rose, pulling the curtains to the side to see the lines and lines of dead corn from the previous harvest resonate throughout the land. It looked so much like Indiana it nearly made my skin crawl.

I walked around the hotel room, peering at everything. I found the mat on which Drew had slept the evening before. The mat’s bedding was completely made, as if he had left a long time ago.

My stomach grumbled, and I searched for the hotel phone to order up some breakfast. I dialed the number and someone immediately answered. “Monsieur Thompson?” the person answered.

“No—no. I’m his—friend.”

“Ah, Madame,” the man said knowingly.

“Right. Anyway, I was hoping to order up some breakfast.” I thought about Drew, what he would want when he got back. “How about some eggs. Some pastries. Some mimosas.” I paused. “Perhaps some fruit?”

“Yes, Madame. Right away.” He hung up the phone and I felt the whirr of excitement, of activity erupt beneath me. The kitchen was making its grand many-course breakfast feast.

I paced around the room, waiting. I had no idea where Drew was. I wondered if he was upset that I hadn’t slept with him the evening before, if I had ruined everything. I wondered if he was going to simply take me home and never speak to me again. I wondered if this breakfast would be my last bit of finery for the rest of my life. My heart beat loudly in my chest. I felt like a strange alien. I felt so very alone.

About twenty minutes later, the hotel elevator opened, revealing a whole host of hotel workers, all holding grand trays filled with breakfast items. They displayed them on the counter and the large dining room table. They poured two mimosas for us both, and then bowed to me as they exited. When the elevator door closed, it was as if they had never been in the hotel room, as if the food had simply appeared.

I removed the lids from the food, finding the cheese-y eggs, fried potatoes, fruit, and beautiful French pastries. My stomach growled and I reached toward one—one that was oozing with crème and frosting.

Suddenly, the elevator door burst open once more. My hand on the pastry, I looked up in alarm to see Drew marching toward me. Sweat was glistening on his body and his face. He was holding a water bottle, and he was wearing exercise clothes. “Morning,” he said cheerfully. “So glad you ordered breakfast. I was just working out and I’m famished.”

My eyes were wide. I took my hand from the pastry and tried to smile naturally. “Oh. Gosh. Hello,” I murmured. “So good to see you.” I felt awkward, formal.

But Drew sat down and began filling a plate with the food. I sat on the other side of the table, my mimosa in hand. “What did you do?”

“Oh, you know.

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