I Pucking Love You (The Copper Valley Thrusters #5) - Pippa Grant Page 0,41
to answer.
Everything inside this room feels stupidly intense right now, and I don’t know why, and I don’t like it.
A distraction? Yes, please.
Maybe Veda came back.
Maybe she wants me to stay at her house.
Maybe— “Holy shit. That’s a lot of cookies.”
“Compliments of a random stranger,” the front desk clerk says as he hands me a platter almost too wide to fit through the doorway.
Tyler makes a noise.
Poor guy.
All that temptation.
I shove the cookie tray back at the clerk. “Can you leave them in the lobby for everyone here to share?”
“We have sixteen more trays in the lobby, ma’am.”
“Oh. Um, maybe the next hotel over would like some?”
Tyler reaches around me and grabs the tray, lifting it over my head since he can’t squeeze it past me without dumping it over. “Take the cookies, Muffy. Every hotel on this block probably got hit.” He makes another noise, then mutters, “And the funeral home too.”
“Dead people can’t eat cookies.”
His eyes lock with mine, and the next thing I know, he’s doubled over, laughing into the cookie tray.
I shrug at the clerk, thank him, and shut the door.
Tyler slides down the wall, sets the cookie tray on the floor, sticks his head between his knees, and laughs.
And laughs.
And laughs.
“Jesus,” he finally wheezes.
I slide down the opposite wall and watch him.
I’d eat a cookie, except I had both peanut butter pie and a chocolate mousse for dessert and I’m stuffed.
Actually, I put the chocolate mousse on top of the peanut butter pie, and I’ll basically never eat another dessert in my life that will ever top tonight’s dessert.
“Have you…have you totally lost your marbles?” I whisper to him.
“Yes.”
His laughter is petering out into little chuckles that are somehow both sexy and adorable, and I have to spend the next ten hours alone, in this dinky one-bed hotel room, with this man.
“Why are you here with me?”
“Because my dick broke after I had sex with you, and I’m trying to fix it by figuring out where I went wrong.”
Now it’s my turn for the weird noises.
He quits laughing.
Makes eye contact with me.
Then leaps up from the ground. “Kidding. You should see your face. Everything’s fine, Muffy. I’m here because I’m a nice guy, and there are cookies on the floor because my sister-in-law is a pain in the ass, and we both need to sleep if we’re going to help Veda get through tomorrow and everyone whispering about how she skipped out on her father’s viewing.”
“I broke your penis?”
“No.”
“Tyler.”
“What happened the last time you were here?”
I should tell him. I really should.
But part of me wants to seduce him. See if the hard-on of wonder will make a reappearance, or if his penis really is broken.
Except I’ve eaten more than a hippo today, I still smell vaguely like fish and chips because I’ve absorbed it into my body and I can’t get rid of it between shifts, and Tyler failing to get an erection if I stripped in front of him would be more about me and less about him.
Also, my stomach is so full, there’s a reasonable possibility any physical exertion would make me burp—or worse—and that would basically be the absolute utter end of me.
I make myself stand up too. “Do you want the window or the bathroom side of the bed?”
“Bathroom.”
“Oh. Do you get up a lot in the middle of the night?”
“It’s closer to the door so I can leap up and battle off the invaders who’ll sneak in at two AM to try to kidnap you.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Good.”
Good? I huff out an irritated snort, but mostly, I’m irritated with myself.
He’s a nice guy. Occasional attitude problems. Thought I was sexy enough to want to have sex with me in a walk-in refrigerator in the dark a couple months ago.
And now he knows I’m a total, complete basket case, right when I’m realizing there’s more to Tyler Jaeger than I gave him credit for.
And this is why I never date.
By the time I realize I can board the ship, it’s already halfway across the ocean, going from a dirty shipping port to some tropical paradise.
16
Tyler
Muffy doesn’t touch the cookies.
I don’t know if it’s self-consciousness or if she’s full, but she sets them on the corner table, leaving them wrapped in their plastic wrap, then digs around in her suitcase and disappears into the bathroom.
And because Daisy is Daisy, the platter is wider than the table it’s sitting on.