Lord of Rain (The Dragon Demigods #5) - Charlene Hartnady Page 0,47

the worst thing that could happen. Indifference is. I am cynical now, I’m afraid. I haven’t so much as been on a single date since we split up.”

“You’ll get there,” I say, trying to be nice. “What did you say your name was?” I ask him.

“Jim.”

“I’m Ashley. I’m sure you were very hurt, Jim. Give it time, and you’ll meet the right person. What do you think, Bolt?” I notice he’s gone very quiet.

“I disagree. The right person is almost an impossibility. You need to get over your ex first, in order to move on…if that’s what you decide you want to do. Without being crude,” he pulls in a deep breath, “you need to get someone under you to get over her.”

“You think so?” the driver asks.

“Absolutely! Get back out there. Forget about dating, romance, love, and all that bull. I’ve heard that Tinder is a good platform for hook-ups. What you need is a hook-up.”

The driver makes a noise like he’s actually thinking about it. Like it might be a good idea.

“Just be honest…that’s all,” Bolt adds. “Make sure she knows it’s a one-time or two-time deal. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Jim says. He turns into the road that leads to our hotel. “I know how it feels to be lied to.”

“No offense, but I think a hook-up is bad advice. Get out there, sure, but maybe you meet someone great. What then?” I interrupt.

“My advice is great advice,” Bolt disagrees with me. “You won’t be able to move on until you’ve worked her out of your system.”

It sounds like Bolt’s speaking from experience, but as far as I know, he’s never had a serious relationship, hence being one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. I dare not ask, and we’re pulling up to our hotel anyway.

“Good luck with everything, Jim,” I say once we’re outside. “You will find someone else. Someone amazing. Don’t listen to this cynic.”

I hear Bolt laugh under his breath. I really am pushing it here. I’ve always been taught to speak my truth. It’s why the dynamic at the bakery works and why our family is so close. It seems that as much as I try, I can’t stop now. It’s for the best. I am who I am.

Jim waves and drives away.

“That was a great evening. I really enjoyed myself,” I say, smiling up at Bolt. I realize that it almost sounds like I’m thanking him for a date or something. The chilly evening air is clearly not helping to take the alcohol buzz away. He looks distinctly uncomfortable. We start walking. Bolt has the takeout bag in his hand.

“Thanks for the food,” I say as we reach the hotel entrance. I’m trying to fill the awkward silence that has crept in.

“You bought it, so I should be thanking you.” He nods at the doorman as we walk inside.

“You insisted we stop. Otherwise, it would have been plain old nuts for me.” I bob my brows.

Bolt chuckles. “How is it that you make me laugh so easily, Miss Shaw?” He pushes the elevator button.

“Believe me, that’s not a good thing.” The doors open. “I’m a klutz. I say things I shouldn’t. I’m socially awkward.”

“I haven’t seen any sign of social awkwardness…it’s been the opposite. You seem to get along well with most people. I’ve had Jim as my driver over half a dozen times, and I never knew his name. Same goes for the cabin attendant.”

“You’re the CEO of a huge corporation, and it’s liquid courage where I’m concerned.” I probably shouldn’t admit something like that to my boss, but I’m sure he noticed I’ve been a tad tipsy the whole evening. From when I finished that first glass of champagne.

The doors close. “What floor is your room?” He looks at me expectantly. Now that we’re in this cramped space, I can smell his cologne. I can smell him. His jacket is draped over one arm. I didn’t think a plain white business shirt could look so good. He’s not an asshole at all. He’s nice. I like him.

Bolt’s still looking at me…waiting. I’ve been staring at him for several long seconds. Too long. “Um…I have no idea.” I don’t remember. My mind has hit a blank. “Um…let me check.” I start searching through my purse. “My keycard is in here…somewhere.” I fumble and drop my purse. Of course I do. Anything else would be too normal. Too un-me like. My purse hits the floor, and because