The Rivals - Vi Keeland Page 0,65
in your girlfriend’s cousin. God, that man truly is a tosser.”
“The quote is from Shakespeare.”
“Figures.” She rolled her eyes. “Dull roses and recycled bullshit. The man never could be original. I bet if Weston sent you flowers, they’d be wildflowers or something as rare and unique as you are. And I’d prefer a card that said, ‘Let’s fuck’ over some pretentious quote any day of the week.”
Weston.
Shit.
I’d momentarily forgotten that the bellman said Mr. Lockwood had accepted the delivery and made sure they were sent right up to my room.
But something told me when I ran into him next, he wouldn’t have forgotten.
Chapter 18
* * *
Weston
“Well, don’t you look like shit.”
Not even Mr. Thorne ’s insults could make me smile this morning.
When I’d left Sophia’s room, I’d felt conflicted. I didn’t want her to think I was a good man, only to feel like she’d had the rug pulled out from under her when she got to know me better and realized I wasn’t. That was exactly what her asshole of an ex had done. But by the time I’d showered and gotten dressed, I’d started to get over myself. The fantastic night we’d shared together pushed my concerns to the side, at least for the time being. I even ordered her damn flowers. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sent a woman flowers. But then I’d gone downstairs and happened to be at the front desk when a delivery arrived for her—and not from the florist I’d visited.
My morning was shot to hell after that.
I dragged a hand through my hair. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
The look on Mr. Thorne ’s face told me what he was thinking. I shook my head. “I wasn’t out partying. I did go to a club, but I didn’t fall off the wagon.”
He wagged a crooked finger at me. “You know better than that. Going to a place where everyone around you is indulging is asking for trouble.”
I couldn’t argue, because he was right—though I spent every day in one hotel or another that had a few bars. Some of our properties even had clubs in them. Unless I was changing my line of work, I wouldn’t be avoiding places that served alcohol. Besides, I hadn’t had the urge to drink last night. My mind had been too busy obsessing over Sophia.
“Yeah, I know. But it wasn’t like that.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t even tempted.”
Mr. Thorne shook his head anyway. “Did you at least bring my ticket?”
I grabbed the scratch-off from my back pocket and handed him the book from his nightstand he always leaned on. “One ten-dollar ticket, like you asked for.”
He put on his reading glasses, grabbed a quarter, and went to work. “So…you stayed at this club all night? And that’s why you look like a raccoon?”
I shook my head. “I spent the night with the woman I’ve been seeing, if you must know.”
“Sophia?”
“Yeah, Sophia.”
He finished scratching off the gray latex and brushed the scraps from the lotto ticket. “You two going steady now?”
“Considering it’s not 1953 anymore, no, we’re not going steady.”
“You just hooking up then?”
His use of the term made me chuckle. But most of his vocabulary came from Jerry Springer, so I wasn’t surprised he knew what it meant. “Yeah, I guess that’s what we’re doing.”
“Don’t you ever want to settle down? Meet a nice woman? Come home to her after a long day of work and share a nice meal she cooked for you? Maybe pop out a couple of rugrats?”
I could not picture Sophia wearing an apron and making me dinner, but I got what he was trying to say. I’d never given much thought to coming home to a woman or starting a family. But the truth was, I could envision that with Sophia. Albeit, my version of things wasn’t exactly Mr. Thorne’s. Instead of her cooking me a nice dinner, we’d have reservations for seven o’clock since we both worked a lot. I’d lose track of time and show up at the restaurant a half hour late, and she’d be pissed. I’d slide into the booth next to her, instead of across from her, and apologize. She’d tell me to stick my apology up my ass. We’d argue, and I’d notice how sexy she looked with fire in her eyes and slip my hand under the table. When the waiter came to take our order, I’d be knuckles deep inside her beautiful pussy, and she’d be angry when he walked