Hooking - Kristine Allen Page 0,10

her.

“Mmm,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Uh, where are you?” I asked, staring at the door I’d heard the ringing behind.

She gave a giggle, and I heard a man murmur something in the background. Oh, God. “The Four Seasons. Can you believe it?” she answered with a yawn.

Fuck.

“Um. I think I’m outside your door.”

“What?” she asked, suddenly sounding wide awake. “How?”

“Long story. Are you ready to go, or should I get an Uber back to your place?” I didn’t want to be a party pooper, but I needed to get back, get cleaned up, and get to my parents’ for brunch.

“Shit, hang on.” There was rustling, a muffled masculine chuckle, and then shuffling before the door unlocked and her blonde head peeked out the door. She had a white sheet wrapped around her toga-style and the same just-been-fucked hair I’d had earlier.

“Sorry to wake you up. I didn’t know you were here too,” I whispered. “How the hell do a bunch of bikers afford rooms at the Four Seasons?” I continued to whisper as I glanced over her shoulder to make sure the guy wasn’t behind her.

She shrugged. “No clue. Don’t care,” she answered with a cocky grin. “You have fun last night?”

Again, my face heated, and I cursed my propensity for blushing profusely. “Girl, you have no idea.”

“Good. You deserve it, Syd,” she said with a sympathetic smile. She knew my parents well, since her parents were their neighbors and best friends. She knew the high standards my dad had for me and the hopes he’d had that I’d pull my head out of my ass and get a “real degree,” as he’d put it. Mom didn’t care, because she expected me to find a good marriage and run several charities like she did.

“Well, I’m going to catch a car and head back to your place.”

“Oh! Hold on.” She shuffled off, dragging the sheet behind her before returning to the door. “Here.” She handed me her apartment key. “Will you be there when I head home?”

“Probably not. I have brunch with the ’rents.”

“No problem, babe. Just leave the key in the planter on the back porch.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” She winked and closed the door.

With one last glance at the door I’d exited, I rushed to the elevator. Pushing the button multiple times, I waited impatiently for it to arrive at my floor. While I waited, I ordered an Uber to pick me up. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally stepped on and the doors slid closed without a peep coming from down the hall. Not that I was afraid of him, but it was a little embarrassing to be sneaking out in the wee hours of the morning.

There was also the little problem of desperately wanting to go back for another round, though it would be a mistake. Not to mention my parents’ response at me bringing home a biker. I could hear it already.

“Sydney. You could do so much better than that. A biker, really? What were you thinking?”

I’d rather not. Besides, he was staying in a hotel, which meant he was likely only visiting. No sense in getting attached, because I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a long-distance relationship.

The bright light of day cast an embarrassing glow over me as I did the walk of shame through the goddamn Four Seasons. Every step, I prayed no one would recognize me. My mother had her annual charity auction there every year, and they knew me from helping her.

I’d never hear the end of it.

Thankfully, the car was pulling up as I rushed through the front doors, head bowed. Climbing in, I gave the driver Natalie’s address and hid my face with my hand as we pulled away.

The driver chatted happily away the entire way, and I answered with minimal words. When she pulled up in front of Natalie’s swanky apartment building paid for by her parents, I thanked her.

“Honey, there’s no shame in enjoying yourself. If men can do it, so can us women.” She gave me a wink, rolled up her window, and drove off. My shoulders slumped. She was right. There was no shame. Though the fact that she recognized me for what I was in the light of day was a little disconcerting.

As I unlocked the door and stepped in, I leaned against the cool metal. It wasn’t shame I was feeling. It was sad resignation.

Because I knew no one would measure up to him, and that