She didn’t know what to say, but her heart was pounding so hard she knew she wouldn’t be able find words. Because she realized in that moment that he made her happy, too. This trip had been crazy, and emotional, and a complete disaster at times, but she’d never had more fun in her whole life. She planted her feet firmly on the rail of her barstool, trying with all her might to keep her world from spinning.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her chin quivering. “I’m sorry I said all those things. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean any of it.”
His finger brushed over her lips, shushing her. He eased himself off the barstool, took a couple of twenties out of his wallet, and tossed them in the direction of the bartender. “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here and get some sleep.”
She swallowed, wishing desperately that the feeling suddenly rolling in her belly was caused from too much alcohol. But it wasn’t. That feeling came from falling for a man—maybe for the first real time in her adult life. A feeling of wanting him so desperately her heart ached with it.
“I wanted to hate you,” she whispered. “But I don’t.”
“I know.”
She stumbled out of her chair, dragging her bag from the top of the bar, as she continued toward the door. “I don’t hate you, Tristan Montgomery, and that scares the hell out of me.” She continued walking, not bothering to look over her shoulder to make sure he was following. She knew he was. She felt him with every hair on her body, every drop of blood that surged to the surface of her skin.
“I don’t hate you either, Samantha Elizabeth Smiles. I never have.”
19
Chapter Nineteen
They walked down the sidewalk back to their room. Their hands occasionally brushing, his body so close she could practically feel the heat radiating off his skin. It was then that she realized how much the four rum and cokes had affected her. She felt tingly and warm. All the way to her toes. All over her belly. But it was more than that which warmed her insides. It was Tristan. The way he walked, the sound of his voice, the way she felt from the simple brush of his fingers.
He guided her back to the B&B, past a donut shop, a movie theater, and a bunch of other shops she didn’t remember. “Are you sure this is the right way?” she asked. “I don’t remember any of this.”
He only nodded, placing his hand on the small of her back to keep her moving forward. To be fair, when she’d left the room after changing, she wasn’t exactly paying attention to the shops. She was fuming. Crying. Ridiculous. And for some reason, she trusted Tristan. She trusted him to take care of her. To keep her safe. To make sure she didn’t fall. Honestly, she always had. For as many faults as Tristan had, he was someone who always looked out for his friends. That’s why he had so many of them. He was someone who always looked out for his family—which now that she thought about it, was the reason he always bugged Renee so much. He was too protective. Too involved in her business. Just like a big brother should be.
Soon enough, down a sidewalk covered with too many pebbles, Tristan opened the door to their room. Once inside, her eyes set on the single king-sized bed set smack dab in the middle of the wall. Nerves tickled the back of her spine, and she walked quickly to their bags in the wardrobe closet. She fetched her PJ’s from the front pocket of her backpack and carried them to the restroom to change. Neither said a word to the other as she moved around the room.
She set her bedclothes on the counter, bracing her arms on either side of the sink as she stared at her reflection. Her cheeks were pink and flushed, her lips red from crying too much, but she didn’t hate what she saw. Her hair was down, a little wild from drying on its own. It framed her round face perfectly. She looked pretty. Sexy even—and she was single for the first time in her adult life. She looked to the door leading back to Tristan and frowned. Because behind that door was a single king-sized bed, and a man who sent shivers down her body and spine.
Not knowing what to do with this information, she quickly changed. It wasn’t something she should even consider. Something she should think about at all. After brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face, she opened the door.
Tristan was sitting on the side of the bed, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, making him look large and confident. He looked into her eyes, down to her white t-shirt, then farther, to the sliver of blue that peeked out from the hem of her shirt. Perhaps it was the alcohol thinning her blood that made her do it, or the way he was looking at her, but she walked toward him, without a word, and stood between his legs.