No Interest in Love (22 page)

“Uh…” I mutter, scratching at my ear. “Did you hear me?”

She laughs, shaking her head at the very large wineglass she's filling. “I'm fine with relaxing tonight. I can't imagine performing after going through a week like you just did.”

She lifts the wine bottle at me, and I pass on it.

“No, Carletta…I mean I'm not going to sleep with you…ever.”

She laughs until she catches my drop-dead-serious expression. It gets so pin-droppingly quiet that even Carletta's cat gets sick of it and starts mewling at us both. Carletta picks up her glass and slumps onto an overly cushioned couch. Her brows have pinched together and she gnaws on her bottom lip. I don't know whether I should stay standing, sit down, walk out, or what.

“You're married?” she asks. I slowly take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

“No.”

“Gay?”

“No.”

“Engaged? Taken?”

“No.”

She slams her hand into the large throw pillow. “Then what the hell, Jason?”

I can't tell if she looks more amused or annoyed. The light smile on her face tells me the former, but the tone of her voice has me thinking the latter. I let out a giant sigh and grab the back of my head, shaking it at the floor.

“That woman…the one I've been stuck with all week. The one who drives me crazy. She's…” I stop and run a hand over my face.

“Driving you crazy,” Carletta finishes for me.

“I've lost my damn mind.” I meet her gaze. “But I like it. And I don't want to risk losing a shot at it.”

She takes a drink, rolling her eyes a bit.

“What? Don't believe me?”

“I thought you were a guy who was into this sort of arrangement. I get a good lead out of the deal, and you get a good lay. Win-win.” She puts her glass down and scoots forward on the couch, letting her bare knee touch my leg. “Are you going to let this woman who's not even your girlfriend stand in the way of you getting the job?”

My brow furrows. “You saying if I don't sleep with you, the part goes to someone who will?”

“I'm not saying those exact words.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “That would be very illegal.” She playfully bites her bottom lip and inches closer again. I back the hell up.

“Sorry,” I say, moving toward the door. “You're barking up the wrong tree.”

She jerks back, mouth turned down. Her back straightens as if she's going on the defensive. “This is Hollywood. Once you're in, you're going to want to stay and play for a bit. Monogamy kind of spoils that for you.”

I shake my head, knowing just days ago I probably sounded just like her. It all feels so ridiculous now. And she's right, Shay's not my girlfriend or even anything at this point, but I don't care. I don't want that anymore. Not after I've felt what could be the real deal.

“Actually, this is Birmingham, Alabama,” I say. “And I'm done playing.”

And even though I know I'm about to lose a chance at the big screen, I feel light as a feather as I turn my back on Miss Sure Thing.

I'm craving something a bit more unlikely.

12:00
A.M.

It's a long walk from Carletta's suite to the fast-food place down the road, but at least it's not twenty miles. And the journey there and back to the hotel goes quick with everything reeling through my brain on a loop.

I said no to a sure thing. I said no for the chance at a very
unlikely
thing. For the first time I want to be Ted, not Barney. I don't want to take the Stinson Approach. I want my own approach to this. No script, no set characters…even though the thought of her not reciprocating the feelings niggles in the back of my mind, I don't let it deter me.

I step into the elevator with fast-food bag in hand, pressing the 2 button without pause. I could easily press the top floor and be back with Carletta…but I don't. And it's not because I feel guilty or because I think it'll save the part I've spent all week to get, but because…

I don't want to.

Seems simple, but I don't want to sleep with her. I don't feel like sleeping with anyone but Shay, no matter how long that takes. And I end up chuckling to myself as the elevator doors open on floor 2 because I never thought I'd be thinking this.

Shay's room is the last one down the hallway, and when I get there, I lean in close and tap the door lightly with one knuckle. It's late. I know it's stupid. But I
want
to be
here
.

I hear her shuffle to the door, and it shakes a little when, I assume, she presses her eye to the peephole. The lock
clacks
, then she slowly pulls the door open.

“Thought you would've been sick of me by now,” she says, a light smile on her face. She's hiding something behind her back, and I'm tempted to peer over her shoulder to see what it is, but I'm distracted by the rest of her.

Her hair's wet, pulled back, ends of her ponytail dripping onto the shoulder of the souvenir shirt she's wearing. I can't help but scope her out, eyes drawn to her bare, skinny legs in very loose-fitting souvenir boxer shorts. She shaved. But even if she hadn't, I'd probably still be checking her out.

I hold the fast-food bag up by my face. “You like your meat, right?”

She bites her bottom lip, eyebrows pulling in slightly as she slowly takes the hand hidden behind her back out in front for me to see. She's got a half-eaten drumstick, skin and grease covering her thumb and forefinger. I laugh and hang my head.

“That answers that question.” I push off the doorframe I'm leaning against. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Did you get me a burger?”

“Well, yeah…”

She pulls on my sleeve and tugs me inside, letting the door swing shut behind me. “I still want it.”

I watch her cute little ass as she walks in front of me, past the large assortment tray of room service food.

“You definitely like your meat,” I say, eyeing the chicken wings and cocktail wienies.

“I have a week's worth of meals to catch up on.” She grabs the bag from my hand and flops down against the pillows on her bed. “No salads this time.”

“I'm joining you.”

The paper around the burgers crinkles as she breaks into them. “Just keep your paws off the cookies.”

“I'm not gonna agree to that.” I grin and yank my hoodie over my head, the black T-shirt I have underneath rising a bit with it. The crinkling stops, and I figure she dove mouth-first into that burger, but when I catch her eyes, she's only halfway through opening the wrapping, her gaze on my torso. It's a small achievement, and hell, I don't even know if she's checking out the goods or not, but I'm gonna take it. I make my pecs dance, which pulls her out of her daze.

“Bring over the chicken,” she says, eyes darting down to her burger. I toss my hoodie in the closet, wrap my hand around the cart, and just roll the whole thing next to the bed. Then I flop down next to her, kicking my shoes and socks off.

“You know I'm hungry when even your smelly feet can't deter me,” she says, then takes a heaping bite from her burger.

“You know I'm hungry when
that
doesn't deter me.” I nod to her filled cheeks, and she slowly opens her mouth to show me what's in there. I groan and laugh, and I feel her shaking with laughter too, and it doesn't gross me out or turn me off but hits a satisfying spot I've never experienced before.

And suddenly, my hunger is replaced with nerves.

1:32
A.M.

Shay's burger is gone in less than five minutes. And she's not stopping, because she reaches over me, baggy shirt loose in my face as she grabs the chicken wings and places them in front of her. She moans right after every bite.

“I can leave you two alone if you want,” I tease. She moans in response. Chuckling, I go for one of those wings only to get batted in the back of the hand.

“Mine,” she says. I try again only to get growled at.

“I'll eat all the cookies if you don't share.”

“Bluff.”

She's right, but I take the large sugar cookie and shove half of it in my mouth. She gasps, inhaling a piece of chicken, which I have to smack out of her.

“You okay?” I ask as she waves for a drink. My hand flattens on her back even though she doesn't need me to give her any more pats, and I pass her a sparkling water. “Yeah, time to slow down, carnivore.”

As carefully as I can, I remove the plate of chicken from her reach. Her bottom lip slowly pulls into a frown. It's damn adorable. Of course.

“I still get cookies,” she says.

“Just one.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Four.”

“One.”

“You do not know how to negotiate.”

“Zero.”

She tosses her head back, hitting it on the headboard. “Fine, one. But it's the double chocolate chunk.”

I pick it up from the plate, knowing that if I hold the entire plate out to her she'll steal two or three more. She takes a bite, moans, then leans back with her eyes closed.

“So, food warden, did you stop by just to feed me?”

I lean back with her, letting our arms touch. “Yep.”
Lie
. “And to watch you stuff yourself.”

“I'm still hungry.”

I laugh. “Where the hell is it going?”

Her fingers dance along the bottom of her shirt, then she pulls it up a little. It's enough for me to see a glimpse of that wicked tattoo…and her puffed-out stomach, which looks like one poke and it'll explode a live chicken.

“Uh, I think I'm pregnant,” she says, then prods at her belly button. She has a belly button ring. A small piece of metal that's driving me crazy and putting me into a daze. I have to clear my throat and dart my eyes somewhere less attractive.

“Who's the father? The chicken or the beef?”

“It was either burger number two or chicken wing number five.”

“You already had a burger?”

She smiles wide at me and shrugs, pulling her shirt back down.

“Yeah, you're cut off.” I push the cart away with my foot. “All that food's gonna bark at you in the morning.”

“Worth it.” She sighs and relaxes into the pillow under the small of her back. My hand twitches next to hers, and I want to take her palm, tangle our fingers, kiss her knuckles…

“I'm serious, though,” she says, and I glance up at her eyes behind her bright red frames.

“Huh?”

“Is that the only reason you're here?” She looks down at our almost-touching hands. “Because…I thought for sure you'd be in Carletta's room tonight.”

“Hmm.” It's not really an answer. I've never done this before—tell a woman she's End Game. Or at least, I want her to be. Shay's eyes flick back up to mine and like a coward I look at the ceiling.

“Hey, so, hypothetically—”

“You know, when people say ‘hypothetically' they usually mean ‘literally.' ”

I shake my head. “Okay then…literally…if I told Carletta I wasn't going to sleep with her, do you think I still have a shot at the part?”

She sits up. “You did what now?”

“Shit. You think I botched it, huh?”

“What, no. No, I'm just…” She pulls her ponytail over her shoulder, dragging her nails through the damp black strands. “Isn't she…I mean…Isn't
that
the opportunity you wanted?”

“Can you answer my question first?”

Her shoulders relax and she lets out a tiny laugh. “Um, yes. I think you've got the part. They'd be idiots not to cast you.”

And my heart, which I thought had been ripped to shreds with her words from last night, fuses back together in my chest, making me sit up to get my face closer to hers.

“Can you answer my question now?” she asks, and it's not her typical demanding tone that I find equal parts comical and sexy but a small, whispered request, as if she's unsure if she really wants to hear the answer. I'm not sure if I want to hear her reaction. I suppose that if she rejected me it would be karmically balanced for all the shit I've done. But that doesn't make it any less nerve-racking.

“I don't want that opportunity anymore.”

“Why not?” Her voice has lowered. Her eyes are narrowing. I scoot back a little and shrug, and she points a finger at me. “No. Not this.” She does a dorky impression of my shrug, pulling a chortle out of me. “Tell me what changed from between now and three days ago.”

“Yeah, I think we both know what happened.” I wasn't alone in the ice room.

“Do you feel guilty or obligated or something?” She waves her hand around my face. “There, you are pardoned from all guilt.”

And when she softly laughs, my eyes fall from hers. She has cookie crumbs all over her lips. Chocolate tucked in the corner of her mouth.

“I'm so into you,” I blurt out. Her laughter gets chased away by her confusion.

“Huh?”

I grab her suspended hand and pull it down, shaking my head at our fingers, which I've finally twined together. “I'm pretty sure you heard me,” I say with a lift of my eyebrow.

“Why?”
she says, eyes incredulous. “We fight
all the time.
Even during our ‘nonarguing week' we fought.”

“Because you bite that pinkie nail. Because you wears those insane glasses. Because we
do
fight, but I have fun fighting with you. I'm happy around you, and I wasn't sure what happy felt like before. Because you keep a to-do list in an actual notebook. Because you still carry a pen in a world of smartphones. Because you look good in mud, in my shirt, and you can make my heart race even when you smell like shit. Because you can manage to eat your weight in chicken wings and still turn me on my head.”

I throw my arm out at the room service cart, gesture at the cookie crumbs on her face, which she furiously starts wiping away. I can't help but grab her hand back, shaking my head with a grin on my face.

“Because you're
adorable as hell
.” My thumb runs over that gnawed-up nail, which I can tell she wants to bring to her mouth. So she chews on her lip instead. “Shay…You know practically everything about me. Even the stuff I don't want people to know. And I…I don't mind you knowing. I
like
that you know.”

Her eyes flick up and meet mine. The silence around us eats at me. I thought she'd have some witty comeback, since she's never been one to let me have the last word. And more of the embarrassing speech starts playing in my head, even though I swore to myself I'd never let a woman get deep enough under my skin to make me
want
to give an embarrassing speech. I'm about to blurt out every last sentence of it. Maybe get up and spout off a sonnet. If I could play an instrument I would. Romance isn't my forte, obviously. I gotta watch more Nicholas Sparks.

“It's 2:01,” Shay says. I look at the alarm clock behind me.

“2:02.”

She lets out a half laugh. “Always an argument.”

I point at the clock, because it clearly says 2:02. She shakes her head. I can't tell if she's smiling or if she's holding one back. Her hand sort of twitches in mine like she's unsure if she wants it there, and then it hits.

“You don't believe me.”

“It's…it's after two.”

I let go of her hand and ease off the bed. “Okay. I'll come back in the morning and say it all again, then.”

A tiny laugh shakes through her as she brings her knees up to her chest. “I won't hold my breath.”

I know it's my own damn fault that she's skeptical, but I can feel the frustration burning up the back of my neck. My knuckles sink into the comforter by her hips as I lean in.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I've fallen for you?”

She's a breath away, but neither of us are breathing. Someone's lit a fire between us, sucking out all the oxygen. A piece of jet black hair falls in front of Shay's eyes as she holds my gaze.

“You're…you're not supposed to fall for me,” she whispers, snuffing out the flames between us. “I'm not the love interest.”

“Really?” I tuck the strand behind her ear. “Because I'm sure interested in you.”

“What changed, then?” she asks. “You didn't want any of these feelings. Ever. You've been salivating over another woman all week.”

I break away, knowing her stubbornness (totally justified stubbornness) will not let me get past this argument tonight.

“Not all week,” I mutter. Where did I put my shoes? I bend down and search under the bed, finding only one.

“Come on…” She snorts. “A good portion of it.”

“You know what happened?” I say, swinging my shoe around like a lunatic. “You got soaked by a giant mud puddle. You turned around, and I…I lost it.”

“I know. I heard the laughter.”

“No. I lost my
mind
.” I shake my head, realizing that mud puddle was the moment I tripped over the love hill. My ass has been tumbling ever since. “Everything I thought I wanted didn't make sense anymore, not even when I tried to explain it. All I could think was how damn cute you looked and how I wanted to see more of that. More of…of
this
…” I wave my shoe between our bodies. “I like fighting with you. I like how tough you are. I like being the person who makes you laugh. Maybe I found you so painfully annoying when we first met because you are the
one
for me. And I didn't want that…but now, damn it, you are
all I want
.”