Page 70 of Wrong For Me

Unfortunately, they do expect that. The manager is incredibly apologetic at the apparent mix-up, but he reiterates that there just isn’t a free room available. He offers to comp part of our rate, and throws in a few vouchers for resort restaurants. But the fact remains—unless one of us is willing to go to another hotel, we’re sharing a room. And since the nearest hotel is ten miles away from the conference, I highly doubt either of us is going to budge.

“You’ll just have to switch hotels,” she says, after the manager leaves us with little better than a “sorry, sucks to be you.”

“The closest hotel is ten miles away.”

“So?”

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Rose. The entire point of this conference is to network and meet people.”

“No. The point is to learn from the speakers and panels.”

I smirk. “Great. If you’re not interested in making contacts, then you should be the one to switch.”

“Leo!” she cries, and I wonder just how close she is to a full-on meltdown.

“Rose,” I mimic. I know I’m being an ass, but something about her reaction makes me want to push. “You know, your nickname is really fitting you right now, princess.”

Her eyes flash, gaze dropping to my feet, and I get the distinct impression she’s contemplating stomping on them. I take a step back, sighing.

“Fine. If you’re really adamant that you can’t make this work, I guess the gentlemanly thing to do is switch hotels.”

Something shifts in her face, and she closes her eyes. She must feel bad, because when she opens them again, I can tell that she’s resolved. “I’ll switch hotels. I can arrange for a rental car or something to get back and forth.”

For some reason, that sends a fresh shot of annoyance through me. “Or we could just share the damn room, Rose. We’re adults, right? The manager said it had two queen sized beds. Sounds like there’s more than enough space for both of us.”

Horror takes over her expression. “I can’t share a room with you!”

“Why not? Don’t trust yourself alone with me?”

“I trustmyselfjust fine,” she snaps. “You’re the one I don’t trust.”

Okay, maybe I deserve that. But that knowledge doesn’t soften the sting her words bring, and when I speak again, my voice is sharp. “Tell me, Rose—have I made a single romantic or inappropriate move towards you in the six weeks we’ve been working together?”

She blinks, seemingly at a loss for a moment. “You were an asshole, and you know it!”

“And I apologized. Have I been an asshole since then?”

We both know the answer is no. I’ve been completely professional since I apologized after my behavior in her car. Still, I can tell she’s searching for an argument, something to get out of this disaster-in-the-making. Eventually, her lips press together in a flat line. “Fine. We’ll try it out tonight. If we get along, great. If not, we’ll draw straws or something to see who has to leave.”

I expect to feel relief—I really don’t want to switch hotels—but instead my belly floods with unease. Sharing a room with Rose Ransome has to be the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. But there’s no backing out now, so I hold out a hand to shake. “I can deal with that.” It takes her a long time to finally put her hand in mine, and when she does, I see my own trepidation mirrored in her eyes.

“To getting along.”

“To getting along,” I grumble, knowing deep in my gut that I’m going to regret this.