Page 75 of Face Off With Fate

“Attitude problem?” she scoffed, swiveling her head from side to side like she was looking for witnesses. Not sure if it was a witness to my insult or my murder.

I tried keeping the corners of my mouth rooted in a straight line, but they tipped upward with every stomp toward me.

Graciella stepped between my sprawled thighs, and I fisted my hands to keep from yanking her onto my lap.

“The only problem I have is you.” She paused. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve got a shit ton of problems at the moment, but none of them are as annoying as you are, Joshua Monroe.”

“Still not my name.”

Her frustrated growl echoed off the polished walls. “Would you stop smiling like an idiot? I hate that you look happy. No one is allowed to be happy right now. We all need to be miserable, complain, and be self-aware that we sound ridiculous.”

Laughing was definitely not the correct response—it went directly against the first few lines of her rant—but when she stomped her foot with an honest-to-god pout on her lips…I couldn’t keep it in.

It was so loud I barely caught the, “I hate you!” she threw my way, but her eyes got the message across perfectly.

“Trouble.” I barely got the word out, fighting for my life to pull it together so I could speak without cracking up again. My thumbs found the peaks of her collarbone, her skin soft beneath them as I rubbed along that ridge, attempting to get her to relax, or at the very least, not bite my head off. “I think you need food and a soak in that tub. So why don’t you look through that room service menu and tell me what you want?”

I’d used the same tone with Goldie when explaining why I couldn’t put the orange peel she’d just asked me to take off back on.

It was a fifty-fifty chance she would take the suggestion or swing at my balls.

“Are you paying?”

Thank god, my balls are safe…for now.

“Yeah.” I smiled, turning her around and giving a slight push toward where I knew a soaker tub called her name. “I’m paying, so get whatever you want.”

“One of everything,” she called over her shoulder, before slamming the bathroom door shut.

“Wait, are you serious?”

My answer came in the form of rushing water.

TWENTY-FOUR

MONROE

THIS IS PEAK ROMANCING.

“Graciella, food’s here,” I called out over my shoulder, trying to compete with the full-blown concert happening in the bathroom. The knock could be for the room service or a noise complaint.

The scent of sautéed garlic and onions leaked through the door frame, answering the question before I pulled the handle.

“Yeah, I’ve got room service for—” The kid’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit, you’re Josh Monroe.” The excitement morphed into a wince. “Please don’t tell them I said that. We’re supposed to act normal if we run into any NHL people today.”

I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. And a little word of advice, no one else will give a shit either if you geek out a bit.”

“Thanks, man,” he said, full-fledged smile back, making his already baby face look even younger. “I hope they’re all as cool as you. Uh…” He scratched at the back of his head, eyes darting toward the hallway. “Uh, they sent me with like seventeen items, but that can’t be right. Are there other rooms you want me to take these to?”

I kicked down the doorstop and stepped out to see what we were dealing with. Three carts lined the wall, each stacked with silver-domed dishes.

“Nah, they got it right. All of those are for in here.” I motioned him in.

“Oh, are like a bunch of people from the team coming over before the Draft starts?”

“Nope.” I followed him in with the second cart, hating the idea of standing around. “Just me and a woman who ordered one of everything on the menu. Thankfully, y’all aren’t The Cheesecake Factory.”

“Wow, and you let her do that?” he asked, rolling in the final cart.