Finding Focus (24 page)

“Housekeeping.”

I sigh a breath of relief and get up. Micah laughs. “Who’d you think it was gonna be?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m paranoid from all the lying I did when I checked in.”

I swing the door open to a lady holding what looks like my clothes, minus the vomit.

“Here’s your clean laundry, Mrs. Harrison.”

“Thank you,” I say, faking a smile.

“It’ll be charged to your room.”

I smile again and nod, quickly shutting the door. “God, I would make a horrible criminal,” I say, leaning against the closed door.

Micah’s laughing even harder now. “You
are
a horrible liar, but it serves the bastard right.”

“I think I’m gonna shower again and change, so you can have your clothes back.”

“Don’t change on my account. I think they look good on you.”

His comment surprises me, and I’m sure the expression on my face tells it all. If it doesn’t, then the blush creeping up my cheeks will.

“Uh, I’m gonna . . .” I stumble around my words and turn toward the bathroom.

I need a shower. A very cold shower. Because if Micah Landry makes any more comments like that, I will not be held accountable for my actions. And I’m not sure that’s such a good idea seeing as I just caught my boyfriend of four years cheating on me less than two days ago. I think there’s some unwritten rule about how long you have to wait before jumping into bed with someone else, or maybe it’s an unspoken rule that you
do
jump into bed with someone else.

But I know me, and I know Micah Landry. After one night with him, I’m not sure I’d want to give him up—and he’s not into long-term relationships. He does casual sex. He fucks girls up against motel walls.

I might want to be . . .

Stop it, Dani!

“So, what do you wanna do tonight?” Micah asks, flipping through the magazine he found on the desk.

I groan, covering my face with a pillow. “I’m a horrible host! Is this your first time in New York City?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re stuck in this hotel room with me?”

“It’s kinda why I flew all the way up here.”

“I’m the worst friend ever.”

He chuckles. “Stop it, Dani. I didn’t come to see the sights. I’ll save that for another trip." He tosses the magazine onto the ottoman in front of him and uncrosses his long legs, standing up. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Unless you wanna get out? I’ll show you around a little.” I sit up, trying to sound less like a Debbie Downer.

“Is that what you wanna do?”

“Sure, if you want to.”

“You’re
such
a horrible liar.”

“I know. I suck.”

“So,” he says, bouncing as he plops down on the bed beside me. “What movie are we watchin’? We should rent some porn. That shit’s always expensive.”

“What?” I screech.

“Porn.”

“I heard you, but we’re
not
renting porn.”

Because there is no way in hell I can watch other people having sex and keep my clothes on, and it’s already been predetermined that I will be keeping my clothes on.

“Aw, you’re no fun. We need to charge as much as we can to this room before we leave.”

“Well, we can rent two movies. And order room service. But no wine. I can’t even look at alcohol right now.”

“Okay, two movies it is. And steak for dinner. And dessert, since we can’t have booze.”

“Deal.”

After our movies and room service, we’re full as ticks, as Micah would say, lying on the bed with all the lights out. The curtains of the hotel room are pulled back and the city lights twinkle through the window.

“Man, New York really is a city that never sleeps, huh?”

“Yeah, nothing like French Settlement.”

“Definitely not,” he says, shaking his head. “I bet you miss it when you’re gone. It was probably weird being in such a small town.”

“Actually, I didn’t. After I got used to it and found out where I could get good coffee, I didn’t miss anything about this place. Well, maybe my favorite Chinese restaurant, but that’s about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t always lived in New York. There was a time in my life when all I knew was small towns.”

“I kinda forgot that.”

“Being in French Settlement awakened something inside me. I don’t know whether it was the change of pace or being closer to where I grew up, but it made me love my job again, and for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.”

Micah grabs my hand and holds it, not like a boyfriend and girlfriend hold hands, just like someone who’s telling someone else everything’s going to be okay.

“Hey, Micah?” I whisper into the dark room. “Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Will you go with me to my apartment in the morning?”

“It is morning.”

“Later, then?”

“Of course I will.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep.”

An annoying beeping wakes me from a deep sleep. I swat toward the noise, trying to get it to shut up. When my arm hits something that’s not the alarm, I sit up quickly, staring down at the beautiful man in my bed.

Micah.

I almost thought I had dreamed him up, but here he is in all his glory.

He rolls over and hits the alarm clock and then looks back at me with a sleepy, half grin. “Good mornin’.”

Those two words make my stomach tighten.

“Good morning,” I reply, burying my face in the pillow and hoping like hell I don’t have bad breath.

“We should probably get going. Busy day ahead,” he says, his voice still gravely.

I can’t quit looking at him. I know he’s not trying to be sexy, but he is. Maybe the fact that he’s not trying makes him even more so.

“I’m going to hit the shower, unless you need in there,” he says, walking toward the bathroom, giving me a great view of his ass.

“That’s fine,” I tell him, needing a few more minutes to wake up and get my head on straight. Besides, I took a shower last night. I just need to wash my face and brush my teeth. While Micah’s in the shower, I find my brush in my bag and try to make my hair look halfway decent. Once he’s out, I do my business and then we’re ready to go, with half an hour to spare.

“Wanna get some coffee on the way?”

“Sure.” He holds the door open for me and we make our way to the elevator.

“Excited to see what New York looks like from outside the hotel?” I ask, poking him with my elbow.

“I saw it from the taxi on my way here.”

“Oh, well, this will be much more fun. Nothing like the smell of city streets in the morning.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I think I’ll take my plantation.”

Yeah. Good choice.

We grab a cup of coffee from a café down the street and hail a cab instead of walking to my apartment. When we pull up in front of my building, I take a deep breath before stepping out on the curb.

“You good?” Micah asks, placing his hand at the small of my back. The gesture makes my knees feel weak.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice shaking a little, but it’s not due to nerves.

There’s no one waiting on the elevator, so we hop in, and I press two.

“Think he’s still here?” Micah asks.

The elevator door opens and we step out.

“He better not be, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Besides, he had a lot of shit to get out. And even though he’s walking, he’s not fast.”

I pull out my key and unlock the door. The second the door is open, I smell coffee, which gives me my answer.

That son of a bitch.

“Graham?”

“Dani?” he asks, his voice coming from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

I walk in and he’s balancing on one leg, a set of crutches leaning up against the counter beside him. When he sees me, relief washes over him. He leans forward and holds his hand out, wanting me to take it. “Dani. I’m so sorry. I knew you’d come back.”

“Of course I was coming back. This is my fucking apartment!” I try to hold back my anger, but I hate that he’s still playing house . . . in
my
house. “What part of ‘get the fuck out’ did you not understand?”

“You were mad. I didn’t think you really meant it.” Picking up his crutches, he begins to hobble toward me, but stops as Micah steps around the corner and places his hand at the small of my back again.

Graham’s eyes grow wide as recognition sets in. “What the hell is he doing here?” he growls.

“None of your fucking business,” Micah replies coolly.

“Dani, we need to talk,” Graham pleads.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I said everything I had to say two days ago.”

“
I
need to talk!” Graham says, raising his voice and taking a couple steps closer.

Micah places his body at an angle in front of me. “She said she’s finished talkin’.”

“Well, I’m not,” Graham says, standing as tall as his injured leg will allow.

“Well, you lost the privilege to call the shots around here when you fucked your therapist,” Micah retorts.

“It’s not like that!” Graham says, leaning on one of his crutches and pulling at his longer-than-usual hair in frustration. “Which is why I need to talk to
my
girlfriend,” he says, reaching around to grab my arm.

“Don’t touch me, Graham,” I say through gritted teeth. “I want you out. Like, yesterday. Who do I need to call to make that happen?” I reach in my bag for my phone and begin to scroll through it, looking for Mr. Harrison’s phone number when it rings. Piper’s name pops up on the screen, but I decline the call and look back up at Graham.

“Who are you going to call?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“Your father. The law. I don’t really fucking care if they’ll get you out of my apartment.”

“You need to calm down,” he says, reaching a hand out to me. It makes me retreat back, and he sighs in frustration, leaning on the wall for support. “Please give me a chance to explain and tell you how fucking sorry I am.”

“Go ahead,” I tell him, just wanting him to say what he need to say so I can leave. “What do you want to tell me?”

“Not with him here,” he says, pointing to Micah, who is still standing next to me, seething. His jaw is clenched tight and his arms are crossed over his chest like he’s holding himself back.