I Kissed A Ghoul by Kat Baxter

Chapter 7

Ainsley

I stretch along the sheets and open my eyes, momentarily forgetting where I am when the ceiling above me isn’t the one from my apartment. My body feels tender and used in the best possible way which brings a smile to my mouth.

Reid.

Reid and his filthy mouth and wickedly talented hands and tongue and dick. I lost track of how many times I orgasmed last night. It was a lot though.

Like, Olympic-level, world-record setting numbers.

I roll over, ready to congratulate him on his impending addition to the Guinness Book of World Records, but find he’s noticeably absent from the bed and sheets next to me are cold so he’s been gone a while. I swallow against the panic that rises like bile in my throat.

I knew going into last night that it was probably a one-time thing. That we’d be nothing more than fuck buddies. Now, I have my answer.

Lovers wake up together, but friends who fuck don’t snuggle. I know that. I knew that going in.

Still there had been hope. Stupid, stupid hope. My poor sappy heart that loves him so damn much is broken this morning.

I head to the bathroom, hating that my eyes dart around looking for a note, even though I don’t really expect one. Apparently my eye movements are controlled by my heart, not my brain. After taking care of my business—and not finding a note anywhere—I grab my phone and shoot a text off to Fiona.

Me: Are you around and awake?

Fiona: Actually still at the hotel. Long story. What’s up?

Me: I’m in the Presidential suite, come upstairs?

Fiona: Wooza! The big suite, hey?

Me: Can you grab my “in-case-of-emergency” duffle from my office?

Fiona: On my way.

I do a bang up job of maintaining the appearance of a hotel heiress/rising hotel exec most days. I’ve got the business wardrobe and tasteful make up down pat. But I do still love tacos and chips and queso. Which means I’ve had more than my share of lunch food-stain debacles. I was on the job less than two days when I learned to keep a change of clothes and other necessities in my office. Thus the “in-case-of-emergency” duffle.

Until now, every emergency has been food related. I’ve never needed my duffle to circumvent a hook-up walk of shame, but sure am glad I won’t have to walk through the lobby dressed as Morticia. For that matter, I’m not 100% sure I could get the dress back on now that my shape wear is dead.

Nothing says bad-ass-female-boss like an Addams Family themed walk of shame. Fifteen minutes later there’s a knock at the door.

I’ve put on one of the hotel robes—thank goodness I personally made sure they are both comfy and oversized!—so I open the door, yank Fiona into the room and grab the bag. I leave her in the living room of the suite, while I retreat to the bathroom and change. We don’t talk until after I’ve changed into my yoga pants and t-shirt, not even bothering with a bra.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Fiona takes one look at me and winces.

“You okay, sweetie?”

And dammit all to hell, but the tears come then. I practically collapse on the sofa, thankful that this is a suite with a separate bedroom so I don’t have to sit in the scene of last night’s crime while I wallow in my heartache.

She lets me cry for a few minutes, while she bustles over to the suite’s coffee and snack bar. She rummages for a few minutes before returning with a mug of tea and a package of shortbread.

If I was a guest, paying for the room, instead of the heiress/corporate overlord, the suite would have been stocked with a lovely basket of locally sourced fruit and some of the hotel’s signature cinnamon rolls. Right now, I really wish I was a guest because I feel like I really need a cinnamon roll.

“Before you say anything,” she says, pausing to rip the cookies open with her teeth. “I just want you to know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with hooking up for a night of hot sex with a professional football player.”

I sniff, then raise my brows. “That was weirdly specific. Do you have something you want to tell me?”

Her eyes go wide, but she shakes her head. “No,” she squeaks, unconvincingly. Then clears her throat and adds in a flurry of words. “No, not at all. I was just trying to make you feel better. To be helpful. I mean it’s obvious you hooked up with Reid last night. Which, I told you so.”

I narrow my gaze at her. “Uh-uh. Spill it, Fiona. Who did you have hot sex with last night?”

She winces, then sighs. “My brother is going to kill me. Or rather he’s going to kill him. But Mateo. Please don’t say anything. I’m pretty sure Ezra tells all the players when he signs them that I’m off limits. Which is dumb because whatever.” She waves her hands dismissively. “But that is not at all what happened to you last night. Mine was a one and done. Just an itch to scratch. You, you and Reid have feelings.”

It’s my turn to wince. “I am the one with feelings.” A knock comes to the hotel door.

“I’ll get it,” Fiona says. When she steps to the side one of the workers rolls in a room service cart.

“I didn’t order anything,” I say, even though my mouth started watering the second I got a hit of the scent of cinnamon.

“No ma’am. The gentleman placed the order before he left instructing us to deliver at this time.” Then turns to leave.

“This is very sweet,” Fiona says, lifting off the dome to reveal a plate of cinnamon rolls.

There’s also, eggs, bacon, fruit, and enough caffeinated beverages to put the local Starbucks out of business, but it’s the cinnamon roll I lunge for. I need comfort more than I need caffeine right now.

“He loves to feed me,” I say tearing off a bite of the ooey-gooey goodness. “When he lived in Chicago, he’d send me food all the time.”

“He’s taking care of you the best way he can.”

“Or he just knows I like food.” I pat my belly.

“Stop it. I’m not going to say that it wasn’t an asshole thing for him to do to just disappear on you this morning. But I feel certain there’s a reason. Maybe he got called into practice. Or a meeting or something.”

“Right, because kickers always have Saturday morning emergencies.” I shake my head. “No, I knew last night that this was probably just a one-time thing.”

“Ainsley—”

“No. I just need to see last night as an ending rather than a beginning. I got him out of my system. That’s a good thing. I can move on. Be an adult and focus on my career instead of mooning over my brother’s best friend. I mean enough already.”

Fiona sighs. “I will support you in whatever you decide to do. But I think you’re wrong about Reid.” She gets up and goes to the bathroom and comes out a few minutes later. “Hey, what is this?” She’s holding up a small package and I realize it’s the flip book from the night before.

“Oh, we just used the photo booth last night.”

She comes back with the book and sits on the couch, criss-crossing her legs like a child. Then she starts to flip through the book. “Oh, Ainsley, y’all are too cute together.” Her mouth opens in a big ‘o.’ “And super hot. Damn.”

Then her fingers quit flipping and she holds the book open to me. “Look. Here. Do you see his face? The way he’s looking at you?”

I glance at the image and Reid is gazing at me, while I look at the camera. His expression is filled with emotion, affection, I don’t know what you’d call it. He does look fond of me.

“That is the face of a man very much in love.”

I shake my head and look away from the book. “I want to believe you. It’s not that I don’t. Yes, he’s fond of me. I get it. I do believe that. But he’s not in love with me.” I set down the cinnamon roll, because somehow even it isn’t enough to sooth this feeling inside. “I’ve spent half my life reading the tea leaves left behind every interaction I’ve ever had with him. Always looking for a clue of his feeling or a hint that he feels the same way. I can’t do it anymore, Fiona. I’ve got to take care of my heart before he completely rips it in half.”

Fiona opens her mouth to say something, then must think better of it because she merely nods. “Do you want to go see a movie or get pedicures or something?”

“We should definitely do that soon. But I think today I’m just going to catch up on some work.”

“Let me know if you want company.”

“I will. Thanks for coming when I needed you.”

“Always.”