20 Questions

Chapter 10

I collapse onto the bed, hurt and utterly confused. I can't leave the lodge. I've already paid for the week and it's non-refundable. I don't want to leave anyway; this is my vacation. Maybe I'll just stay in my room for the rest of the week. Out of all places, all the damn places in Aspen, how could he be staying in the same lodge I am? I never thought I would see him again, but if I did, I never expected a reaction quite that devastating. He was friendly on the plane and we had a moment...a real moment. Or at least I thought we did. It doesn't make sense why he would look so appalled at the sight of me. Maybe it was just my imagination and he was only trying to take in the view out of the plane window. I go through all the scenarios in my head and narrow it down to a few different options.

One: I must be look like somebody he hates.

Two: He has a secret life and I will blow his cover.

Three: My least favorite. He thinks I am stalking him.

All the thoughts flood my mind until I nearly fall off the bed when I hear a subtle knock on the door. Assuming it's housekeeping, I ignore it and lay back down on the soft, plush comforter and stare at the ceiling. Twenty seconds later, there's another knock.

"I don't need any towels, thank you," I yell to the unwanted visitor.

Another knock.

I didn't see overly persistent housekeeping on the list of amenities.

"I said I don't need anything. Move along please!" I yell out, this time with blatant irritation.

Another knock and now I'm salty. I jump off the bed like my ass is on fire and march to the door as if I'm going into battle. I fling it open, prepared to give somebody an earful because I am just not in the mood for this shit.

"I SAID I don't need- "

My words and my hostility are cut short when I find it's not housekeeping at all. Standing before me is the gorgeous man with a backwards ball cap who recently ripped my heart out of my chest like a Mortal Kombat move. Flawless victory. My initial reaction is to slam the door in his face, but the hopeful - and should I say lustful - part of me can't look away.

Why is he standing in front of me?

Did he come to reject me again?

Demon in an angel's disguise.

I fumble with my emotions and then my words as I try to understand the complexity of this situation. And complex it is as I drink in every twitch of his lip, the tension in his jaw and the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows deeply. He removes his hat, running his hand through his dark hair, over his face and putting his hat back on. My mind scrambles, trying to formulate words as if English isn't my first language.

"What are you doing here?" I demand with my hands on my hips, the pain of rejection still freshly wounding me. His breathing is fast and his lips are pressed in a straight line. He looks distressed and that delivers some vicious satisfaction inside of me. He doesn't say anything. He just stands before me, taking in my cautious, but predatory stance. As irritated as I am, I still can't deny the way his presence is fueling my sexual fire. "I'm not following you. I promise. I've had this trip planned since- "

He cuts me off. "I'm sorry. I came here to say I was sorry." I was primed for a fight so an apology derails my original plan of crucifixion. I wanted to talk to this man, but I didn't think our first conversation was going to include me barking at him like a rabid Rottweiler.

"You're forgiven. As you were," I curtly reply, closing the door until a large hand blocks my dismissal.

"I didn't mean to react like that. I was taken aback when I saw you. I know you didn't follow me here. I was just surprised to see you. I thought I would never see you again."