Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I’m not tempted.” Renzo was so clearly lying, but Canaan let him have his delusions and got out of the truck. Renzo might be fighting it, and Canaan wasn’t going to jump him, but they were going to kiss. Sooner rather than later. And thinking about that did an excellent job of distracting him from his rising nerves about seeing the band again. Maybe he could just fast forward to the part where he and Renzo were alone in a hotel room.
* * *
Renzo was relieved when they left Phoenix traffic behind them. They’d stopped again for another snack—his pick this time, so he’d made Canaan suffer the indignity of a different chain’s protein smoothies. No more discussion of kissing, but it loomed between them, an unspoken tension that made even their small talk over bands and movies more...something. Renzo wasn’t sure what the word was for that potent feeling where each word seemed significant, where paying attention to Canaan was both the best and worst thing ever. Best because he was really fun to spend time with. Worst because the more they talked, the more he wanted Canaan, and he was trying to resist. Trying.
“We’ve made excellent time.” Canaan stretched. “I bet we can drop our stuff off in our room, have enough time for a shower before we’re supposed to meet the guys in the hotel bar.”
Our room. There was that pesky temptation again. And Canaan had said shower, singular. Did he expect—
“Separate showers.” Canaan did the whole mind reader thing again. “Not sure how many times I’ve got to tell you that I’m not going to push.”
“Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.” He sighed, letting the exhale take some of his unease away. “It’s not that I don’t want...”
“Oh, I got you. You want. You just don’t want to want.” Canaan laughed. He wasn’t wrong.
“Something like that.” Renzo focused on the GPS navigating them to a downtown Flagstaff hotel, a modern five-or six-story structure done in earth tones. Judging by the signage, a bar occupied part of the first floor and plenty of other restaurants littered the busy street around the hotel.
“You’ll like this. They want us up at six tomorrow.” Reviewing something on his phone, Canaan shook his head. “I like that the tour company is handling everything, but damn, I am not looking forward to that departure time for the vans.”
“Poor baby.” Renzo very nearly volunteered to be his pillow for the ride to the camping spot, but somehow the words died in his throat. Instead he said gruffly, “I’ll make you some coffee in the morning. Six is nothing.”
He really wasn’t sure how he felt about Canaan’s band friends covering the hotel cost, but check-in went easily, and they got key cards for a room on the fourth floor. Canaan headed toward the elevator, but Renzo got that itchy feeling at the back of his neck he always got around elevators.
“I need to stretch my legs. I’m going to do the stairs.”
“Fitness freak.” Canaan shouldered his backpack and followed him to the stairwell. “I’ll do them with you. Not an elevator fan?”
“Confined spaces and I aren’t friends,” he admitted. “I have to do it, of course, out in the field, but I don’t like it. I like relying on my own power.”
“If I keep hanging out with you, I’m going to be in shape fast.” Huffing, Canaan kept pace with Renzo on the stairs, but was clearly hurting.
“Wanna know a trick? Stairs hurt less if you move faster.”
“Faster? You sure you’re not some kinky slave driver?”
“Race you to the room. Winner gets first shower.”
“You and your races.”
Renzo easily plucked Canaan’s backpack off his shoulder. “Here. I’ll make it fairer. I’ve got both bags. You’ve just got you. And...go.”
He started bounding up the stairs, but moderated his pace so that he wouldn’t smoke Canaan too bad. Might even let him tie, like he had back on the suspension bridge. Wait. Tie would mean sharing a shower. He very nearly stumbled on the next step. Crap. Better win.
He recovered enough to make it to the fourth floor first, but he’d forgotten that Canaan was a decent sprinter and had to actually work to make it to room 412 first. Laughing and breathing hard, he used the key card to unlock, then held the door for Canaan, who wasn’t that far behind.
“You’re a bastard,” Canaan panted as he pushed by Renzo into the room and flopped on the bed. The bed. As in only one. And not a particularly huge one either. He set the bags down by the closet and tried to work on not freaking out.
“Calm yourself,” his little mind reader called. “When I can feel my legs again, I’ll move to that chaise over there.” Canaan pointed to the window area which featured a small desk and narrow chaise. “I can sleep there if you’re not comfortable sharing.”