Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Nolan

I lay on my bed, grinning like an idiot as I stared at the ceiling, wide awake at one in the morning. Thoughts of Zena consumed me, creating a warmth and comfort that spread through my entire being. There was only one reason for this euphoria and I would be a fool to deny it.

I was falling for Zena.

Hard and fast.

It was crazy and exhilarating, but most importantly, it felt right. The only problem I had was the physical space that separated us. Fifteen feet of hallway might as well have been the Grand Canyon when you were dying to be closer to someone, but knew it wasn't possible at that moment.

I sighed and turned onto my side, staring at the full moon out the window, but then flipped to the other side after it reminded me of Mr. Dalton.

My phone buzzed, and the screen illuminated with a text message.

Zena: Hey, pretty boy. Are you awake?

Me: Wide awake and thinking of you, gorgeous.

Zena: What a coincidence! I was thinking about how much I miss my favorite roomie.

Me: Aww, I miss you too. Even your adorable little drool puddle. ??

Zena: We could always cover the bed in plastic wrap the next time, like my grandma used to do with her furniture.

Me: Maybe your grandma knew about your parents' tendencies to be spontaneous outside of their home, if you know what I mean.

Zena: Don't remind me! I'm trying to bleach that image from my brain. ??

Me: No worries, I've got superhero powers, remember? I'll snap my fingers and POOF! You'll forget all about it.

Zena: My hero! But in case you didn't know, I prefer my superheroes in sexy black boxer-briefs. Are you wearing them right now?

Me: Always. I've got a drawer full of them, just for you. You'll have to miss my fashion show tonight.

Zena: Not so fast! I have the perfect solution. How about you come as you are and join me for a little late-night ice cream party in the kitchen?

Me: In my underwear? Are you trying to get me in trouble, missy?

Zena: Oh, come on! My parents are sleeping, and it's not like I haven't seen them before. Go to the kitchen and take the ice cream out of the freezer so it can thaw a bit. It's better if we go separately, in case they hear something. I'll meet you there in a couple of minutes.

Me: This feels like a trap. ??

Zena: Are you a superhero or a wimp?

Me: Can I be both?

Zena: No! I guess you don't want to see the sexy new red nightgown I bought. Your loss! Good night! ??

Me: On my way to the kitchen right now!

I've never moved so fast in my life, speed-tip-toeing out of my room, feeling like a teenage boy sneaking out the window for the first time. Luckily, the floor didn't creak under my bare feet, but there was something else loud and jolting that my ears didn't expect.

The sound of me smacking into Mr. Dalton's chest.

Wait, it gets worse …

He was standing there in his underwear as well.

"Don't tell me, you're locked out of your room again?" he asked, eyeing me up and down.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

"Have some decency," he added. "You shouldn't be running around the suite practically naked."

The irony was killing me as he stood there in his silk boxers, not to mention the "Get Your Freak On" festival I'd witnessed earlier with him and Mrs. Dalton on the couch.

I kept my reply simple and lied through my teeth. "I'm getting some water."

"What a coincidence," he said. "Me too."

Oh, come on!

I trudged downstairs behind him, this impromptu tyrant-employee bonding session about as comfortable as a cactus sweater. Mr. Dalton, ever the gracious host, poured us both a glass of water. We drank in silence, avoiding eye contact as if it was an Olympic sport.

Finally, Mr. Dalton cleared his throat. "We should head back up and try to get some sleep."

I nodded so hard I almost gave myself whiplash. "Great idea."

He accompanied me back upstairs to my room. We said goodnight, then I entered my bedroom and fired off a text to Zena.

Me: Houston, we have a problem. I ran into your dad. Literally. ??

Zena: I know! I heard you outside my door.

Me: Round two?

Zena: You brave, foolish man. I'm in.

This time, I barely made it out of my room before Mr. Dalton appeared in the hallway again, like a ghost in a budget horror movie. I froze mid-step, one foot hovering in the air, as if staying perfectly still might somehow make me invisible. This was turning into some sort of bizarre sitcom. All we needed now was a laugh track and a catchy theme song.

"Did you forget something?" Mr. Dalton said, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Nope—we left the light on downstairs," I stammered.

"I don't think we did," Mr. Dalton said.

"No?" I shrugged, trying to come up with something else. "Well, better safe than sorry, right? Saving electricity is important. Like taxes."

Like taxes? Where did I even get that from?

Mr. Dalton's eyebrows furrowed. "Right …"

In a moment of either bravery or complete idiocy, I asked, "What about you? Why are you up again?"

"I left my reading glasses downstairs," he simply said. "If the light is on, I'll turn it off."

"Good. Great. Perfect." I nodded. "Teamwork—that's what it's all about, isn't it? Who would know better than you?"

I sounded like a rambling idiot.

We stood there, two grown men in our underwear, staring at each other in the dim hallway.

Mr. Dalton cleared his throat. "Okay—good night."

Nodding again a few times, I said, "Yup. Goodnight."

I entered my room again and flopped back onto my bed, grabbing my phone to update Zena on the latest development in our ice cream saga.

Me: Mission aborted. Again. ??

Zena: I heard! This is ridiculous.

Me: What should we do? Give up?

Zena: No way! Let me go down there first. I'll text you from the kitchen when there's no clear and present danger.

Me: Waiting for your orders, Captain!

I stood by the door, my phone in hand, waiting for another text from Zena. The anticipation was killing me, but I didn't understand why we were acting like teenagers trying to sneak around. We were grown adults who wanted to enjoy some late-night ice cream! There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. I glanced down, remembering I was only wearing underwear.

Oh, that's right.

Finally, my phone vibrated.

Zena: Get your butt to the kitchen! Here's a sneak preview of what is waiting for you. ??

What came next almost sent me into cardiac arrest. Zena had shared a selfie of herself in her red nightgown, holding the carton of chocolate ice cream with the biggest smile on her face. I swallowed hard, wondering the last time I had seen something so beautiful. I cursed myself for taking so long to leave the room.

Me: On my way! ??

I tossed the phone on the bed and headed back out with lightning speed, no tip-toeing, crossing my fingers I wouldn't fall off the spiral staircase on the way down. I entered the kitchen just as Zena was licking the spoon with a smile, and I almost lost it on the spot. I loved the way she looked at me in her sexy lingerie, the neckline dipping dangerously low and the hemline riding high, leaving tantalizing glimpses of her silky skin.

"You are … wow," I said, walking over to her.

Without another word, I snagged the spoon from her hand and set it on the counter, then pulled her tight against my body and kissed her. Immediately, my senses were on high alert. The material of her satin nightgown was so thin, I felt every curve of her body against mine as we kissed. And considering my current state of dress, this was a dangerous game we were playing. Especially since she now had solid evidence of how much I was enjoying this moment. Too bad it would be short-lived.

Someone cleared their throat in the kitchen, and I was certain it wasn't Zena or me. We pulled away from the kiss, both of us turning to see Mrs. Dalton standing there in her own red nightgown, a grin on her face.

"Looks like we all had the same idea," she said, gesturing to the ice cream on the counter.

Mrs. Dalton mentioned nothing about what she had seen, although she glanced down at my underwear, catching an eyeful before I slid behind Zena. Seemingly unfazed, she grabbed a bowl and began dishing out her own ice cream. As she dug into the carton with the scooper, the familiar lyrics of Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" escaped her lips, her hips swaying to the rhythm as if this were another ordinary late-night snack in the comfort of her own home.

Zena and I exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between us. What were we supposed to do now? I had no clue. All we could do was sit down at the table, eat the ice cream, and try to act like everything was normal, even though it was anything but. After a couple of minutes of awkward, silent ice cream eating, I finally spoke up.

"This is good," I said.

"Yeah," Zena agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Superb."

It was a riveting conversation, no doubt.

Mrs. Dalton set her spoon down, her expression softening. "I wanted to apologize for what you saw earlier when you came in. I don't know what came over me, but you'll be happy to know that you'll have your own hotel room tomorrow night after the game."

I waved my hand, trying to appear nonchalant, even though I was over the moon to know I would have my roomie back. "Don't worry about it. You got caught up in the moment. It's very easy to do." I hoped she understood the double meaning behind my words after she had caught us as well, albeit not as indisposed as they were on the couch.

She nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Very easy." She leaned forward, her eyes darting between Zena and me. "It's obvious what's going on between you two."

I froze, my spoon hovering midair.

"Don't worry—I'm okay with it," Mrs. Dalton continued.

I let out a deep breath and nodded. "That's a relief, because I care about Zena. A lot. I hope you know that." I reached for Zena and grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

Mrs. Dalton shook her head dismissively. "Are you kidding me? That is obvious. You're a wonderful man, Nolan. I'm thrilled you two hit it off." She paused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "One word of advice, though. Try to keep your clothes on whenever Everett is around."

"Of course," I said, thinking that Zena had such a cool mother. "And if you don't mind, maybe you and Mr. Dalton could extend the same courtesy to us."

"Amen!" Zena said, as we all shared a laugh.

"Deal," Mrs. Dalton said with a smile. She leaned closer, like she wanted to share a secret. "So, are you two ready to take this game to the next level?"

Zena and I exchanged a confused look.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We need to win Everett over," Mrs. Dalton said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's a tough nut to crack, but I have the perfect plan. Are you up for it?"

I straightened up in my chair, determined. "Yes! I'll do whatever it takes, of course."

A smile spread across Mrs. Dalton's face. "Perfect! The only thing we need to do when we get back to San Diego is plan a wedding."

Zena and I froze, our mouths hanging open as Mrs. Dalton scooped more ice cream into her bowl.

A wedding?

Whose wedding exactly?

And why would I be involved?

I must have misheard her, but needed confirmation.

"I'm sorry, you lost me there with the part about the wedding," I spoke up.

"Don't worry, I'll fill you in soon," Mrs. Dalton said. "Right now, the focus should be on winning the next two games before heading back to California! And I need to get this bowl of ice cream up to Everett before it melts. Good night."

And on that annoyingly vague note, she headed out of the kitchen, leaving us alone and stunned.

I immediately turned to Zena, my brow furrowed. "Do you have any idea what your mother was talking about? What wedding was she referring to?"

Zena shrugged, her expression as bewildered as mine. "I have no idea."

"She sounds like she's up to something," I said.

"Definitely," Zena said. "And that's what worries me the most."