"Dickhead is more like it," Grant answered.
As we climbed from the car and grabbed our bags, I was almost thankful it was so dark outside. If I saw the building in the harsh light of day, I'm not sure I could have forced myself to stay.
Grant waited beside me while I slid the key into the lock and twisted the handle. The strong stench of old mildewed carpet assaulted my senses when I pushed the door open. Reaching a hand along the wall, I found the light switch and turned it on. Swallowing hard, I stepped into the room, which was far worse than I imagined. The carpet was worn with the concrete floor exposed in several areas. What there was of carpet was stained. By what, I didn't even want to think about. The walls that were once white were a dingy yellow from years of neglect and cigarette smoke discoloration. There was a bed and a small dresser with a broken leg that made it wobble when you touched it.
"I'm in hell," I mumbled, walking farther into the room. I was afraid to touch anything else and didn't know how I was going to manage sleeping here.
"Well, that's not true. If it was hell, it wouldn't be this damn cold," Grant said, walking over to my thermostat to adjust the heat. A groaning noise moved through the wall, but thankfully a blast of warm air blew through the vent. "I guess I better go check if mine is any better," he added, opening the door that adjoined our rooms. The second door was warped and didn't close completely.
"I guess it's a good thing you're the one in the room adjacent to mine," I said sarcastically as he pushed the warped door open, which creaked loudly.
"On a positive note, you can rest well knowing I can't sneak up on you," he said, making the door squeak again as he walked into his room.
I circled around again to take in the room, unsure of what I wanted to do. I was dead tired, but my day of travel had left me feeling frumpy and dirty. Standing in the middle of my disgusting room wasn't helping matters. Still holding my bag, I stripped off the comforter that looked like it hadn't been washed in a decade. The sheets looked marginally better. After giving them a quick inspection, I figured they would have to do. I placed my bag and purse on the middle of the bed and headed to the bathroom with a pair of socks and my bathroom bag in hand. I paused along the way to close the door that separated our adjoining rooms.
I showered quickly, in part because I could barely keep my eyes open, but mostly because the hot water worked about as well as everything else at the motel. Drying off, I pulled on my socks, since there was no way I was walking on the floor with bare feet. The towels were small and barely wrapped around my torso. I had to admit, as tired as I felt, the bed suddenly didn't look as bad as it had a few minutes ago. I decided to lie down for a minute to see how the mattress felt. My intention was to get back up and put on some pajamas, but before I knew it, my eyes closed and I was out.
***
I was having one of those half in-half out kinds of dreams when a tickling sensation on my leg caused me to stir. I tried to ignore it, not wanting to wake up. It was only when the tickling moved up my leg that my mind sprang to awareness. With speed that would make a track star envious, I leaped from the bed, screaming bloody murder. Swatting at my thigh, I knocked the biggest bug I had ever seen from my body just as Grant charged into my room. He looked like a wild man ready for action with a lamp clutched in his hand. Despite my bug phobia, it didn't escape my notice that Grant was wearing nothing but boxer briefs that left little to the imagination. It was at that moment that I remembered I had neglected to put on pajamas before I fell asleep. My eyes met Grant's as he came to two obvious conclusions at once. One—I wasn't being attacked by some mass murderer, and two—I was standing in the middle of the room stark naked with the exception of my Care Bears socks.
Chapter 5
Grant's eyes drifted from my face down to my very naked body. Grabbing the towel at my feet, I hastily wrapped it around my torso, which didn't cover much since the towel was intended for a child.
"What the hell are you doing? Don't look!" I yelled while attempting to cover all the important areas.
Grant's expression sparkled with a mixture of amusement and desire. My knees suddenly felt weak as a flush tinted my cheeks.
"I thought someone was murdering you," he laughed, dragging his eyes away from my breasts, which could still be seen through my clenched fists that were trying to hold up the towel.
"It was a bug," I screeched as the offending insect crawled across the floor. Without any thought of the consequences, I flew across the room into Grant's arms.
Perhaps it would have been erotic if I wasn't trying to climb him like a monkey.
"As nice as it feels to have you...wrapped around me, if you want me to kill your little friend, you're going to have to let go," he said in strained voice. Releasing him self-consciously, I realized I had stepped over the line. He was seeing someone. Sure, he had been nice to me all day, and at times even flirty, but that was probably just me trying to fabricate something that wasn't there. It didn't help the situation to think about how good his rock-hard bare chest felt pressed against mine, or how low his boxers fit on his hips.
"Sorry," I said, untangling my arms from around his neck. I stepped away from him as he picked up one of my boots and held it in the air. "Wait, don't use my boot," I pleaded, but I was too late. The crunching sound made me grimace even though I was glad the bug was gone.
"Nice socks," he said, wiping the sole of my boot on the carpet.
"Thanks," I squeaked. He walked to my bathroom and came back a moment later with a wad of toilet paper. I wanted to gag when he scooped up the dead bug carcass and flushed it down the toilet. My heart rate returned to normal now that the threat was gone. Of course, the fact that Grant had not only seen my goods, but that I had also thrown myself into his arms like some damsel in distress was still hanging out there. No pun intended to myself. I pawed through my bag and found my PJ shorts and sleeping shirt before heading to the bathroom. For future reference, I will make sure I get dressed before going to sleep from now on.
After a pity party that abruptly ended when I saw another bug crawl out from under the sink, I left the bathroom. We were literally in the roach hell motel.
Grant was still standing in the doorway of our adjoining rooms looking at me like I had been dipping in spiked eggnog.
"What? I hate bugs. Okay?" I said, surveying the room like I expected an army of roaches to appear at any moment to drag me away.
"I'm just disappointed you decided to put on some clothes. That'll take half the fun out of coming back in here if you see another one," he said, dropping my boot and heading back to his room.
"Glad you enjoyed the show," I said, playing along, although my adrenaline was rushing through my veins.
When I was able to clear the image of his six-pack from my mind, I looked around at all the possible places a bug could hide. I debated going to the car to sleep, but the thought of freezing my butt off held me back. This was officially shaping up to be the worst holiday season ever. I should have followed my instincts and opted for a sandy beach instead. It was too late to cry over spilled milk, so I came up with a plan where I could hopefully get a little sleep. I started off by pulling the bed away from the wall. Thankfully it wasn't bolted down like everything else in the room. Once the bed was as far away from the walls as I could get it, I stripped it to make sure there were no more unwanted guests hiding in the sheets. After shaking them out, I replaced the fitted sheet on the bed and wrapped the remaining sheet around my body papoose style so nothing could crawl up my bare legs again. Only after I tucked my head under the sheet did I feel somewhat safe from any more creepy crawlies. I left the light on and fell into an uneasy sleep that involved dreams with naked chests covered in bugs.
Scratching noises on the ceiling above woke me the next morning as I emerged from the safety of my sheet cocoon. I pulled my head out in time to see two roaches scurrying across the ceiling right toward the bed. Biting back a screech, I jumped off my bed, not thinking about the sheet that was tightly wrapped around my body. Twice in two days I found myself flat on my back with the breath knocked out of my lungs. Hell. If this wasn't Christmas hell, I don't know what was.
"I'm not sure I would have picked the floor to sleep on," Grant said as his face came into view. "It looks a little rough down there."