Okay, she had a point. And if he understood why in the hell he was there instead of watching episodes of The Office that he’d seen a million times already, per usual for a road trip, he would have told her. Instead, the best he could do was try not to sound as lame as he felt at the moment.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “These will stay here the whole time.”

She sighed and shook her head, but instead of closing the door in his face, she opened it up farther and stepped back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never.”

At least not on purpose.

…

Shelby had just hit post on her latest dispatch for The Biscuit, so everything was scattered in her room—yeah, that was definitely her bra in the middle of the bed—and her head was equally a mess, which was the only sorta reasonable explanation she could give for letting Ian into her hotel room at one in the morning.

There was no way this was a good idea, but there was no way she was turning him away.

The truth was that she didn’t want to.

It was their last night on the road. Tomorrow after the game, they’d be back on the team plane and headed to reality and Harbor City. No more late-night ice-skating lessons or dinners together or riding up in hotel elevators so close that they could touch but keeping their distance because once they did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Ian glanced over at her silent TV with the captions turned on. “The Office?”

“Comfort watch.” She needed something in the background to distract her or else she would have been thinking about him instead of finishing her last post from the road.

He nodded, then his attention was centered back on her—hot and intense. “It’s what I had on, too.”

“So tomorrow night after the game, we fly home,” she said, floundering for something to talk about when chitchat was the last thing she wanted with Ian in her room.

“No more dinners at the kiddie table.”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Wow. Amazing repartee, Shelby.

Really, it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Ian Petrov was here in her hotel room and all she wanted was to finish what he’d started with that kiss.

Because I like you.

Who said that and then walked away? Ian Petrov, the hottest and most frustrating man she knew.

They stood next to each other, barely a few steps apart. His hands were still stuffed in his hoodie pockets, but that didn’t make a difference. Every nerve in her body was tuned in to him. The urge to be closer to him had her taking another step toward him before she realized what she was doing. His hands were still in his pockets. Hers should be, too.