Page 27 of Bridesmaid for Hire
“It’s called being professional, maybe give it a try,” he shoots back as I get in my golf cart. He takes a seat right next to me and positions his suitcase on his lap.
“Uh, what are you doing?” I ask him.
“Getting a ride, what does it look like?”
“Where is your cart?”
“They have to charge it, so they’re delivering it to me tomorrow. Told them I would catch a ride with you.”
“Oh…” I put the cart in reverse and then take off down the plank bridge and toward my bungalow, the lush, night-dark landscaping alive with thecries of insects. We’re silent the entire time, which is appreciated because the last thing I want to do is make small talk with him. And I’m sure he doesn’t want to have this conversation with me while we’re driving by a bunch of bungalows that are most likely rented by wedding guests.
So I absorb the silence.
When we reach my bungalow, I put the cart in park, connect it to the charger, and then go to my front door, Brody following closely behind.
I glance over my shoulder and say, “Don’t you want to put your bag in your room?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he says. “We can talk first, then I’ll settle in.”
“We can always talk in the morning,” I say as I open my door.
“I’d rather not,” he says as he steps in behind me.
“Uh, please take your shoes off, I don’t want you tracking your dirt everywhere.” I slip off my sandals and line them up by the door with my other shoes.
He glances at the setup and rolls his eyes before kicking off his shoes and leaving them in disarray next to the door.
Ugh, men.
He then rolls his suitcase into the bedroom where he leaves it in the middle of the floor and then to my horror, flies back on the bed, hands behind his head.
“Uh, excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?”
He bounces on it, testing the mattress. “Yup, this will do.”
Hands on my hips, I march up to the side of the bed and ask, “What do you meanthis will do?”
“Ooh, did I forget to mention I was lying about my bungalow? Well, I was. I actually don’t have a place to stay…well, that’s a lie. I had a chair to sleep in, offered by a local, but this bed feels like a much better option.”
A horrified laugh pops out of my mouth as I round the bed so I’m right next to him. “This bed is not an option for you.”
He sits up on his elbows. “Sure as shit is. Do you really think it’s goingto be wise for me to have to travel back and forth to a chair when I should probably be staying in a bungalow with mygirlfriend?”
“Maybe I’m a prude and don’t sleep with my boyfriends before I’m married.”
“Trust me when I say, after seeing you in that dress tonight, they’re going to think you’re anything but a prude.”
He’s not wrong…but that’s beside the point.
“You’re not staying here.”
“Pretty sure I am,” he says as he gets up from the bed and removes his jacket. He tosses it on the chair in the corner and then moves over to his suitcase. He lays it flat on the ground and unzips it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I run up to him. “Don’t even think about unpacking.”
“Unpacking? Why do I need to unpack when my suitcase can hold everything? Just need my toiletry bag.” He snaps up a black bag and takes it to the bathroom.
“Uh, first of all, living out of a suitcase is barbaric, especially when hotels offer you all the accommodations for hanging up and putting away your clothes. Secondly, you’re not staying here, so there’s no need for you to take out your toiletry bag.”
