Page 120 of Bridesmaid for Hire
Free and loose with his nakedness.
God, I’ll cherish that story for the rest of my life.
“I think I owe you something,” I say as I grip my chest, still chuckling. “Because I think that was the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
Hardy nudges his shoulder with mine. “I knew you’d like that. But listen, you share that with nobody. My own mother forced the crew and us—her very own kids—to sign an NDA after that and to never utter it to another human.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks, man.”
We continue down the beach, and as we round a bend, the men come into view, gathered around in the ocean with spears in their hands. More spears of varying lengths are lined up on the sand. I knew it smelled like masculinity as we grew closer.
I slow down. “Are you sure this is safe for me?”
“Positive. You can stay on the beach. Nothing will happen to you.”
“I’m holding you to that,” I say as we walk up to the guys.
“Hey, man,” Hudson says. “How you feeling?”
“Little loopy but good. I think I’m just going to watch.”
“Good idea, you can observe us all making fools of ourselves.” Hudson pats me on the back.
Seriously, these two. I could see them being good friends.
I lay out my towel on the beach and take a seat while the captain hands out spears to the guys. Apparently, they’ve already had their lesson and now it’s up to them to see if they can catch a fish or not. I try not to stare at Reginald, but the old man looks like he’s about to tilt over into the water at any point, ready to drench that stupid Tommy Bahama shirt he has on. God, wouldn’t that be amazing? He’s been such an asshole this entire time that I would enjoy nothing more than to experience a willy-out, running-around-the beach moment—even if it’s him struggling in the ocean with a spear.
Unfortunately for me, he moves into a nice, wide stance, which supports him as he looks around the water, arm poised to stab.
Maybe a gusty wind will blow him over. One can only hope.
Hudson and Hardy are off to the left, examining their spears, while Jude is far off to the right, looking like a complete natural. The man with his broad-ass shoulders, giant pecs, and tattoos hunts the ocean like a still motherfucker, waiting for the fish to come up to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sliced the water and grabbed a fish with his bare hand. That’s the primal instinct this guy exudes.
He hovers over the water, his eyes like lasers, and I watch as he slowly lifts his spear-throwing arm and then like a bolt of lightning, he thrusts it into the water, pulls it out, and sure as shit there’s a fish dangling on the end of it.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “What an animal.”
“You got one,” the captain says as he moves over to Jude and helps him remove the fish and place it in a cooler on the beach, close to me.
“Wow, great job,” I say to Jude.
He gives me a slight nod and then lets out a breath as he stares out at the ocean, one hand on the hip, basically telling the vast blue that he just made it his bitch.
And I believe him.
Hell, if he told me to bend over so he could slap me in the ass and claim me as well, I might. He’s that commanding.
But I bet because he’s such a humble motherfucker, he’d thank me for listening as I bent over. Then I would cry into his arms for being so kind to me. He would stroke my hair and—fuck, did these pills make me high?
What am I even thinking?
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I focus back on the guys.
After a few seconds of taking in his surroundings, Jude walks off to the left, past the bumbling brothers, who are now comparing their spears and who has the best one. Seriously, those two are future billionaires—you’d think they’d be a touch more uptight like their dad.
“Not going to fish?” Reginald asks, wading back onto the sand andwalking up to me. His swim trunks slink around his old man legs, clinging and pulling in unflattering ways that I have to force myself not to stare at.
