Page 128 of Bridesmaid for Hire
Everly:I love that idea. Branching out is exactly what we need to get that storefront.
Maggie:You are amazing. Thank you.
Everly:I am amazing, thank you for seeing that.
Maggie:LOL. Get some sleep.
“Hey.” I’m startled from my phone as I look up to find Brody standing in front of me wearing a pair of gray sweats that are doing all sorts of things to my libido. He scratches his bare chest as he looks at me with sleepy eyes.
“Hey. I thought they only had a Speedo for you to wear.”
“For swimming, but they had spare clothes too.” His eyes narrow in on my overlarge sweatshirt. “What are you wearing?”
“Oh, I was cold. Hudson gave me his sweatshirt to wear.”
His brows knit together.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you not feeling better?”
“No, I feel better,” he says, but his brow is still creased.
“Then why do you look upset?”
He moves his hand over his jaw, studying me for a few silent seconds and then without saying anything, he disappears into the boat.
Uh…where is he going?
Is he still feeling those pills?
I hope not.
He was saying some loopy stuff, and now that Reginald is back on the boat, I don’t want him slipping up in front of him. The old man is still grumpy about his fish getting away.
After what seems like five minutes, he returns—thank God—carrying his backpack, which he brought with him when we left this morning. I remember wondering what he was packing but I didn’t question him.
He sets it on the bench seat next to me, opens it up, and pulls out a navy blue zip-up hoodie. “Here,” he says.
“What’s this?”
“My sweatshirt,” he says. “You can wear it.”
“Oh, this one is fine,” I say as I pluck at Hudson’s.
“It’s not fine,” he says as he stares me down. “It belongs to another man.” He pushes his sweatshirt toward me. “This one is mine, which means it’s yours. Put it on.”
I stare back. “Do you really want me to take off this sweatshirt and put on yours because you’re acting like a jealous idiot?”
“Iexpectyou to take off his sweatshirt and put on mine, because you’re my girlfriend and my girlfriend wears my sweatshirt, not someone else’s.”
“You’re serious?” I ask, finding this almost laughable, but when he doesn’t even crack a smile, I realize that maybe he really does mean it.
“Dead serious, Maggie. Take it off.”
Okay…
I take my arms out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt and then lift it over my head. I fold the sweatshirt and I set it to the side only to take Brody’s and slip it on.
And I hate to admit it, but it smells like him and it’s softer. I zip it up and then bring my legs into my chest as I say, “Happy?”
