Page 29 of Bridesmaid for Hire
He rinses again and then turns off the water. I spin around just in time for him to shamelessly open the shower door and grab a towel.
The audacity of this man.
“Go ahead, call security on yourboyfriend. See what happens. I have no problem exposing you to the Hopper family. Pretty sure that won’t bode well for your business plans.”
Frustration thrums through my veins as I realize he’s right. I can ruin him. He can ruin me. It’s a tit-for-tat situation here, and I don’t think there is any way around it.
“Realizing that I’m right, aren’t you?” he asks as he moves past me, thankfully with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Doesn’t stop me from watching little droplets of water fall from his hair and cascade down his smooth, muscular back.
He bends down to his suitcase and starts tossing clothing to the side until he pulls out a pair of black briefs. His hands move to his waist and without warning, he rips the towel from his body, exposing his tight, firm ass and causing me to simultaneously drool and scream.
“Do you not have any decency?” I yell as I cover my eyes once again.
“Please, as if you haven’t been staring. Just making it easier for you.” He snaps the waistband of his underwear, letting me know that he’s all covered up.
I uncover my eyes, and he turns toward me, towering like the giant that he is as he picks up his towel, only to run it over his hair, sticking it up in all different directions.
“I was not staring.”
“Maggie, I saw you. The shower door is frosted, but I could still see what was happening on the other side. Your eyes were on me.”
“Uh, because I was having a conversation with you.”
He shakes his head and moves past me again to the bathroom where he starts brushing his teeth. “Are you getting ready for bed?” I ask.
“Yup,” he answers, mouth full of toothpaste.
“You’re not sleeping here.” I stomp my foot this time, hoping that might get him to listen, but who am I kidding, it’s Brody McFadden.
He spits out his toothpaste and smirks at me but doesn’t say anything. When he’s done, he switches off the bathroom light, grabs a phone charger from his suitcase, and then plugs it into the outlet on one side of the bed.
“Hello, did you hear me?”
“The fish below us can hear you,” he says. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to listen.” He hops into bed, plugs his phone in, and then gets comfortable. “I like to sleep naked, but given the way your eye is twitching, I’ll keep the underwear on just for you.” He fluffs his pillow. “The sacrifices I’m making—I should get an award.”
“Oh my God, I hate you so much,” I say as I storm over to my dresser and pull out my pajamas. I know there is no use arguing with him tonight. He’s not going to move and it’s only going to make me more aggravated, so I get ready for bed as well, taking my time so I can calm down. But unlike him, I shut the door behind me.
As I strip out of my dress and take care of my business, I try to think of a way to solve the problem currently lying in my bed, but nothing comes to mind. Absolutely nothing. There’s no way I can afford to pay for his own bungalow. I got this on a discount thanks to some hospitalitycontacts. It was a lucky steal, especially since the Hopper wedding is here this week. And creating a scene with him won’t be helpful either. I don’t like the man, but I’m also not a heartless bitch who wants to see someone’s career tank just because I can’t get along with him.
I finish brushing my teeth and then slip on my pajamas. When I look in the mirror, I realize a major problem.
The only pajamas I have with me are “woman on the prowl” lingerie sets. They’re comfortable to sleep in, but nothing I should be wearing around my brother’s best friend. This particular one is a coral lace cami set with a see-through stomach and lace bottoms. The bust area barely contains my breasts and the front of the torso flaps open.
Maybe I should grab a T-shirt…but I didn’t bring any to sleep in. This is what I brought. And it’s not like I can run to the gift shop. And there’s no way in hell I’m asking to borrow one of his shirts. Which means…he has to deal with this.
I look at myself in the mirror and note how great I actually look. Freshly washed face, wavy hair past my shoulders, my body bronzed everywhere. Okay…maybe this isn’t a bad thing. He wants to share a bed, then he can deal with this. He’s walking around in just boxer briefs, and there are no double standards in this bungalow, so…lingerie it is.
With a surge of confidence, I open the bathroom door and move around the bed. I feel it, the minute his eyes land on me and what I’m wearing because he shifts in the bed.
“Put that on for me?” he asks in a cocky tone. “You shouldn’t have, princess.”
“Don’t call me that, and don’t flatter yourself. I like feeling sexy when I go to bed.”
“Yeah…like to turn yourself on?”
I squint at him. “Can you not be a pig? God.”
