Page 46 of Bridesmaid for Hire
My face falls flat as she beams with pride.
“I think you’re failing to realize one thing,” I say.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“You already attached yourself to me, so there is to be no flirting, no going after anyone else. You’re stuck with this hunk of a man sitting right in front of you. Remember, it’s one of the goddamn rules you insisted on.”
Now it’s her turn for her face to fall.Wait. What? She was actually considering going after Hardy or Hudson?
“And as long as you’re my pretend girlfriend, that means you belong to me,” I say, the thought of her flirting with Hudson or Hardy really grating on my nerves. “You’re not to even look at another man.”
“Okay, caveman. I can’t not look at them.”
“I mean not look at them in a way that you would look at me.”
“With disdain?” she asks, that smart mouth making its reappearance.
“With absolute adoration.”
“Oh, is that how you think I look at you?” She winces. “Sorry, for misleading you. You’re mistaking adoration for indigestion.”
Cute.
“You know what I mean. You’re mine while we’re here, remember that.”
She props her elbow up on the table and leans her chin on her hand. “Brody McFadden, are you jealous?”
I cringe. “No. Jealous of what? You being with another man? Not even close, princess. I’m just covering our asses here. The last thing we need is for you to flirt with Hudson—”
“I think Hardy is more my type.”
Why does that literally make me feel murderous?
“Either way,” I grind out. “You are not to make a move. If you feel yourself needing the attention, just come to me.”
“And what the hell are you going to do?” she asks.
“Allow you to practice your failed flirting attempts. What else?”
“They’re not failing.”
“Says the single girl,” I say, causing her jaw to nearly hit the table in outrage.
Yeah, that might have been a low blow, but Jesus, she brings it out of me.
“I will have you know I haven’t had time to flirt with anyone. Not that you’d understand, but running your own business takes up a lot of time,and when I do have some free moments to myself, they’re usually used up with self-pampering because I’m too tired to do anything else. I’m not single because I suck at flirting. I’m single because I’m a workaholic who has based her entire life and self-worth around her business.”
She sits back in her chair and presses her hands to the table, taking a few deep breaths and probably going over the words she just said.
They were pretty hefty.
A meaningful admission that I’m not sure she understood about herself up until now.
“Listen—”
“Forget about it.” She blows out another breath. “It’s fine. Okay. Let’s just move on.”
Seeing that I pushed her too far, I say, “Okay, yeah.”
