Page 10 of Bridesmaid for Hire
“Thank you.” I give him a quick wave and then bring my plate of fruit over to my lap.
This has to be the most beautiful display of fruit I’ve ever seen. Every piece is intricately carved to look like flowers or leaves, creating more of a picture for the eye rather than a refreshing delight for the stomach.
Because I’m that girl who likes to take pictures of everything, I snap a quick pic of my fruit plate and send it off to Hattie.
I set my phone down on my lounger and pick up a piece of pineapple that is in the shape of a leaf.
“You were pretty, but now I’m going to eat you,” I say to the yellow tropical plant before taking a large bite.
And dear Lord in heaven, is that the juiciest, freshest piece of pineapple my taste buds have ever shaken hands with. If I was alone, I’d be handing out chef’s kisses left and right. Instead, I inwardly groan and takeanother bite. Makani is going to be annoyed with me by the time his shift comes to an end, because I’ll be requiring more of this pineapple.
“Delicious,” I mutter as I pick up a strawberry only for it to slip out of my hands and onto the pool deck. “Nooo,” I groan.
What a waste of a perfectly good strawberry.
Grumbling, I set the plate to the side again, get out of my lounge chair and reach for the strawberry that has fallen under my lounger.
My nearly bare, thong-clad ass is perched out for everyone to see as I sit on my knees and lean forward, grasping for the strawberry. It takes me a few seconds, and a severe wiggling of my fingers, but I come up with the stubborn fruit and stand, holding it out in triumph.
“Ah ha,” I say just as someone runs into me. I drop the strawberry all over again, fall onto my lounge chair—stomach to cushion, my legs dangling off one side, my arms dangling off the other—just as the heavy frame lands on top of me. “Ooof.” The air is knocked from my lungs.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I hear a male voice say.
A male.
A man.
Resting on top of me.
Immediately my mind whirls with romantic fantasies.
That deep, apologetic voice.
The large body resting right on top of me.
And from what I can see from the corner of my eyes, a well-toned forearm flailing to the side with mine.
This is it.
This is my meet-cute.
And what a perfect meet-cute it is.
Me all bare-assed, searching for a strawberry—the real MVP of this scenario.
Him, wandering aimlessly, probably hungover from the night before, looking for a place to sit when all of a sudden, a curvy woman with theforethought to wear a barely-there two-piece pops up out of nowhere with strawberry in hand.
Then boom.
Clash.
Tumble.
And…love.
Isn’t that how it always happens in these rom-com meet-cutes that steal your hearts?
A silly scenario and then…the first look.
