Page 96 of Bridesmaid for Hire
He turns to the waitress, eyes glazed. “This is my girlfriend.”
The waitress nods. “She’s quite lovely.”
“Beautiful, actually.” Brody sways for a moment. “Probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. No, wait, not probably, for sure the most beautiful.”
I feel my cheeks flush and remind myself that there are wedding guests around, people we have to keep it together for.
He doesn’t mean that.
Right?
“You’re very lucky,” the waitress says as we make our way toward the golf cart where a nice lady is waiting for us.
Brody guides me to the back of the golf cart where he wraps his arm around my shoulder and brings me in close to his chest.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” he says to Malana. “I’d never let anything happen to her.”
“Very well,” she says and then we take off toward our bungalow.
The sun has completely dropped behind the horizon, leaving us in land lit by a tiki torch and giving us the perfect view of the starry night sky.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say. “I’m going to miss it.”
“Same,” he says quietly into my ear. “I could see myself coming back here a lot…even if that means sleeping on a chair.”
I chuckle. “Were you really going to sleep on a chair?”
“That or the beach. Figured the chair would at least offer me some self-respect.”
“What kind of chair are we talking about? A wooden dining room chair or like…a wingback chair with some cushion?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I should have asked for a picture. I was so desperate that I didn’t even think about it. I just said yes and hoped for the best.”
“And you said you weren’t good at taking chances.” I play with the buttons of his shirt.
“Yup, great chance-taker here. Will I be murdered in my Bora-Bora chair? Only one way to find out.”
I laugh just as we come to a stop in front of our bungalow.
“Here we are,” Malana says. “Have a good evening.”
“Thank you,” Brody and I say at the same time. He helps me out ofthe cart then opens the door for us, and we step into a freshly cleaned bungalow with turndown service. Yup, I’m going to miss this so much.
Brody pulls his shirt over his head, not even bothering to unbutton it, and drops it off in the dirty clothes pile that I forced him to make.
“You can use the bathroom first,” I say as I take off my sandals.
“Thanks,” he says, moving into the bathroom where I hear him turn on the shower. “Okay, guess he’s taking a shower,” I say to myself. The man takes many showers. Not a bad thing, just an observation.
I go to my dresser, the room spinning pleasantly, where I search for some pajamas, but it’s all bits of lace and silk—everything looks so uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
And then I see Brody’s suitcase out of the corner of my eye. Open and on display.
I twist my lips to the side when I notice that the hotel staff just laid down a fresh pile of clean and folded clothes, which means he doesn’t have to worry about a shortage of clothing and I have the option of stealing a shirt for the night.
He wouldn’t mind, right?
