Page 95 of Bridesmaid Undercover
“Okay, so are you going to tell me about your stuffie?” he asks.
“If you must know,” I say, clearing my throat, “he’s a stuffed worm that I’ve had since I was three. He is the only love of my life, and I can’t imagine a day when I put him in a box or offer him up to someone else. He has feelings, and I intend to honor them.”
Hardy lets out a boisterous laugh. “So you have that wholeToy Storycomplex then?”
“How can you watch that movie and not assume all of your childhood toys have feelings?” Whispering, I add, “It’s gotten to the point, Hardy, where I believe that the plate I eat on at night is so relieved that I picked it to fulfill its plate duties, that if I put it back in the cupboard in exchange for a bowl, it will cry.”
“Dear God,” he whispers.
“I know. It’s a problem. So yes, Mr. Pooty Pie still has a central location on my bed.”
“Hold on a second,” he says, pausing his stringing. “You named your stuffed worm Mr. Pooty Pie?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not a problem, just wondering where the name came from?”
“A child’s brain, Hardy, where else?”
He chuckles. “You got me there.”
“So,”Hardy says as he unravels his sandwich from the wrapper, “tell me about your day.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You told me that you hate dinner time because you always eat alone. Well, I’m here eating with you and you’re not alone, so tell me about your day.”
Well, doesn’t that just kick me in the freaking heart.
The man is not only attractive and funny, but thoughtful and considerate. The fact that he remembered that conversation just goes to show how amazing he is.
“Oh, uh…well, it was fine. Nothing too exciting happened. Lots of admin work today. Oh, I don’t know if I told you this, but one of the best men that I’m working with, he has a crush on the maid of honor. They used to date, and I’ve been attempting to help him find love with her again. It’s been a slow process because he likes to chuck bowling balls up into ceilings, which I think scares her. Not sure she was into the whole Hulk show he put on.”
Hardy’s lips twist to the side, not amused. “Uh-huh, well, maybe things are going slow because you’re not doing your best work.”
“It’s hard to create magic when your beans are sour,” I say.
“What the hell does that mean?” he laughs.
“You know,Jack and the Beanstalk, magic beans, he could make things happen because the beans were prime time, cream of the crop. It’s difficult to create that magic when the best man I’m dealing with isn’t showing up as the most enchanting human she’s ever seen.”
“Hey, I asked about your day. I’d say that’s pretty enchanting,” he counters.
“I’d say that’s the bare minimum requirement for men.”
He chuckles. “Very true.” He picks up a salt and vinegar chip and chomps on it. “In all seriousness, do you really think I’m not bringing the magic?”
“No, I think you are,” I say. “Only teasing you. I think it will take time for her to adjust to everything around her and seeing you again. Give it a second.”
“I will,” he says and then nods at my sandwich. “How is it?”
“Divine,” I say before taking a large bite and making a show of it, shoving a good portion in my mouth. He looks surprised for a second, and then determination sets in his features and he opens his mouth and takes an even bigger bite from his sandwich.
Together, mouths full of Philly cheesesteak, we chew and stare at each other.
It takes all of three seconds before I snort, sending a chunk of meat across the table and right in front of his laid-out wrapper.
I grip my hand over my mouth, both horrified and entertained, while he chuckles. But with his mouth full, it sounds more like a gurgling than anything.
