Page 175 of Bridesmaid Undercover
But I love this side of Hardy. This side that I’m not sure if he shows a lot of people, but with me, it seems to come naturally. This goofy, down to earth guy. Not the man in the suit, but the man in the fish shirt looking for a good laugh.
This moment just adds to that.
Not to mention, it feels like he’s back to his normal self, and I couldn’t be happier about that. No more ignoring me. No more awkwardness. Just him.
“What kind of storm?” I ask. “Are they pointing in a certain direction, letting us know where the front is coming from?”
“I think a rainstorm from the west.”
“From the west is a dead giveaway,” I say.
“You knocking the legitimacy of the nipples?”
I smirk. “If I was knocking them, I think you would feel it, and according to Ken, you’d like it.”
Hardy rolls his eyes. “Oh my God, don’t listen to a thing he said tonight.”
Not a single thing?
Meaning…the things he said about Hardy liking me?
No, don’t do this, Everly. Don’t start overthinking.
“Oh, is that the car?” Hardy asks as a black Tesla pulls up. I check the license plate and nod.
“That would be it.”
When the car stops, Hardy opens the door and helps me in first. I settle up against the far side and then to my surprise, he slides his large body in as well, all the way to the middle so he’s plastered up against me.
That’s…new.
“Hey, man,” Hardy says as he places his hand on my leg. “How’s it going?”
Yes, hand on my leg.
We went from nape-touching to hand-holding to hand on leg.
“Good,” Vinnie, the Uber driver, says. “You guys comfortable?”
Um, well, you see, Vinnie, this man has his hand on my thigh, and I’m not sure what to do with that.
“All set,” Hardy says casually as he leans back against the seat before man-spreading, getting himself nice and comfortable.
I’ll be honest with you, my breathing has made a complete one-eighty.
It’s sharp, short, and ragged.
And if we’re mentioning hard nipples, all I can say is, guilty. But whereas Hardy’s predict the weather, mine are attempting to predict his next move.
Does he like me? Does he not?
I’ve never been more confused. I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m becoming more and more tense.
After a few seconds of silence, Hardy says, “What did you think of the syringe shots?”
“Interesting,” I say as his thumb rubs along my leg, making me gulp. “Never took a shot like that before.”
“It’s a Maple special. It took me right back to college when she pulled them out—then again, that was the theme of the night.”
