Page 8 of Cabin Mate

“You used other women to try to get over someone else?”

Madden snickers at his wife’s intrusive questions and I narrow my eyes at him before shoving an entire slice of bacon in my mouth. “Well, it sounds terrible when you put it like that,” I talk out of the side of my mouth. My words are slightly muddled from my mouth being full. My mother would smack me in the head if she saw me.

They’re both staring at me with unamused expressions.

I sigh. “I had a rule that I’d never go on a second date with someone unless I genuinely felt something for them.”

Madden scoffs. “And after hundreds of women, you felt nothing? Dude.”

“Hundreds?? Damn, bro. You hurt me.” I bring my hand to my chest like my heart hurts.

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, how many?”

“I didn’t keep track. That’s weird.”

Odette scoots her plate away from her and pins me with her serious green eyes. She makes me feel like I’m under one of those detective lamps in the movies. The ones they use to question criminals. “So, if you really think she’s the girl for you, what’s the plan then?”

“I can’t do anything.” I huff out an annoyed sigh and widen my eyes, waiting for him to remember why I can’t act on my feelings for Molly. He has an expression on his face like I just gave him the world’s most challenging algebra equation. “The bet!”

“Oooh right.” He shrugs. “You can’t date anyone for four months, right? Wait, you didn’t sign anything, did you?” He’s using his lawyer voice, and I have to hold back a laugh.

“It’s a bet, Madden. Not a prenup.” I scoff. “But you and I both know David will make me hold up my end of the bargain.”

He nods and his mouth goes up in a grin. “Oh, now I remember. If you break your end of the deal, you have to run naked through Mom’s annual garden party at the country club.”

“Yes. And as good as I look naked, I really don’t want to do that. Some of those old ladies would keel over. And I don’t want any blood on my hands.” I chug another big gulp of coffee, trying to erase the picture from my mind.

“It’s nearly the middle of December already. You can’t have that much longer left, right?”

“True,” Odette adds. “Your dating ban started months ago!” She looks down at her plate and laughs to herself. “I still can’t believe David went on a hiking excursion … and then eloped in Venice.”

“Right?” I groan. “I never would have agreed to the bet if I thought he’d actually do something spontaneous. I made it way too easy for him to win.”

Madden and Odette chuckle, like this is the most entertaining thing ever. They look way too amused, and it’s causing my mood to sour. I pick up my buttermilk biscuit and throw it at Madden’s face. He quickly dodges it. Damn the Windell athleticism. And what a waste of a perfectly delicious biscuit … Any southerner would have my hide if they saw that.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Madden says, eyeing me in that annoyed older-brother way. “Just wait until your no-dating thing is over, and then ask Molly out.” He shrugs.

I frown down at my half-eaten eggs and bacon. “That’s an entire month that Todd can convince her to get back together with him.”

Deep down, I’m hoping this is the time she will finally be done with him for good. Even if she doesn’t want to be with me… which would be crushing… at least she could find someone who treats her right.

Madden looks at me sympathetically for the first time since this conversation started. Maybe he’s finally realizing how serious my feelings for Molly are?

Right when I think he’s going to give me some epic big brother wisdom, he reaches across the table and tousles my hair. “This might be the last thing you want to hear… but it would make my entire year if you had to run through the garden party in nothing but your birthday suit.”

Odette smacks him on the shoulder but can’t suppress her laughter.

Chapter 3

Molly

“Molly! Call. Me. Back! I know you’re avoiding me. But did you honestly think I wouldn’t be upset that my maid of honor broke up with the best man two weeks before the wedding?! Listen, all I’m asking is you get back together with him for two weeks. Then, as soon as the wedding is done, BAM! Break up. Simple as that. Or better yet, marry him! And then we can both be Du Ponts!”

My sister’s shrill, stressed out voice fades away as her voicemail ends. I sink back into my comfy bed and try to go back to sleep. It’s barely eight a.m… on a Sunday morning, no less. Why is she even up?

“Thanks a lot, Mildred. I’m wide awake now,” I grumble into my pillow.

I briefly consider finally calling her back and getting it over with, but it’s too early for that. She’s not always this dramatic … but ever since she got engaged, she’s been the ultimate Bridezilla. Last month, she left me a voicemail sobbing so dramatically I could barely understand her. After listening to the voicemail three times, I finally understood half of what she was saying… something about the china they ordered being the wrong shade of white.