And yeah, I know I sound like a bitch.
And I know it’s not Delilah’s fault that her boyfriend’s best friend cheated on me, therefore getting me into this entire Nick-being-hot-but-also-running-hot-and-cold situation.
I know that. But I still can’t keep myself from acting bitchy. And if I have to stand here and talk to her for another minute, I will actually lose my shit.
“It was great. But I’m exhausted. And we missed dinner. And my blood sugar is probably low.” So, as carefully as I can, I extract myself from Nick’s tentacles and nudge him toward the dining room. “Didn’t you offer to see if the dining room could put together a plate for us? I’m going to shower. Okay? See you when you have food. Bye.”
And before he can respond, I stomp off up the path to our perfect, lovely, romantic cabin. Where I will, undoubtedly, once again, sleep alone in the gigantic bed.
“Hey, Butterscotch!” I hear Nick call from behind me.
I wave a hand over my shoulder without turning to look at him. “Low blood sugar! Go get me food!”
I keep stomping all the way to the cabin. I do the whole cleaning my feet in the pan of water thing to get the sand off and then let myself into the cabin where that enormous king-size bed taunts me.
I glare at it as I stomp past and head straight for the shower, muttering curses as I go.
“What are you good for, anyway? The whole point of having a king-size bed in a fake dating scenario is for the couple who is fake dating to have to sleep in the same bed. But you couldn’t even do that right!”
I shoot the bed the bird and then stomp into the bathroom and crank on the water in the shower.
The super romantic, outdoor shower, I might add.
Not that this shower is going to see any action while we’re staying here… apparently.
I strip off my clothes and get in the shower, scrubbing quickly to stay under the resort’s suggested time limit.
I’m in and out in under five minutes and wrapping myself in a towel when I hear the cabin door open.
Shit.
What is he doing back so soon?
There is no way he had time to order food from the dining room, wait for it, and get back here that fast. I was counting on at least twenty minutes to calm down.
And there’s the matter of my clothes still being in the drawer in the bedroom, since I assumed I’d have plenty of time to get dressed. Not that going out into the room in only a towel will be a problem, since Nick apparently isn’t attracted to me at all.
Which is fine.
It’s fine.
Or it would be if my panties didn’t fall off of their own accord every time he even looks at me.
Still, it’s not like I can live in this bathroom for the next four days. Yes, the water is potable and the hibiscus blossoms are edible—and apparently an excellent source of vitamin C—but I don’t think I’d last very long. After all, I’m not the Navy SEAL in this… well, it’s not a relationship, now is it?
So I gird my loins—and by gird my loins, I mean wrap myself in a towel—and go out to face the music—and by music I mean Nick.
“How did you get back here so fast?” I ask blithely, pretending I’m not wearing only a towel. “You couldn’t possibly have—” I stop myself from finishing the sentence when I see the bag of food in his hand.
“I knew it was going to be a long day, and you’d be hungry when we got back. So This morning I asked the chef to have food ready.”
“I guess you thought of everything, didn’t you?”
He gives me a baffled look, shaking his head in obvious confusion. “Why are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad? I’m not mad. I’m fine.”
He has the gall to look amused. “You’re obviously not fine. You’re pissed as fuck. And we can either play twenty questions until I figure out what I did to piss you off or you can just tell me.”
