Awesome.
When I didn’t say anything, she leaned forward to add, “And it’s laminated.”
I took a deep, calming breath and let it out just as the doors opened to an empty elevator.
Perfect timing.
“You just got a free payday,” I reminded her, looking pointedly inside the elevator, “and now you’re free to go.”
I held out an arm to keep the doors open for her. But instead of shuffling into the elevator like a normal person who’d been dismissed, Ellie leaned back and crossed her arms. Her gaze flicked over me, and I got the impression she was sizing me up.
“I’ve been in this business for a while now, Mr. Westbrook, and I know a grouch when I see one. The cuddler in me can’t just stand by and do nothing.”
I barely suppressed a scoff. “You want to change me? How cliché?—”
“No, not change you. Just help you relax a little.” Her little shrug was almost as annoying as the constant smiling. “It’s no different than a massage or a yoga class, which are also perfectly legal practices. …But if you’re too scared to try something new, then I won’t push you.”
I cocked a brow, lips flirting with a smirk. “Now the reverse psychology? Baby, I’m notscared.”
Her mouth curved innocently, but I swore a challenge flashed in her blue eyes. “Then prove it.”
My smirk dropped.
I didn’t need to prove anything. This girl was trespassing on my property, and her little challenge would be forgotten as soon as I threw her out.
But that nagging voice inside me—the one that needed to win—refused to shut up.
And I was so, so tired. Maybe I wasn’t completely thinking straight.
I dropped my arm. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but get your ass back in that bed.”
Ellie beamed—even clapping her hands before turning to the hallway. “You won’t regret this, Mr. Westbrook!”
“Cade,” I said through clenched teeth. “If we’re doing this, then call me Cade.”
“You got it, Cade,” she echoed, marching forward. “Now, let’s go cuddle.”
She headed back toward my bedroom with a skip in her step and her fluffy rainbow tail swinging behind her.
I trailed after her, considerably less enthusiastic, questioning every life choice that’d led to this moment.
I was going to bed with a unicorn.
To cuddle.
…What the hell was wrong with me?
catnap
. . .
Ellie
Ellie’s Guide to Professional Cuddling, Tip #4: Avoid silk pajamas. Too slippery.
Cade Westbrook wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t cuddle.
The guy liked his space. He had a bed fit for a king—literally—and sheets with a thread count higher than my zip code. Plush pillows I couldn’t stop rubbing my cheek against complemented a mattress I was pretty sure he’d trapped an actual cloud inside of.
