Page 52 of Mr. B

“I thought women only wore stuff like that to make a guy crazy.”

She finished emptying the drawers. “That shows how little you know about women.”

“I totally agree. I’m a thirty-seven-year-old bachelor. Do you want to enlighten me?”

“No.” He glanced at the front of her T-shirt, and she pulled the wet fabric away from her skin. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Um…yes, ma’am.” He went to the closet, took the half-dozen shirts hanging in it, and laid them on top of the clothes in one of the suitcases. “Anything else?”

Cassandra looked around the room. “My phone.” They both looked at the broken table next to the bed. “Oh my gosh, my phone!” She started to move toward the table, and Wes took her arm.

“I’m afraid it’s a goner.”

“We don’t know for sure.”

He sighed. “Fine. Let me.”

“I’m already wet.” She pulled her arm away, went to the table, and kicked the debris aside with her foot. She bent over, then held up her phone. Water dripped from the crack in the screen. “My phone. Rice to dry it out?” He cocked his head, and she dropped the phone on the floor. “I guess that’s it, then.”

They left the room, closing the door behind them, and Wes put her suitcases on the dresser in his room. “Good thing you unpacked.” He turned to her. “Hot shower?”

“I think I’ve had enough water for the night.” She took dry pajamas, underwear, and a T-shirt from her suitcase, then went to the bathroom and turned on the light. “Oh my gosh.” She looked like she’d been swimming in a sewer. “Dammit.” She turned on the water and washed her face and hands, then put her head under the running water to rinse the debris from her hair.

She changed into dry clothes, then left the bathroom. Wes was sitting on the end of the bed next to two folded blankets from the closet and a pillow from his bed. “You have two choices, Cassandra.”

“What would those be?”

“You can share the bed with me, or you can make a bed on the floor.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Why isn’t one of those choices you sleeping on the floor?”

“It’s my room. I think letting you sleep with me is quite generous considering that.”

“Wow. Letting me sleep with you?” She ignored the flip in her stomach.

“In the same bed.” He stood. “It’s up to you. I’m sure this wooden floor is plenty comfortable.”

“Weston Buchanan, I don’t like you very much right now.”

“I just saved your ass.”

“How do you figure? I was more than capable of getting out of the bed by myself.”

Wes pulled back the blanket on his bed, then lay down on his side. “While you play modern, ‘I don’t need no man to help me,’ woman, I’m going to get some sleep.”

She picked up the other pillow and threw it at him. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

He hugged the pillow to his chest. “Goodnight, Cassandra.”

She climbed onto the bed and tried to wrestle the pillow from him. He held on tight, then locked eyes with her. This time her stomach did a complete somersault, and she stopped, let go of the pillow, and climbed off the bed. “Keep the damn thing.”

She spent a few minutes making a bed on the floor, with one blanket beneath her and another to cover herself. Then she lay down and rested her head on her bent elbow. “This is perfectly comfortable.”

“Cassandra?” When she didn’t respond, he tossed the pillow at her. “You’re a damn stubborn woman.” He turned off the light, and she sighed. I’m the stubborn one?

Chapter thirteen

“Your mother was very brave last night.”