Page 44 of Not Your Average Vixen
“Roommates?” he and Bridget exclaimed in unison.
This petite bull of a bridesmaid thought she had him cornered, but now, they’d both been thrown for a loop. Sure, he was going to have to play the part of the wedding assistant, but he’d figure out a way to lose her and get some alone time with Tom. Time to convince his best friend that this wedding was a mistake. And pretending to be Birdie’s little helper would make everyone—including Tom—think that he was one hundred percent supportive of this hasty union until he could convince Tom that he wasn’t ready to get married.
He had to be smart. He had to make Tom think that calling off the wedding was his idea.
But he figured he’d at least have his own room to plot and plan. Someplace to escape his nemesis’s perfect curves and cinnamon vanilla scent.
Helping Bridget glue pinecones onto chandeliers or whatever the hell kind of bullshit went into a mountain wedding was one thing. Spending twenty-four seven with her could…
It could damn well push him over the edge.
Those mahogany eyes lured him in and made him forget everything.
He’d broken every rule he’d made for himself last night. He couldn’t help it. With her in his arms, he wasn’t the aloof womanizer. He wasn’t the ruthless businessman. He was different. Her kiss-swollen lips and rich brown eyes had given him a glimpse of life’s true, vibrant palette with its bright, shining splendor and endless possibilities. He’d been living a black-and-white existence, but with her, anything seemed possible.
Sweet Kris Kringle! What the hell was wrong with him? He could not entertain this quasi-poetic and utterly sappy nonsense.
The chance of Soren Christopher Traeger Rudolph becoming a benevolent, doting boyfriend was about as likely as Cole and Carly capturing a Christmas fairy.
If anything, he was more of an Ebenezer Scrooge, and there was no way Bridget, or some aberration, could make him change his ways.
Hell no!
It wasn’t real. She’d played the part of the vixen while he’d pretended to be…whole, complete. Two things he could never be. He wasn’t built that way.
Last night was a mistake. He’d given in to that little voice inside of him that yearned for more. He wasn’t capable of giving a woman his heart—if he even had one. Thanks to a miserable childhood void of warmth and kindness, the only connection he was capable of was the one forged with the Abbotts.
And it didn’t matter if Bridget “Birdie” Dasher was the most alluring and disarming woman on the planet. He wasn’t about to lose them. They were the closest thing to family he’d ever known.
This was war. And thanks to a career spent callously dismantling companies, he’d allow that side of him to take the Dasher sisters down and put the brakes on Tom’s wedding.
Bridget cleared her throat. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Dan. It sounded like you said that Soren and I will be sharing a room.”
That’s what he’d heard, too, and also could use some clarification. He took in the crowd, watching their exchange, and forced himself not to react. He had to play it cool.
“That’s exactly what I said, Birdie. There are five guest rooms in the mountain house. Tom and Lori are sharing room one. Denise, Nancy, and the children are in room two. Grace and Scott have room three, and the judge and Russell are in room four. That leaves room five which—”
“Which was going to be for Garrett and me,” Bridget replied in a tight whisper.
Irritation pricked through his body at her response. “Is that his name? Garrett?” he asked a little more forcefully than he’d intended. Why did it bother him that some asshat cheated on her? What was it to him? But that didn’t stop the drive to want to kick the guy’s ass.
“Yes, I guess everyone knows why he’s not here. I’d forgotten about the room situation. Everything’s changed so fast,” she said, trailing off, her gaze awash with bewilderment.
No shit, life had changed fast! Since meeting her, his entire life had turned upside down.
She caught his eye, and the woman looked as disoriented as he felt. But, damn, if he didn’t want to kiss her until her eyes gleamed with unbridled passion like it did last night.
Enough! He could not let his mind go there.
Russ shuffled forward. “Scooter could room with the judge. I’d be happy to take one for the team and bunk in room five with Birdie—on the sleeper sofa, of course,” Russ offered with a casual wave of his hand, but the guy’s eyes were trained well south of Bridget’s face.
He stared hard at the man. He’d always liked Uncle Russ. The guy was clueless and got shot down by women left and right, but he was harmless. Except now, the thought of Bridget sharing a room with him made him want to kick his ass—after he finished kicking the ass of her ex-boyfriend.
Jesus! He’d known Bridget for a day and already had two asses to kick, and he didn’t even like the woman!
“No, I’ll bunk withBirdie,” he said in his best do-not-fuck-with-me voice.
“You will?” Bridget asked with that adorable crinkle to her forehead.
