Page 24 of Host for the Holidays
“I did not make him buy me groceries! And I did not ask to borrow his clothes.” I open the window with ye olde thumb-over-the-lock trick and put a hand to my clothes to check if any are dry. “He was just being a nice host.”
“Oh, Madi. Dear, sweet Madi.” Siena takes the phone in both hands and brings her face right up close to it. It’s like she’s virtually taking me by the shoulders to talk some sense into me. “Airbnb hosts don’t do those things. Trust me. I’ve stayed in a lot of Airbnbs. I never evenseemost hosts, let alone wear their clothes. Which,again,Rémy is gorgeous. That is information that should have been communicated immediately, young lady. Why did you withhold it?”
A lot of times, Siena talks like I don’t have a boyfriend. When I call her out on it, she claims she’s just stating observations, like a scientist does, and that I shouldn’t be such a science hater.
“Oh yeah,” she says before I can respond. She’s in the kitchen now, snacking on what looks like cashews. “You were too busy chucking things at that beautiful face.” She shakes her head like she’ll never get me and pops another cashew into her mouth. “Still, you haven’t been doing that thewholetime you’ve been there. You could have said something.”
“Why? Because you would have flown to Paris immediately?”
“Um, ifyou’renot going to pursue that, one of us should. How does Josh feel about your overly helpful and attractive host?”
I feel like she’s got that switched around. Rémy is not overly helpful, but he might be overly attractive. I shrug, then set the phone on the windowsill while I fold the dry clothes from the rack. “He was the one who asked Rémy to take me around.”
“Hewhat?”
I prepare myself for another assault on Josh. I also don’t add that he offered to pay Rémy for his services.
“Josh is busier than he had expected,” I say, hoping I don’t sound defensive. Sometimes I wish Siena would just throw all her complaints about Josh straight at him.
Siena’s head tilts to the side, and one of her eyebrows cocks. “Busy training Brianne?”
I shoot her an unamused glance. I should never have even told Siena about Josh’s new coworker. He’s helping train Brianne, and when I saw a picture of them at a work lunch pop up on social media, I felt a bit insecure. Since I was with Siena at the time . . .
My socks aren’t quite dry, so I leave them on the line by themselves. I pause, then look at the pile of folded clothes. My bra is missing. I look out to the clotheslines again, but it’s definitely not there.
Oh dear. Sticking my head out the window as far as it will let me, I look down. My vision goes a bit wobbly for a second because I’m basically on the roof of a six-story building. I can’t see anything on the cobblestones, which means the bra didn’t fall down to the courtyard—unless someone took it. Ew.
I’m just about to pull my head in when I spot it.
“Oh, gosh,” I say.
“What? What is it?”
I step back, as if not being able to see the bra will magically make it move somewhere else. “My bra dropped.”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“I was drying it on the lines outside my window, but it dropped onto Rémy’s lines downstairs.”
Siena looks at me for a second with wide eyes, like she’s trying to understand what I’m saying.
I turn the camera, angling it at my bra dangling over the laundry rack below.
Siena busts up laughing. “I’m sorry, but Paris Madi is killing me! I feel like we should be documenting this so we can sell the story to Netflix or something. Will you take me with you when you ask Rémy for your bra?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to do that. Not even a little. A girl can only do so many embarrassing things before she turns into a puddle of humiliation and seeps into all those crevices between the cobblestones. “No, I’m not taking you with me.”
“Aw, come on! You get to haveallthe fun.”
I peek out the window again. “I’m not taking you because I’m not asking him for it. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and the wind will blow it down into the courtyard.”
Siena’s laughing again, and I can’t blame her. Talking about luck favoring me after the last couple of days . . . it’s crazy. Given how things have been going, it’s more likely the bra will blow right in through Rémy’s closed window and onto his gorgeous face.
His perfectly average face, I mean. Siena’s voice is infiltrating my head again.
“You arenothelping right now,” I say to her continuing laughter.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She gets a hold of herself, clears her throat, and does a big body shake like a kindergartener trying to get out the wiggles. “Okay. I’m better now. How’s your mom’s cruise going?”
