Page 12 of Hot for the Jerk

Two brass keys were placed on the counter before us.“Breakfast is served in the dining room between seven-thirty and nine-thirty.Checkout is at noon.If you need to stay another night, let me know by ten.”

I lifted my gaze to find Lenora giving Raina and I both a very stern, very motherly, very disapproving look.She sniffed the air and made a face, then focused her attention on Raina.“Not one to be cruel, my dear, but you stink.Best you have a shower before bed.”

I smothered my chuckle with my hand, then nodded at Lenora.“My apologies, Lenora.You won’t hear a peep out of us.I’ll just go grab my bag from the truck.”

I could feel Raina’s glare on me as I made my way back outside into the storm.The heat of it on my back was probably the only warm thing about me—and for once, I welcomed it.

One night, one bed, in a small bed-and-breakfast room with Raina Aaronson was the definition of my own personal hell.I made sure to grab a bunch of beer along with my bag before I headed back inside.Because if I had to suffer through a night with that ice queen, I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it sober.

CHAPTER FOUR

Raina

“I’mallright,Mom.I promise,” Marco said over the phone, as I carried my bag and several bottles of wine up the stairs to the room I had to share with the biggest jerk on the planet.“Aunt Gabrielle has me sleeping on Damon’s floor.It’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure it will be, buddy.I just don’t like being away from you.”

“Just stay safe, Mom.”

“I love you, sweetheart.Sweet dreams.”

“Love you too.See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

I hung up with my child just as I reached the landing, then I made my way down the hall toward the honeymoon suite.Of course, McEvoy and I would wind up sharing a room with one bed.Offuckingcourse.Because the universe was testing me.There was no other explanation for it.I was being tested for some unknown reason.Was it to see if I would commit murder?We were all capable of it under the right circumstances.Or was it to see if I would take my own life?Or maybe it was to see if I could drink two bottles of wine andnotwind up with alcohol poisoning?It was really anybody’s guess.

I reached the room and slid the key into the lock, opening it to the sound of the shower running.

Of fucking course he would jump in the shower first.There was absolutely no chivalry with the bearded Neanderthal that was Jagger McEvoy.What the hell kind of name was Jagger anyway?Were his parents fans of the Rolling Stones?Did they lose a bet?Or did they just run out of boy names since he was boy number five?They just closed their eyes and pointed at a random name in a baby book?

I mean, sure, it wasn’t theworstname in the world, it just seemed like the worst since it was attached to one of the worst human beings.

The room wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination.It was claustrophobically small, actually.The bed was more like a double than a queen and had two tiny-ass, white nightstands on either side.A small, shabby-chic white vanity—painted in the same style as the nightstands—with a chair was next to a tallboy dresser painted the same way.There was a bay window with a four-foot-long seating area adorned with so many beach-themed throw pillows I stopped counting after I got to five.

I picked up Jagger’s bag from where it rested open on the luggage rack and replaced it with mine.I dropped his bag on the floor, then went to the mini fridge in the narrow closet and stowed the wine bottles.Apparently, we had the same idea about getting drunk, because he’d already filled it with a bunch of his family’s beer.Typical.He took up most of the fridge space too.Asshat.I pulled out a few of his bottles to make room for my bottles.

Like the army of throw pillows, the linens in the room were also beach-themed.With a beige spray of seagrass on an off-white background, the duvet and matching pillow shams also matched the drapes.The carpet, however, was actually hardwood, aside from the sea-foam-green runner at the foot of the bed.

I glanced at my watch.How long was he going to be in that fucking shower for?Until tomorrow?

He wasn’t the one covered in vomit and seawater.

Well, there was no sense waiting untilaftermy shower to start drinking.I unscrewed the cap from the Moscato I brought in.It was one of my favorites.Paired with a juicy strawberry or a piece of pineapple on a warm summer day and I was in my happy place.

I took a few long pulls off the bottle, hoping that the alcohol would settle the rage building and burning inside of me.I didn’t want to sit down anywhere because I was soaking wet and filthy.It was past quiet time at the inn, and I didn’t want to annoy Lenora any more by asking her if I could do some laundry.I’d just have to wash my clothes in the shower and hang them to dry.

I wandered around the room, drinking wine and tryingnotto imagine what Jagger might look like in the shower.I was already halfway through the bottle when the shower finally shut off.

Gathering my pajamas and toiletry bag from my small carry-on suitcase, I stood just outside the door waiting for the king of jerks to emerge.I tapped my foot for good measure.The wine was making its way through my bloodstream and dissolving the remaining fucks I had left to give about maintaining any civility with the youngest Brew Brother.

At long last, probably after six or seven years, the door opened and out he sauntered wearing nothing but a fucking towel around his waist, while a torso designed by the good Lord above remained damp and glistening.I could easily wash all my laundry on his stomach and probably get it cleaned better than the machine I had at home.

Fuck.Me.

His smirk and snort snapped me out of my Moscato-fueled fugue state, and I growled, which also served to shut my mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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