Page 5 of The Worst Guy Ever
“You know, Hattie, I’m pretty sure we’ll end up together at some point,” he said, his voice low, for my ears only.The utter pig.What a revolting thought.
“You’re not my type.”
“I don’t think you have a type,” he said, leaning in closely.
“Yes, I do.Notarrogant. You don’t fit the bill.”
“I happen to think arrogance is a superpower in bed.”
I could tell, even just from the warmth of him sitting next to me, the spicy cedar scent of his skin, that he would be good in bed. I wouldn’t necessarily call it arrogance, but, in my experience, confidence is the one thing that elevates a hook-up from average to unforgettable. This guy had buckets of it, but so did I.
“If anyone’s the arrogant one, it’s me. I get in, get what I want, get out as fast as I can.”
“How romantic.”
“There is not a romantic bone in my body,” I replied, deadpan, in an attempt to feign nonchalance and boredom despite the heat blooming in my belly.
He leaned in close, a hungry look in his eye that made me think I was about to get bitten right there in Luke’s garden. “Would you like my romantic bone in your body?”
I screamed, and he sat back, snorting out a laugh as he stretched his arms along the sofa cushions. Before I ended up laughing at his stupid childish goading too, I thanked Luke and Kara, made my apologies, and told Megan to get an Uber home on my account.
It goes without saying that Rob Morgan did not make a good first impression. And would you believe it? He’s only gotten worse.
Chapter 1
Hattie
“Well,ifitisn’tmy favourite ice queen.”
“Oh shit,” I scowl, turning to Megan who is standing by my side on Luke’s doorstep. “We’ve come to the wrong house, we must leave immediately.”
“They’re ten minutes away,” Rob says. “Come in and let me look after you.”
There are three things I hate about the man standing before me. One, he’s an arrogant bastard. Two, he knows exactly how to push my buttons and takes great delight in doing it often. And three, he always smells incredible.
I’ve hated him since the day we met and you don’t have to be some sodding psychologist to understand why. He’s basically the male version of me: cocky, arrogant, and a serial bachelor. Of course, people would never describe me that way because I’m a woman. I’d be called feisty, hysterical, a drama queen, and a slut. If opposites attract, our similarities explain why I find him so repulsive.
Since our friends introduced us, I’ve had the misfortune of spending far more time in his company than I’d have liked: dinners, BBQs, and brunches that I scowl my way through. I try to get out of it when I can, but today is Luke’s Granny Annie’s birthday, and he and Kara are hosting a surprise lunch at their house to celebrate. That’s not the sort of invite you turn down.
Kara officially moved in with Luke earlier this month, having sold the house she renovated for a tidy profit, and finally severing ties with her awful ex. I see she’s already sprinkling her interiors magic with a new door knocker in the shape of an otter.
“Megan, you look stunning, as always,” Rob says, as she crosses the threshold into enemy territory.
“Well, you look like shit,” I say. “Whose bed did you crawl out of?”
“Hey, that hurts.” He helps me out of my coat, stroking his thumbs down my arms in an unnecessary move that still sends a whisper of a shiver up my spine. “I got my full eight hours of beauty sleep and slept alone.”
“Pathetic.”
“You didn’t?”
“On a Saturday night?” I laugh. “No, I absolutely did not sleep alone, thank you very much.” Megan laughs, knowing full well we spent the night eating ice-cream and watching the latest action rom-com in the matching pyjamas we accidentally bought each other for Christmas. I glare at her and she takes the hint to keep that to ourselves.
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Ah, so you didn’t know his name?”
