Page 15 of Best Frenemies

My dripping hair is officially cutting a river through this condo like the Colorado through the Grand Canyon, but I don’t care. As long as my tits and bits are covered, figuring out how in thehellMack Houston ended up in my vacation rental with me seems like the priority.

I’ve always been heavy-footed, but my everyday gait’s got nothing on the thunderous sound of my progress across the hardwood floor as I burst out of the master bedroom and head toward the kitchen.

Of course, Mack just stands untroubled at the counter, his ankles crossed and a stupid smile in place on his face. Instantly, my rage spikes from an eight to an eleven.How can this man be so calm right now?

It’s only after my boiling blood rises to the whites behind my eyes that I notice the glass in his hand and the corkscrew on the counter andmybottle of now-opened wine.

No. Flipping. Way.No flipping way!

A gasp flies from my mouth. “Are you drinkingmy wine?” I shriek as months and months of saving that bottle for a special occasion flash before my eyes.

“This?” He tips his chin down to the glass in his hand and studies the liquid. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, it’s mine!” I yell, much louder than I expect. To be honest, the volume actually makes me startle myself a bit. I clear my throat to get my bearings and lower my voice back to normal. “What on earth made you think you had a right to drink it?”

“It was sitting with a welcome note,” he protests, jerking his chin toward the counter. “I assumed it was a gift with the rental.”

I follow his gaze to the note and bottle on the counter and bite my cheek to stop the evolving sting in my nose. I do not want to cry in front of Mack Houston over a bottle of wine, so help me God. But I’m on the emotional brink. I scrimped and saved and sold my soul to the devil to be able to afford this week in the first place, and now it’s one giant freaking catastrophe.

“This is unbelievable! I cannot believe this is happening!”

“Relax, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” My jaw drops. “I’ve been counting down the days to this vacation, and now I’m here and not even an hour into my getaway andyoushow up out of nowhere while I was in the shower!”

“Uh.” He scrunches up his nose. “Wow.That ‘you’ was said really distastefully, Katy Cat.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, it was,” he answers with an infuriating smirk. “It was one step away from you just saying ‘Ewww.’”

“Forget what I said.” I heave a deep sigh. “Why are you here?Howare you here? This has to be an April Fools’ joke. Clowns have to jump out of the corner at any moment now, right?” I glance around the kitchen maniacally. “I swear on everything, I’ll stab you with that corkscrew if you’ve somehow managed a stupid candid camera prank.”

“First of all, April Fools’ isn’t for another few weeks, and there are no clowns or cameras. At least, I don’t think there are.” He winks, and I hate that my eyes mistake it for sexy.Stupid, stupid blue orbs.

It doesn’t matter that he’s muscled to an eleven and bearing arms beneath his shirt in the most scandalous of ways. This is Mack Houston, and wehatehim.

I glare, but I’m not entirely sure who I’m angrier at in this moment—him or my rebelliously pulsing vagina. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I rented this place.”

“What?” My chin jerks back. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You didn’t. You couldn’t have. BecauseIrented this place. I secured the reservation several months ago.”

His face morphs into amusement, and his voice is one hundred percent confident. “So did I.”

I shake my head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Listen, I know you keep saying that over and over, but it’s not going to make it true,” he responds, still infuriatingly unfazed over the whole debacle. “I talked to Kimmie about renting her parents’ house on the beach right when we came back from Christmas break.”

“So did I,” I retort. “I confirmed the rental through RentBNB, too. Did you? Or did you just assume talking to Kimmie made it so?”

“I’m not an idiot, Katy Cat. I booked it on the website, just like you did.”

“How?” I cry.

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