Chapter Four
. . .
I burned my ass
My face snaps to my sister’s. “Ohhh my god. Moon. That’s them. Moon—”
“Who’s them?”
It’s as if they know I’m talking about them because Wells waves in our direction. This is not happening.
“The guys from the shower,” I hiss, trying to keep my face neutral. “They’re with hot guy.”
“Who guy?”
I glance over again to see them getting closer, and my pulse quickens to a hummingbird’s pace.
“The two guys I watched when I was impersonating Joe from You are with Wells. The guy you sent to my room.”
She finally follows my line of sight before choking on her champagne.
“Wait a minute…” She coughs, patting her mouth with the back of her hand. “You were spying on Brody and Brooks?”
My brows shoot up. “Why are you saying their names like you know them?”
“Because I do know them.”
What is she talking about? I can feel my head shaking, but nothing comes out. Jesus Christ, they’re getting closer.
Moon’s name is called out, and it makes me wince.
“Why are you freaking out?” she asks, staring at me, confused. “What’s the big deal?”
“Have you forgotten?” I whisper sharply, trying to gather my things. “Wells knows I’m a perv, and now he’s walking up with the objects of my perversion.” I drop my room key, picking it up again. “I have to go. I’m leaving.”
I don’t give her time to answer because they’re now about twenty feet away. So I need to scurry, to jet, to get the hell out of Dodge. Because I cannot look these men in their eyes. I can’t do it.
“Margot, wait—” she rushes out, but I’m already on my feet, tying my sarong around my waist until she adds, “Shit. Ice packs!”
I swing back around, my eyes landing on the two mostly melted ice packs still sitting on the lounge chair where my ass was.
Without hesitation, we both scramble to grab them. Hers is tossed into a hedge, but mine stays in my hand as my face swings around, looking for a spot.
“Moon” is yelled again, and for a brief moment, I consider hiding under my lounger.
“Hey, guys,” she calls out, waving, and thankfully taking any attention away from me.
Still, dropping to the ground would be too obvious, so I do the next best thing since she’s bought me about two seconds. But it’s one more than I need because I toss my ass bag into some random woman’s purse.
Dear stranger, I am sorry for your things. But sacrifices needed to be made.
“Bye,” I hiss, not bothering to look up or at my sister.
I begin to make my getaway, but it’s the worst possible decision I could make because the long tie dangling down from my silk sarong catches the arm of the lounge chair. It only takes two steps before that fabric tears straight off my body, leaving my blushed derrière exposed.
Oh god. Noooooo.
My heart is in my throat, my breath frozen still before I squeal, and my hands shoot behind me to cover my bright red cheeks.
This could not get any worse.
But it does, because two awful things happen at the same time.
I hear, “That’s Margot” and “Damn, girl, what are you into?”
What am I into? What am I into? Apparently humiliation.
My sister laughs, but I’m stuck in place, my back to them, my eyes squeezed closed as the same thought plays on repeat: Please let this be a fever dream.
“Margot,” Moon whispers, coaxing me to turn around, but my name’s drowned out by a familiar chuckle.
“We have to stop meeting this way,” Wells teases.
He means me showing my ass.
Fuck.
A small whine leaves me before I relax my face and blow out a deep breath, and slowly turn around to face the music.
Music is a generous term. It’s really the same song.
I think it’s called “This day can go to hell.” By: My pride.
My hands stay in place as I bravely lift my eyes to the three formidably sized lookers smiling back at me. Why do they have to be so good-looking? Whyyyy?
“Guys, this is my sister, Margot…but you already know that.”
Yes, they know who I am because Wells has already warned them about the predator on the property.
I don’t know if I frown, or smile, or what, because I’m trying like hell to disassociate.
Wells crosses his arms, accentuating his muscles. I like it, but I’m trying not to stare at him until he says, “How was your movie?”
Now I smile, but not the bright, full-of-life kind. It’s more goofy and sheepish. Because I’m mortified.
I’m standing here with my hands behind my back, sans cover-up, in front of three men half my age, who I’ve either been a Peeping Tom to or made a complete fool of myself in front of.
This is rock bottom. This is hell.
“Nice suit,” he adds.
What? My eyes lock with Wells’ before his eyes dip down my frame, then back up.
Oh. My brain feels scrambled. He just checked me out. Or maybe he’s checking for wounds since the last time we met, when I was tangled up in a fucking tree.
Still, it’s enough to impair all my functioning brain cells because heat starts to crawl up my neck.
My sister’s right. I do have an affliction.
“I…um…” I whisper, unable to string anything coherent together.
Not that I get a real chance because the blond from the shower duo steps forward, nabbing my attention. The one I called Balboner. He’s got a smirk that’s oscillating between on and dirty.
God, he’s even hotter up close.
Blondie glances at Wells as he speaks. “You didn’t do her justice.”
My eyes spring open. How was I described? Wait, they talked about me?
The smile trying to grow on my face only gets to smirk level before it dies as the reality of my thought sinks in.
Duh, they talked about you. He told them your dirty little secret. And probably about the hair cream.
“Brooks,” Blondie says as an introduction of himself, but I say nothing, just stare wide-eyed back into his libido-enhancing blue eyes.
He knows I watched him. And that I have a hairy ass.
Brooks steps in closer. That’s when I notice he’s holding his hand out for me to shake. But before I can redirect, he reaches out, his fingertips dragging from my elbow to my wrist in one quick motion, and tugs my arm out from behind me.
“Don’t make me beg for your attention…or do,” he teases with a wink.
To say I have goose bumps from my hips to my thighs is an understatement because when he grabbed my wrist, he brushed my bare bottom. Coupled with the fact that he just told me to make him beg. I will now die if anyone ever finds out how warm that made my stomach.
My eyes dart to where he’s touching me, but it leads my gaze right back to his because he’s lifting my hand to his lips before he presses a kiss to it, then says, “Wells said you’re pretty. But you’re a stunner. I’m gonna call you mine, ’kay?”
I have no idea what my face is doing, but I do know that my mouth is still not working.
All I make out is “Thank…”
What the hell is thank? Thank god? Thanksgiving? What is wrong with me?
Before I can linger on that thought, another catches up—Did he just say, “I’m gonna call you mine?”
I give my head a little shake. I’m acting like I’ve never seen an attractive man before. I need to snap out of it. I also need to be more specific when asking the universe for favors because this is not what I meant by getting fucked.
I meant sex, not the ability to transform into the most preposterous woman in front of hot men.
I huff out a breath, trying to catch up with my pulse until my shoulders jump again because we suddenly collectively hear, “What the hell?”
All our faces turn to see a woman holding a water-filled Ziploc bag, or mostly water-filled because as she’s pulling it out of her purse, the water is spilling out.
My eyes meet Moon’s as we stare at each other with equal amounts of panic. Well, maybe I’m the only one panicking because she’s quietly laughing as she looks down.
Oh god. Am I sweating? If I had a blood pressure problem, I’d be dead because my heart is racing faster than Lando Norris, and butterflies knock around in my stomach like they’re at a punk rock concert.
Moon looks up at me, but my gaze volleys between her and the guys. Because it suddenly feels like everyone is looking at me.
I swear it’s like everyone around knows what I did, and I can feel the words bubbling just under the surface of my tongue.
Oh, I’m about to make a fool of myself.
Again.
There’s no stopping it. This crazy train is solidly off its track.
Everything happens in slow motion. The woman with my ass bag says, “Who did this?” as all the guys look at me, and my brows shoot to my hairline as Moon shakes her head at me, seeing disaster ahead.
But that’s when I go full life sabotage. It’s not enough to live a life of cringe. My mouth truly wants a gold medal for loose lips sinking life’s ships.
Because I blurt out, “I burned my ass.”
I hear it. I do. It’s heard.
Brooks’ mouth drops open with a single chuckle as Wells tries to hide his smile. As for my sister, she drops back on the lounger with her hands over her face.
I shake my head. “It’s, um…it was an accident, but I needed the ice… It must’ve fallen into that woman’s…”
My words trail off. The silence is killing me. Dead. I can feel my mind becoming that Homer Simpson meme, slowly stepping back from reality into the hedges of denial.
Of all the things in the world to say, that’s what I chose?
But just before it feels unbearable, Brooks tilts his head, and I’m snapped back into reality. “The sun’s a real killer. But if you need someone to kiss it better—”
A shocked giggle escapes me, and then my shoulders jump because a strong hand on Brooks’ shoulder yanks him backward.
Brooks just laughs, and so does Wells, as the Keanu dupe from earlier steps forward in front of them.
I’m, yet again, faced with the kind of perfection that leaves my body tingling.
Jesus, it should be illegal for them to travel in a pack. Isn’t every friend group supposed to have an ugly friend? Please, god, let me meet that guy because I can’t take this.
“Sorry about him,” he growls out.
I blink momentarily, noticing that the person I’m thinking is Brody has two different-colored eyes. One blue, one green.
“Oh, let him flirt, Brody,” my sister drawls out. “She could use it.”
I was correct. Still, I level a scowl at her, but she wags her brows at me and shrugs. “What? You could.”
I’ll kill her. However, the one silver lining is that her bullshit pulls me back into my body, and I stop acting so socially awkward.
“Sorry about her,” I offer, looking back at Brody. “She always makes everything weird.”
“Do not,” Moon pipes up. “You could. You’re out of practice—”
I wave her off, almost smacking her as I cut in, “Let’s start again. I’m Margot. The older…more responsible member of our family. It’s nice to meet you guys.”
I don’t know why I put emphasis on older. But I do.
Brody’s eyes dip to my lips, then back to my eyes. “We’ve heard all about you. Your sister loves to yap.”
The way he says “yap” makes me chuckle and not dwell on the fact that he said “all about you.” Because let’s hope not all. Moon actually never shuts up, so that’s a real possibility.
However, I do note that he didn’t say he knew me from Wells. So maybe my little secret will stay a secret.
“She lies a lot, so…” I offer a smile at the end, but he doesn’t reciprocate.
He just stares into my eyes. Like a coward, I glance at my sister, who’s watching us with rapt attention. When I look back at him, I bite my bottom lip because the way Brody’s staring at me makes me self-conscious. He’s a little intense.
Nobody says anything for a beat, so I’m about to interject and say I need to head up to my room, but Brody beats me to the punch.
It’s only two words, but they’re said as a direction, not a request.
“Come on.”
I don’t even realize he’s speaking to me until my hand is grabbed and I’m spun around, pulled behind this hulk of a man.
What is happening? My free hand shoots behind me again.
“Wait…what…where are we—” I blurt, looking back over my shoulder at my sister, who looks totally amused by my kidnapping, as do the other two.
“Hi. Excuse me,” I say louder, turning my attention back to him as I’m dragged behind him.
But I’m unprepared for Brody’s full attention because my feet stumble when he stops abruptly by a set of glass French doors that lead into the house.
I swallow, trying not to fixate on the fact that he’s beautiful.
“Where…” I trail off, losing the battle of speech with my mind.
He finishes for me. “To the kitchen.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’m not feeding you… I have aloe.”
My eyes pop open because I realize he’s taking me inside to treat my sunburn. The lie of my sunburn.
“Oh, I’m fine… I can take care of it myself—”
“No.”
That’s all he says. One word before we’re walking inside.
On the upside, after this, I can put my behind behind me.