Chapter 19
Lily
Saint Masters, AKA Wolfman was a wonderment of brawn, mental games, and a hefty dose of irritating charm. All wrapped in a package only matched by Greek gods. My mind drifted to images of Adonis and even that wasn’t creating the perfect picture.
Maybe that was why I loathed the man so much.
He exuded male dominance with casual flair, creating an aura of charisma that his puck bunnies found irresistible. Not this girl. I found his methods of seduction abhorrent.
Every harsh glare I’d given him during the hour I’d endured pretending I was the magical daughter-in-law who’d been swept off her feet by a caged animal had done nothing but create an ache in my jaws.
Charlotte Masters was one formidable woman. She was also someone I wouldn’t want to cross in the dark. As sweet as she’d been, I’d detected a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She’d stop at nothing to make certain her baby boy was as happy as a clam.
“I thought you might need something to sleep in since you were displaced from your apartment.” Saint’s mom handed me what appeared to be a well-worn jersey.
Unable to help myself, I unfolded it, holding the shoulders of the dense material above my shoulders.
“Plus, you stink like stale beer. No offense, honey.”
“None taken,” I told her, eyeing the faded letters and number printed on the back.
Don’t get me wrong. When I wasn’t working, I enjoying rocking a snuggly oversized jersey or sweatshirt while binge-watching several seasons of Gilmore Girls.
There was nothing more refreshing than wallowing through a day rich in pints of Ben and Jerry’s topped with Reese’s Pieces, but the jersey long enough to be a dress belonged to Saint. How did I know that?
Because it reeked of his heady amount of testosterone.
I tried to keep from making it obvious while glancing in his direction. He was leaning against the doorjamb as if fearful of being in the same room as me. Good. Little did he know at night I turned into a predatory animal.
Thoughts of the man howling brought unwanted images into my mind of the savage iceman streaking naked through the forest in search of small critters to fulfill his carnivorous appetite. Great. Now I was envisioning him acting out on his delusional wolf issues.
“St. Simon’s High?” I asked out of spite.
He took a step forward, snatching the jersey from my hand. “High school. I was the star hockey player.”
Was it possible I could roll my eyes any more than I did around him?
“Now, I know the room needs renovation. My designer is scheduled to drop by next week. You remember Ashley, don’t you, son?
” Charlotte asked as she ceremoniously pulled down the comforter on the queen-sized bed.
“She remembers you fondly, I might add. Anyway, I hired her for the job. I cannot wait to see her creative style in turning this into a dream guest bedroom.”
She tossed the two decorative pillows aside, still staring down at the bed.
I’d never felt so uncomfortable in my life. Charlotte was very sweet and while Saint’s parents were more than accommodating, I couldn’t envision sleeping in the same house as the man under any circumstances.
Which was why I continued to kick myself for suggesting we move in together. What good would come of pretending we were anything more than casual acquaintances?
“Mom. I don’t think Lily will have a problem sleeping in here tonight. I’ll head to my old room.”
I gathered the hint of exasperation in Saint’s voice.
“Oh, heavens no, Saint. Obviously, I’m no prude. I know since the two of you are engaged that you’ll want to slide between the sheets, perhaps enjoy a little nookie before you fall asleep. Your old room just won’t do.”
Ooohhh… I cracked my jaw on purpose, hoping the hint of discomfort would keep my mind from spinning in the gutter.
“That’s okay, Mom. This is your house and honey bunchkins and I will honor your rules. You know. No boys and girls sleeping in the same room.”
Did I hear more than a hint of desperation in Saint’s voice? Was he suddenly afraid of what I might do in the middle of the night? “He’s right,” I cooed. “I tend to sleepwalk at night searching for really large weapons.”
It was immediately apparent Charlotte wasn’t paying any attention to me.
“Sorry, honey. It was past time to dismantle the shrine,” Charlotte told him.
“What? You turned my old room into something else?” Saint spoke in horror.
“Honey, you are twenty-seven years old. It was past time. Don’t worry.
Both your sister’s and brother’s rooms were repurposed as well.
I saved all your trophies, although you’d need to ask your father where he stored them.
Maybe in the basement. Anyway,” she continued, clapping her hands.
“The point being the entire house is under some form of renovation. Your room was made over first.”
“Turning it into what?” Saint barked.
Giggling didn’t seem appropriate. He was upset.
“My library. I had so many books that your father decided to build me several bookcases. I think he did a fabulous job.”
“There must be a couch in the room. Right?” Saint pressed.
Charlotte nodded, giving me a sideways look as if we were just two friends commiserating over a man’s childish hold on his past.
“Yes, honey, there is. Along with my favorite reading chair. However, neither of you will be comfortable sharing the space together. Trust me. Your father and I have tried. Very… unsatisfying.”
There was no possible way of keeping the heat from crisscrossing my face.
Charlotte was a hoot where my mom was prim and proper, which was why I knew with certainty my mother wouldn’t like the idea of a Bohemian wedding.
What was I doing? Falling into the hype, the lie that we were getting married? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
I was able to bite back a laugh until I realized I was clenching the jersey tightly against my chest. While the last thing I wanted to do was to sleep in anything that belonged to him, I certainly wasn’t going to sleep naked.
“Well, then I guess we’re staying here. Together.
” In a few seconds, Saint had regrouped, eyeing me with wild eyes and increasing hunger.
He’d soon learn what a cold shower felt like even if I’d need to find some wire ties and strap him to the showerhead.
As much I appreciated the thought of enjoying a night of debauchery with a sinfully handsome ripped hockey player, it wasn’t going to happen with Saint.
Not again.
Ugh. I had a headache and its creation had nothing to do with thoughts of sex.
“Okay. There are extra towels in the adjoining bathroom. A blanket or two in the bottom drawer of the dresser, although I’m certain your body heat will keep you nice and toasty.
There’s plenty of food in the fridge, ice cream in the freezer, and I know you learned a long time ago where your father kept his booze.
” She turned toward me and I was positive she was going to hug me again based on the sheer joy stealing her entire expression.
“We’re all the way down the hall so you don’t need to worry about making any noise.
Unless of course the two of you are into hanging from light fixtures. ”
My reflex reacted before my mind and I glanced at the ceiling.
Meanwhile, Saint was cracking up at my expense. There was no hateful glare descriptive enough to convey my thoughts. They certainly couldn’t be conveyed in public. He walked closer, a grin firmly planted on his chiseled face.
If he only knew the extent I wanted to go to in order to wipe it off.
“Good night, kids. Sleep well. We’ll talk more in the morning.” With that, Charlotte left the room, closing the door behind her.
For a few seconds I honestly had no clue what to say. There were no adequate words to sum up the evening, the stunning effects of our engagement or the fact we were supposed to spend a night together in the same room.
“When are you going to tell your mother the truth?”
“And break her heart? Not a chance.” He kept a grin on his face. “So about our living conditions.” He was taunting me in return as a reminder I was a part of the scheme whether I liked it or not. “I wouldn’t mind cozying up at your apartment.”
“Not a chance.”
He snapped his fingers. “Then my place it is. We’ll get you all settled in tomorrow, honey bunchkins.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Would you prefer my sweet muffin?”
With my hand clenched into a fist, I held it in front of his face. He acted as if I’d thrown the punch, even falling on the bed with his arms splayed out. Even that little maneuver didn’t take away how handsome he was.
This was more than a nightmare.
I quickly glanced toward the open door leading to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. When I return, I hope you will have found another place to sleep in this giant house.”
“You heard my mom,” he retorted.
“Surely, there’s a vacant couch you can sleep on because I’m definitely not sleeping with you.”
“A little late for that, wouldn’t you say, Lily flower?” Did I detect some sort of strange but sensual growl laced in his words?
No way was he getting to me, at least where he’d be able to detect how unnerved I was.
I moved toward the dresser, throwing open the bottom drawer.
After snatching a blanket, I grabbed one pillow off the bed, tossing both in his direction.
With no other choice but to wear the jersey, I tossed my hair across my back, grabbed my purse, and stormed toward the bathroom, instantly closing the door behind me.
Tantrums couldn’t occur, at least not while his parents were being so nice as to allow us to stay here. I shoved the shirt over the towel rack, glaring at myself in the mirror. Right now, I not only hated my reflection, I hated everything I’d portrayed myself to be.
In front of millions of people.