Now,thatis hilarious.
She mocks a smile in return. “I’ll give you half the bed if you do. But you won’t.”
I yank my head back and raise both eyebrows. Did she just challenge me? Psh. Tell me what I can’t do and I’ll prove the world wrong. “You’re on, honeybuns.”
Another whistle blows behind us. Two women walk off hand in hand, and the crowd goes wild at their celebratory kiss.
“Watch me and weep,” I tell Basil.
She takes two steps back and tilts her head, a sly grin slowly forming across her face. Then it hits me.
Wait a minute.
What did I just agree to? Did she just pull some re-reverse psychology on me or something? Damn it. She’s good.
Suddenly, it feels like the entire island is watching me. I refuse to sit here and look like a bigger idiot than I already feel. I glance at the timer sitting on the table, mustering up any remaining pride, and reach for the screwdriver.
Next thing I know, there are less than three minutes left. It’s a miracle I’m still in the running to advance to the next round.
My faux wife flashes a thumbs-up at me, then returns to the task at hand. Standing there. Watching the others, arms folded, feet not moving an inch.
The announcer states the obvious. This is coming down to the wire.
“You might want to hurry,” Basil says and points to the couple in front of us. “They’re almost finished.”
I bolt to my feet. “I’m done, I’m done. I just need the—” I rush toward the cardboard box, flip it upside down and dig through styrofoam, sheets of plastic flying everywhere. “Where the hell is it?”
“Lose something?” She walks closer. “Do you want my help?”
“No. I got it.” I drop to my knees and frantically push the sand around.
“You sure?” she adds when we lock eyes briefly, fighting the grin teasing the corner of her mouth. “What are you looking for?”
I grunt in frustration. “The stupid whistle. I can’t find—”
A loud shrill echoes through the air, followed by an explosion of cheers.
* * *
I stepinto the room and place my bag on the chair. I’m exhausted and will probably be discovering sand in places it shouldn't be for days after my shower. I look down at my shorts and T-shirt. It’s not like I’m sleeping naked or anything. I sit on the side of the bed closest to the door.
The shower cuts off, and ten minutes later, Basil steps into the bedroom. My chest tightens, and my eyes redirect to every spot inside the room except her body. My gaze points to the floor. Does she seriously expect me to sleep with her looking likethat?
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Going to bed.”
“Wearing that?” Dealing with the woman’s sass is one thing, but being in the same room while black and pink lace cover her breasts is a different type of torture.
A whiff of rose-oil body wash fills my nose as she passes me en route to her side of the bed, facing the sliding doors. I silently watch her shove pillow after pillow onto the bed, forming a wall down the middle. I can’t redact my victory now, especially that she’s tossed me the whistleandis still holding up her end of the bet. Kindness looks good on her.
Her brow crinkles when our eyes hold, a tiny smirk on her lips. “What? Haven’t seen a woman in sleepwear before?”
I bite back my smartass response and choose different words. “So, we're just going to pretend you aren’t sleeping in lingerie. With a total stranger?”
“We’re hardly strangers. You’ve had your tongue in my—”
“I mean, we don’t know much about each other.” Actually, she knows nothing about me.
