I smirked, going for nonchalance as my heart beat out of my chest. “Yeah, I mean, I appreciate that it’s hard to tell, but how else do you explain why I’m backed up against your hotel room door?”
Suspicion flashed in Isha’s already black gaze. He reclaimed his phone and glanced between me and the screen, clearly comparing fully dressed me and my clichéd profile pic.
Irritated, I pushed off the door, stepping into his personal space. “Listen, if you want to be certain that’s really me, all you gotta do is take a proper look.”
I shrugged out of my jacket, letting it fall dramatically to the floor, and gripped the hem of my T-shirt. It went the same way as my jacket, and I stood bare-chested in front of Isha and jabbed a finger at the tiny dragon breathing fire onto my appendix scar. “Unless you think I painted this on to impersonate someone, you can’t argue that I am who I say I am. And even if I wasn’t, you messaged me, remember? If anyone’s being set-up, it’s me.”
Isha didn’t blink for the entire length of my tirade. Just stared, gaze flickering over me, as though he was trying to peer under my skin to see if I was worth looking at. When I was done, he took a step back, expression unmoved.
Fuck this. I bent to retrieve my clothes. I’d come here to get sweaty and naked, not to convince some uptight closet case that I was legit enough to bother with. And that was without considering the fact that he was the parent of a kid I had booked in for a goddamn birthday party. How was this my life? It beggared belief, and I was hardcore regretting the tenner I’d spent getting here.
“Wait.”
“Excuse me?” I straightened, T-shirt dangling from my fingers.
“I said, wait.” Isha retracted his backwards step. Suddenly we were closer than we’d been in the spider cave in my shop. “Look, this is fucking weird, okay? You caught me off guard. Trust me when I say you were the last person I was expecting on the other side of that door.”
“Right back at you.” I started to put my T-shirt on. Isha closed his hand around my arm, stilling me without saying a word.
For a moment, I froze, then I squirmed out of his grip. “Regardless, this is totally fucked up. If you want your money back for the party, I can refund you from my phone right now.”
“I don’t want my money back.”
Relief rushed through me. Birthday parties didn’t make a mint, but I couldn’t afford to let a hundred quid go easily, especially when I was up to my eyeballs in rescue animals too poorly or grumpy to sell.
I started to put my T-shirt on again.
Again, Isha stopped me. “I don’t want my money back, and I realise this is totally inappropriate, but life’s like that sometimes. And you came all the way here…”
I cocked an eyebrow as he trailed off. “Are you suggesting we hook up anyway?”
Isha’s gaze raked over me. “Yes, Jude. That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
Three
Isha
I’d lost my fucking mind. There was no other rational explanation for why I was throwing myself at a surly bloke who clearly thought I was a bit of wanker. But goddamn if I didn’t give a shit. Fact was, Jude had lit something in me I couldn’t ignore, and words spilled out before I could check them. “We can forget everything else,” I pressed. “Just for tonight. After all, it’s not like the worst hasn’t happened already. What difference does it make if we finish the game?”
“Game?”
“Turn of phrase. Don’t get shitty.”
“Wow.” Jude rolled his eyes, but seemed to have lost interest in covering his gorgeous body.
I took it as a win and edged a little closer. “Sorry, I’m too direct sometimes. I don’t mean to be rude.”
“I came here to get rude, mate.”
“Did you? How rude?”
Jude flushed, a legit beautiful blush that stained his pale skin. “As rude as it gets, but I don’t know if I’m down with your masterplan. It sounds complicated.”
“Not really.” I fought to focus on Jude’s face. “We’ll have to face each other at the party knowing we’ve had this conversation anyway. Why not claim the prize, too?”
Jude leaned back on the door. He had bright, intelligent eyes, though they were hooded, lids dipped low as he considered my offer.
I wondered if he felt as out of control as I did. It was hard to tell by looking at him. He was breathing hard, and glaring, but that could’ve been because he didn’t like me.
