Though deep in my heart, I already know what my answer will be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The evil twin
Jordie
I drag my carcass from the bed at the ass-crack of dawn and head into the lavish bathroom. The room is done in comforting shades of blue with an enormous mirror over double sinks. I stare at my reflection.
There’s no hope for my hair. It’s a complete wreck, like a bird’s nest… if the bird was high on cocaine and blind in her left eye. My lips are still swollen from Phoenix’s kisses, and my fingertips drift over the puffiness as I recall last night’s events.
“Jesus,” I groan aloud. “Did I really proposition Phoenix Hale like he’s some kind of stud horse?” My wild reflection stares back, mocking me silently.
Yes, I definitely did that. Then—oh god—I felt him up and called himtripod. Tripod! Seriously? But in my defense, that was one long dong… which I then proceeded to use to rub one out. And I’m fairly certain I left a wet spot on his crotch.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Should I offer to cover his dry cleaning bill for his suit pants?
I drop my head to the dark-blue marble vanity with a thunk, considering banging it a few more times for good measure. Maybe if I give myself a concussion, I can retroactively blame it for my behavior last night.
Pulling my head up, I grab a couple aspirin from my toiletries case and swallow them with water from the sink to help with my slight hangover headache. Then I hop in the shower and attempt to wash away my humiliation with the hotel’s fancy body wash.
As I’m riding the elevator down, I study my phone, reading through my workout plan. My trainer, Diesel, wants me to do cardio before weights today. When the doors open on the second floor, I step out and locate the sign pointing toward the gym. The pool is also on this floor, and the pungent odor of chlorine fills my nostrils as I open the gym’s glass door, my eyes once again cast down to my phone.
Cubbies line the wall beside me, and I stuff my gym bag in one and sit on a bench to retie my shoes—custom black-and-purple Jordie McNamara sneakers, thank you very much. Then I stand and turn to the row of treadmills… and freeze.
He may not be wearing one of his suits—or pink bunny pajamas—but I’d recognize Phoenix Hale anywhere, even from behind.Especiallyfrom behind. The man has an ass that would stop traffic. It has enough plumpness to put it directly in the cake category.
I realize I’m staring at said cake beneath the light-gray athletic shorts he’s wearing and jerk my gaze upward, determined to get the hell out of here before he sees me. Maybe I can sneak into the gym at the hotel across the street for my workout.
But it’s too late. Our eyes collide in the mirror in front of him like two runaway trains. He acknowledges me with a jerk of his chin, and then he tilts his head to the side to indicate the treadmill to his right is free.
Super. So excited about this little turn of events.But I straighten my slightly damp ponytail and grab my Stanley cup, striding over with my chin held high. I’m Jordie fucking McNamara, dammit, dick humper extraordinaire, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
“Good morning,” I say, setting my cup in the holder as I step up onto the textured black belt.
“Morning.” His voice is deep and quiet, like it’s holding some secret knowledge. And I guess it is. He knows what I look like when I come.
Mortification prickles at the base of my neck, but I ignore it and turn on my machine, beginning with a nice jog to warm up. He’s going at the same pace, and our feet find fall into rhythm, hitting our respective belts in tandem.
After a while, during which our eyes meet no less than five times in the mirror, I finally break the silence. “Is there any chance you’re suffering from short-term amnesia this morning?”
His full lips twitch at one corner. “Nope. My memory is just fine.”
I nod. “I’m not sure if you realize, but I have an evil twin who sometimes likes to pretend to be me and do very embarrassing stuff.”
The other corner of his mouth tics. “Really? That’s fascinating. I had no idea you were a twin too.”
“Yeppers. I woke up this morning stuffed in a closet with no recollection of last night, so I’m assuming she drugged me and took my place for the evening.”
Blue eyes twinkle with mirth in the mirror. “That’s horrible, Jordie. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
I wave a nonchalant hand. “I’m used to it by now. One time in first grade, Morticia—that’s my evil twin’s name—passed gas right in the middle of coloring time and blamed it on me. She’s a horrible person.”
“Huh,” he says thoughtfully, lips twisting to the side. “You know all that troublemaking stuff I told you about earlier from when I was a kid? That wasn’t me. It was actually my evil twin, Helix.”
A grin slides across my lips. “So you understand what I’m going through.”
