I thought about that question for a long moment before I said, “My sister’s a miserable drunk. It’s more fun to drink with her than have to listen to her sober.”
He burst out laughing, and my god, was it the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Today, Weaver was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants, a tight white t-shirt that left even less to the imagination than the gray sweatpants, and white socks.
He looked super comfortable.
And sexy.
I wanted to steal every article of clothing he was wearing and take them home. Never give them back.
Honestly, the man was devastatingly attractive in anything he wore, but right then, with his head thrown back laughing his ass off, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
This had to be what it was like when angels sang.
The laughter was over all too soon, but the mirth still shone in his eyes as he gestured to the bathroom with his chin. “Bathroom is right through there. I put some clothes out for you. They were a…friend’s.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather smell like stale beer and peanuts than wear some other woman’s clothes.”
He studied me for a long moment before shrugging, not bothering to deny that the clothes were in fact from one of his conquests.
Why did that hurt so much, knowing that he’d saved some other woman’s clothes?
I barely even knew the man…
“Suit yourself.” He paused in the mouth of the kitchen. “I have some sweatpants and a sweatshirt in there on top of the laundry basket. They’re not dirty or anything, but I try not to wear the same thing two days in a row. You can wear that.”
I refused to allow myself to feel giddy at the thought of wearing Weaver’s old clothes.
They probably smelled divine…
I shuffled to the bathroom and closed the door, at first not looking at the place around me because my eyes were barely open past slits.
Only after I used the facilities, washed my hands, and then looked at myself in the mirror did I see the decadence that I was standing in.
“Whoa.” I blinked as I stared at the marble countertops, brass fittings, and…
“You have a chandelier in your bathroom?” I couldn’t stop myself from calling out.
There was a pause in the movement outside the bathroom I was currently standing in, and then, “Long story.”
“I’ll bet,” I said as I eyed the shower.
After a few long seconds of contemplation, I decided that it would be better not to smell like peanuts and beer for however long I was going to be at Weaver’s place.
I turned the shower on hot and gasped when not one, not two, but six showerheads turned on.
“Wow,” I said as I stared at it. “This feels like I’m in an alternate reality.”
Was this how the rich half lived?
I wouldn’t know.
I’d gotten hand-me-downs from the church since I was a baby. I barely remembered a single instance where I’d gotten a new anything besides a soccer uniform. And even that was donated by the church.
Now, with my own adult money, I tended to want to pay my car payment and my mortgage.
Though Nettie was a professional soccer player, that didn’t give her much more than I made a year.
