“Rupert, open up,” I shout, pounding some more. “I know you’re in there.”
After a few more seconds, the locks sound off and then his face appears, his blond hair rumpled and his face coated in a five-o’clock shadow.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I push through the door, only to come face-to-face with his overnight guest wearing absolutely nothing.
Quickly, I shield my eyes and turn away. “Christ, I need to talk to you.”
“Who, me? Or Christ? Because the way you worded that, it comes off very confusing?—”
“You, you fucking numbskull.”
He rubs his cheek, his fingers scraping over his scruff as he ponders my request. “Well, I was just about to go down on Sarah, so can this wait?”
I flash a murderous gaze at him thatsuggestsSarah can wait.
Lucky for him, he gets the hint.
“You know what, love, why don’t you go wait for me upstairs, maybe stick my headphones on and listen to some smooth jazz, get you in the mood.”
“I have to get to work anyway,” I hear Sarah say, and then her footsteps trail away.
Nostrils flared, Rupert turns to me and says, “This better be good.”
I grab him by the robe and push him toward his living room, sit on the couch, then pull my phone from my pocket and start typing away.
“Did you realize your trousers are inside out?” he asks.
“Does it seem like I care?”
“No, but you should. You went out in public.”
I find the article my dad showed me and then I turn it toward him. Rupert moves in closer, his eyes focusing, and then he smiles. “Oh shit, that’s?—”
“Do not say funny,” I say through clenched teeth. “There is nothing funny about this.”
“Why not? We specifically said American profiles only to avoid being caught here in the U.K. and then, they find you anyway. That’s some pretty good sleuthing. Also, did you know you have lipstick on your face?”
For fuck’s sake!
“This is not funny, Rupert. This is the opposite of funny. There’s actually nothing funny about this, because my father found the article.”
He cringes. “Oof. Yeah, that’s not good.” He pauses and then panic washes over his expression. “Did he see what I drew on his portrait?”
“No!” I drag my hand down my face as Rupert presses his hand to his chest.
“Thank Jesus. I like my dick, and I know he’d cut it off if he found out.”
“Can we please focus on me? This is terrible.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to focus on me for a second, but sure, let’s bring this back to you. Why is this bad?”
Looking my friend in the eyes, I say, “Because I told him that I was actually looking for a bride.”
Rupert’s mouth falls slightly ajar just as Sarah walks back into the living room.
“I’m taking off.”
