Chapter 4

"If I'm done first, then I get to go home tonight, regardless of how much you drink."

"And if I win?"

She shrugged as though the answer were obvious. "Then I stay here."

"I'm getting the short end of this stick. You already agreed to stay here."

"Then what do you want?" Her brows dipped in the center and created a crease above her nose. She turned the shower on, waiting for me to answer. Cheating was clearly part of her plan.

"For you to dance with me at the wedding tomorrow." Not a clue where that request came from. I can't dance for shit.

"You can't dance. Pick something else." She unlaced her work boots, pulled each one off her feet, and dropped them with a thud on the tiles, gaining further ground in this race.

"Nope. That's what I want." I was being set up. She'd be in the shower before I reached my bedroom. My only saving grace would be her mounds of hair that she'd have to wash and dry...since it smelled like grease and likely had a good bit in it.

"Fine." She pushed me out, slammed the door, and I took off.

I didn't wait for the water to heat up. After I stripped my clothes off, I jumped under the spray and hissed with the chill that prickled my skin. It took the hot water longer to reach the back of the house, but I couldn't waste time.

Beau had made a point-more than once-to tell me how much it meant to Felicity for my hands not to look like I'd worked on cars in the parking lot of the church, so I needed extra time to scrub them. It was a hopeless cause. The cuticles were stained from years of manual labor in a machine shop, but I tried all the same. And then I washed my hair three times in an attempt to remove the stench I knew lingered there, and I scrubbed my skin as if peeling off the top layer might make me more presentable.

I wasn't a bad-looking guy. In fact, most girls seemed to think I was fairly attractive. Picking women up hadn't ever taken much effort; I just never wanted to hold on to them. They simply weren't what kept my interest. Working out kept me in solid shape, running kept me lean, and I was blessed with a nice physique. I ate like a horse and played as hard as I worked. Beer flowed like sweet tea on the weekends, and I didn't have anyone to answer to.

Other than Masyn.

The mere thought of her woke parts of me that needed to go back to sleep-if I had any hope of winning this bet. I didn't have time to rub one out while thinking of the little spitfire in my other bathroom. Images of her naked body danced through my mind, and my dick twitched. I'd never seen her completely bare, but she'd worn some swimsuits that didn't leave much to the imagination. That was the beauty of an in-ground pool in my backyard. She loved the sun and the water...she also loved the privacy my fence provided.

Stop. Stop. Stop. I chastised myself and forced my thoughts toward lizards and nuns.

When I turned off the water, I listened closely and couldn't hear anything...including the sound of the shower down the hall. Quickly wiping away the water, I then wrapped myself in a towel and peeked my head out of my bedroom door. The hair dryer down the hall came to life, and I grinned knowing I had this in the bag. I still had to shave and put on church clothes, but Masyn would spend a minimum of thirty minutes drying that mess of hair. If she straightened it, I could add another fifteen minutes to that. And if she planned to curl it, we'd be late.

I stepped back into my room and left the door open so I could keep track of her progress. The towel still hung loosely on my hips when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I'd gotten a little more hair on my chest over the last couple of years, and the trail from my belly button to my dick was now clearly defined. It had taken nearly two years out of high school for me to fill out, but I wasn't the boy I remembered seeing for so long. The roughness of my jaw against my palm dictated shaving. I'd hoped the five o'clock shadow hadn't emerged and I could skip this step. I'd never had a hard time growing out a beard in a day or two, so bypassing the razor was not an option, or else I risked unleashing the wrath of Felicity.

There was something about the sound of a blade on coarse hair that was almost hypnotic. With each swipe, my eyes focused on the skin to avoid cutting myself. In no time, my face was baby smooth. And I stared into my own green eyes wondering what Masyn saw when she looked at me. Since she never dated, I didn't have a clue what she looked for. She may hate blonds, which would eliminate me. Or it was possible that she liked thin intellectuals-although, not likely-which would put me at the back of the pack entirely. The only thing I had to base her taste on was her relationship with Alex, and he certainly wasn't the gold standard by which to assess her preference.

The blow dryer stopped. There was no way she'd finished with her hair unless I'd been staring at myself for the better part of twenty minutes. Without further hesitation, I slapped aftershave on, spritzed some cologne and walked through it, and crossed to my closet to find something suitable to wear. I no sooner had on a white dress shirt and grey slacks-unbuttoned, untucked, and unzipped-than a knock came at my open door.

Holy mother of God. She was breathtaking. Not to mention totally uninterested. Her breath didn't hitch. Her pupils didn't dilate. Her nostrils didn't even so much as flare at the sight of my bare chest. Nevertheless, my body let loose with all three of those embarrassing actions while I gawked at her.

"Can you zip me up?" Masyn grabbed her hair with one hand, held the front of her dress with the other, and turned her back to me.

I rarely saw her in anything other than Dickies at work or jeans on the weekends. Occasionally, she blessed me with shorts or a swimsuit, just never a dress. It took everything I had in me not to run my fingers down her exposed spine and kiss her bare neck. Instead, I did as she asked and raised the zipper, praying I didn't pitch a tent standing there. I held my breath until she turned, uttered a quiet "thank you," and walked out the door.

If I were more of a gentleman, I'd let her win and allow her to drive my truck home tonight. However, I was far too competitive, and I enjoyed waking up with Masyn Porter in my house too much to concede without a fight. Three minutes later, I leaned against her bathroom door and watched her finish dabbing and brushing on her makeup.

"I hate you," she groaned.

"You love me."

"There's a fine line between the two."

"You ready?"

She glared at me in response, acknowledging my win. After she slathered shiny crap on her lips, she turned toward me. "How do I look?"

"Like a girl," I chided just to get her goat. Then I pressed my lips to her forehead and grabbed her hand to tug her out the door.