Page 83 of Seale the Deal

I wasn’t going to say anything, but…

Remi shoots me a playful glare. I chuckle.

Is the bathroom nice? she asks, returning to her search. Aha! She pulls out a Ziploc bag filled with travel-size bottles.

It’s more than nice. You should see the bathtub.

She raises a brow and crosses the room. A second later, she gasps loudly.

Oh my God, I’m definitely having a bath tonight. She rushes back and starts gathering everything she needs.

I think I’m going to go talk to your brother, I say.

Remi pauses. Why?

Yeah. Why?

Well, you have some writing to do, so I figure we could chat about what we’re going to get up to while you do that.

She seems to consider this for a moment, then nods slowly. Okay. Just don’t let him take you hiking. He’ll swear it’s a beginner’s trail, and before you know it, you’re walking along a narrow path with crevasses on either side, praying you don’t die.

Did that happen to you?

More than once, she says. I’ll knock on his door if you’re not back by the time I’m done making love to that tub.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I think about seeing Ruger. I’m not sure if it’s nerves or something else entirely.

And I’ll finally use the skills I learned in D.A.R.E if hiking is mentioned, I say, hoping the joke distracts Remi from any thoughts that I’m as excited to see Ruger as I am. Even though I just saw him like ten minutes ago.

What’s that?

Canada’s failed just-say-no-to-drugs program.

Ah, yeah, we had that too, Remi says. Except ours came with Nancy Reagan.

Fun, I say.

Remi smiles brightly, then heads for the bathroom while I slip out into the hall.

Ruger’s room is directly across from ours. I knock, heart fluttering with the hope he hasn’t gone to bed. The sound of the chain lock sliding free sends both relief and a fresh wave of butterflies through me. When the door opens, I choke on a breath.

I—um—

It’s hard not to stare at the V-cut of his abs since they point straight to something a fake fiancée should definitely not be thinking about. Warmth blooms low in my belly. I always knew Ruger had a good body—he doesn’t exactly wear baggy clothes—but seeing it in the flesh is a whole other thing.

And damn.

I want to reach out and trace the slab of muscle that is his chest. I want to see if his shoulders are as solid as they look. I want—

Are you okay? he asks. You’ve been standing there staring awhile.

I laugh a little too shrilly. Staring? No! Just… admiring a body that’s clearly lifted heavy things… and then put them back down… and followed the label instructions… you know… rinse, lather, and repeat.

He gives me a look like I’ve lost it.

You have a nice body. It’s just an observation. Totally objective. Anyone can see it. I know it takes a lot to look like— I gesture up and down his body.

Ruger raises a brow.