“Oh.” I smile. Me, too, but I’m holding my cards close to my chest until I know if I like the people. “Sounds great.”
The door bursts open, and that guy walks back in. He’s completely naked and holding a tea towel over his junk. “Hi,” he says casually, as if he does this every day. He bends and begins to get clothes out of his backpack. Totally unfazed.
“Hi.” I swallow the lump in my throat. His face is better than his dick . . . and trust me, the dick is good.
“I’m Hayden,” I introduce myself.
He stands up, and with one hand strategically covering his junk, he holds his other hand out to shake mine. “Hi, Hayden.” He gives me a breathtaking smile. “I’m Christopher.”
Oh . . .
“Excuse the lack of clothes, some fuckwit just vomited all over me.”
My eyes widen. “It must be the day for it. I just saw a cabdriver getting vomited on on the way here.”
“Yeah.” He goes back to his bag and begins to rustle around in it. “That was me, and now I have to go back to that damn cab and drive it all afternoon. I can think of nothing worse.” He passes a bottle of deodorant to Basil. “Put it on,” he demands.
“What did I tell you about poisoning my body,” Basil huffs.
“Listen, fucker. While you are sleeping in a room with me, you will smell like a human. Put. It. On.”
I suddenly feel really uncomfortable. Poor Basil, how embarrassing for him. They must be friends.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Who does this guy think he is? “Do you two know each other?” I ask.
“Just met.” Basil rolls his eyes.
My blood boils, I feel so bad for Basil. “Firstly,” I snap, “put some clothes on. Secondly, stop being so damn rude.”
Hot guy’s eyes flick up to me in annoyance. “Do you want to smell that every day?”
“At least he has clothes on. I would rather smell that than be forced to look at you naked,” I fire back.
Not really . . . not even close.
“Is that so?” he replies. His chin lifts in defiance. “And who made you the room manager?”
“You did, when you started being insulting.”
“Listen,” he replies as he keeps looking through his bag. “I don’t know how things work where you come from. But in my world, people don’t smell like body odor. They also don’t put up with it. Personal hygiene is a basic human response.” He shoves the deodorant bottle back at Basil. “Put. It. On,” he demands.
I narrow my eyes. I think I officially hate this guy.
“On one condition,” Basil replies.
“What’s that?” Rude guy pulls a pair of briefs on, and I pretend not to look.
“You teach me how to pick up women.”
What?
“What?” Christopher screws up his face, also confused. He pulls a shirt on over his head.
“You heard me. I’ll shower more often and wear deodorant if you teach me how to pick up women.”
“Oh my god . . .” I roll my eyes. “You cannot be serious?”
“Deal.” Christopher nods. “That’s easy. Chicks are easy. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Ugh.” Okay, it’s official. I do hate him. “Are you always so full-on yourself?” I ask him.