In the background of the call, I hear my brother's voice, but I can't understand what he's saying.
"Gotta go," Elena says, "Chance needs me. He's completely hopeless when it comes to picking out place settings for the wedding, but we have to do that before we fly to England tomorrow."
"Isn't midnight an odd time to shop for place settings?" I have no idea what those are, but it sounds like a daytime shopping event.
"Yeah, but we tried shopping in the store this afternoon. Chance kept getting distracted by shiny objects like big-screen TVs. Online shopping is the only way to keep him focused."
Elena and I say goodbye, and I carry my bag down the hall.
Arden dashes out of one of the bedrooms, holding a length of aluminium foil in her hand.
"Here," she says, offering the foil to me. "You might want to sleep with that over your head to keep the microwaves from altering your brain chemistry. The waves are strongest at night."
What else can I do? Her earnest expression convinces me she's serious, so I take the foil. "Thank you. It's kind of you to look out for my brain chemistry."
I watch her perfect arse wiggle while she spins around and trots back into her room. She shuts the door, cutting off my view of her bum.
Oh yes, I'd love to shag that girl. So what if she's barking mad? I'm not going to date her, much less marry her.
Maybe my American adventure begins right now.
Chapter Two
Arden
I'm not totally insane, I swear it. Yes, I love weird things like auras and aliens, and sometimes I go a little overboard in telling people about them. It's become a kind of self-defense mechanism. I mean, after a dozen guys try to seduce you so they can try to get their grubby hands on your money, you tend to get a little paranoid. Babbling about my kooky interests turns out to be the quickest way to get rid of those losers. I don't believe everything I say, though I do believe in the possibilities of things that can never be proved. Sometimes I accidentally scare off a solid prospect with my weirdness. C'est la vie.
Yeah, those three words are the extent of my French expertise. And I got those from a Robbie Nevil song. Oh, that reminds me. I'm also obsessed with eighties pop music. So, I'm super popular on karaoke night but pretty much treated like a plague victim the rest of the time.
I flop backward onto my bed, making it bounce and creak.
Bright side? I have the most amazing best friend in the world. Elena Linwood, soon to be Elena Dixon, has always appreciated my loony side. I adore her to pieces. And her fiancé? Whew, break out the firehose. I haven't met Chance Dixon yet, but I've seen pictures of him. Not only is he smokin' hot, but according to Elena, he's also great at his job and a super nice and super fun person. She's so lucky, and I'm so happy for her.
As for Chance's brothers, I wasn't supposed to meet them until the wedding two weeks from now. Elena told me they're hot too, but that Dane is the cerebral type and Reese wants to "shag" an American girl. If I were going to walk into the living room in my undies and bump into one of them, I would've hoped for Dane. Instead, I got Reese. The hound. The one who finds women's numbers on restroom stalls and calls them. Seriously. Elena told me that.
But Reese has the most beautiful blue eyes, and I'd love to push my fingers into that thick, dark hair. Can't forget about his body either. Holy shit, he's hot. And while I was in Ecuador, I had lots of time to think about stuff and decide I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I want to have sex as soon as possible, preferably with a decent guy.
I sigh miserably, flinging my arms out like a snow angel without the snow. Reese is gorgeous, but in addition to what Elena told me about him, I'm getting a vibe from him that screams "player." How did Elena get so damn lucky with Chance?
Well, they did start out having a quickie in an elevator...
My tummy grumbles. I'd been on my way to the kitchen for a snack when Reese scared the holy living shit out of me. Maybe he's gone into his room by now. Maybe I can sneak out there and grab something to eat.
When did I become a coward? Me, the girl who bungee-jumped off a bridge. And participated in a midnight seance. And chased UFOs across the Mojave Desert. Of course, those lights in the sky had turned out to be drones operated by bored teenagers. C'est la vie, as my motto goes. Nothing ventured, no adventure gained.
I pull on my favorite T-shirt---the one that features a glow-in-the-dark alien face---and my favorite pair of shorts. They're pink, naturally, but they don't glow in the dark. I have panties that do that, though.
Appropriately dressed, I amble out into the living room.
Reese is sitting on the sofa, staring down at his phone. He smiles and types something, then notices me.
"There you are, Luscious," he says, like that adjective is my name. "Did you finally remember why you came into the living room the first time?"
"Yes. I'm hungry."
I sashay past him---honestly, sashaying is my normal way of walking, can't help it---and don't look at him. In the kitchen, I open the fridge to consider its contents. Beer. Lots of beer.Jeez, Kyle, are you a lush or what?Elena left some food, so I look past the four six-packs of Coors and a twelve-pack of Budweiser to decide what I want to eat. It's all healthy food, like hummus and yogurt. My tummy demands decadence, not diet stuff.
Reese comes up alongside me, peering into the fridge. "Don't you have any biscuits?"