Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I froze, dress bunched around my waist, underwear at half-mast, pasty ass exposed, and in what had to be the least dignified position of my entire life.
At least I hadn’t already started peeing…
The universe, apparently deciding I hadn't suffered enough, chose that moment to fully reveal my visitor. He stepped into view, and my brain short-circuited.
He was tall—the kind of tall that made you want to climb him like a tree. Dark hair fell across his forehead in that perfectly messy way hot guys across the world seemed to have a monopoly on. And his face was… chef’s kiss. A sharp jawline, strong nose, and eyes so blue they made the Irish sky look washed out.
A black sweater hugged broad shoulders and what had to be an illegal amount of muscle. He looked like he'd walked straight out of a magazine ad for "Rugged Rich Guy Casual Wear."
And for some reason, I was still frozen in position. That was also the exact moment the pee started to flow.
Just wonderful.
One of his thick, dark eyebrows lifted and he turned his back to me. “Good for you. A lot of people get gun shy at the range, if you know what I mean.”
I should have been mortified. Should have died on the spot. Instead, I found myself fighting back a laugh. "This isn't what it looks like."
"No?" I could hear the amusement in his voice and picture the smile on his full lips. "Is it at least what it sounds like? Because it sounds like you’ve got your ass out and you’re pissing in a men’s urinal.” He leaned to the side, then nodded. “With impressive aim, I should add."
"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like." I straightened up when I finished and tried to resurrect my long-dead dignity by fixing my clothing. "But in my defense, the women's room is out of order and that toilet"—I pointed to the stall—"is probably a portal to hell."
He took a quick look in the stall and grimaced. "Fair point." Then he smiled, and oh my God, that smile should come with a warning label.
"I'm James," he said.
"Emma," I managed, very aware that my face was probably bright red. "And I don't usually meet men like this."
"In bathrooms?"
"That, or with my panties around my ankles. But, um… do you mind turning around again? Sometimes, when I’m nervous, I have to go twice.”
His laugh was rich and deep, doing dangerous things to my insides. "I'll wait outside and guard the door while you... finish up."
"My hero," I said dryly, but couldn't help smiling.
He gave an exaggerated bow and backed toward the door. "Take your time."
As the door closed behind him, I heard him call out, "Don't forget to wash your hands!"
I burst out laughing, then immediately regretted it as my bladder protested. Right. Focus. I had a mission to complete.
A couple minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling Richardious, if slightly traumatized. James was leaning against the wall, looking unfairly attractive for someone standing in a medieval hallway. In fact, with a slight wardrobe change, I could’ve absolutely pictured him belonging in a place like this.
Prince James, Baron of Impeccable Genetics and heir to the throne of bedroom eyes.
"Successful mission?" he asked.
"Let's never speak of it again." I smoothed down my dress. "Though I do feel like I've really bonded with this castle now. Nothing says 'intimate connection' quite like peeing in ancient urinals."
"I'm pretty sure the bathrooms were added when they started using this place as a wedding venue. But don’t worry, I’m sure the castle still enjoyed the moment you two shared back there.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
I opened my mouth to respond with something witty—or at least something that wouldn't make me sound like a complete idiot—when voices echoed down the corridor. A group of men rounded the corner, and I recognized them as part of tomorrow's wedding party.
"Oh, Emma!" Mr. Harrison Senior called out in his booming Irish accent. "Checking the facilities for tomorrow, are you? That's dedication!"
I met James' eye, saw the laughter there. "Absolutely! Just making sure everything is..." I gestured vaguely, "up to standard."
"And?" Mr. Harrison asked.
"The urinals are excellent," I said with complete seriousness. "Very... architecturally sound."
Behind the wedding party, James had to turn away, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
I imagined Maggie’s laughter when I told her this story and found myself smiling. I wouldn’t even have to embellish it like usual. The real version was plenty ridiculous. But I doubted she’d believe me when I told her how gorgeous this James guy was. I was looking at him and I hardly believed it.
After the wedding party passed, leaving echoes of laughter in their wake, I turned back to James. "So, what brings you to Ashworth Castle? Are you with the wedding?"