Fake Single Dad A Billionaire Single Dad Romantic Comedy - Melinda Minx Page 0,1
couch, and held it out for him.
He threw the blanket over his shoulders. It didn’t cover him completely, and with his wild hair and the brown cloth wrapped around him—but his six-pack abs still visible—he looked like some kind of viking or barbarian warrior. He was just missing the axe.
“My car is worth like $6,000, tops,” I said.
“I don’t know if you recognize me,” he said, “but I’m Wilder Winters. I own The Osiris. I’m good for the money. I’d be paying you mostly for the inconvenience.” He turned toward the kitchen and sniffed. “Is that…”
“Bacon,” I said. “It is.”
“A beautiful woman and bacon,” he said, “it seems I stumbled onto the right house.”
“I’m going to go get dressed,” I said, trying not to blush from his unexpected compliment, “if you can finish cooking the bacon, it’s all yours.”
Before he could stop me, I rushed down the hallway toward my bedroom. I’d already decided I wasn’t selling him my car. I needed it to go to work, and even though Wilder Winters could afford to be charged an outrageous price, it just didn’t feel right to me to rip off anyone so badly. Not even him. I decided I was going to drive him into town, free of charge. Maybe having my boss’s boss’s boss owe me a favor would be a nice little perk I could take away from this whole thing.
I took off my robe and grabbed one of my uniforms off the hanger. I realized that the uniform was a lot more revealing than a bathrobe. It was a tight and short black skirt with a low-cut top. It was mostly all black, but there was little gold-leaf inlay around the hem of the skirt and highlighting my cleavage. I rolled my eyes as I looked in the mirror, because the man responsible for this outfit was cooking bacon in my kitchen.
I walked back into the kitchen and saw Wilder clutching the blanket with one hand, and flipping bacon strips onto a plate. “You want me to make some eggs?” he asked without turning around.
“Sure,” I said.
Then he did turn, and it was his chance to do a double-take.
“What the hell,” he said, turning all the way around to face me. He had a strip of bacon in his free hand, and he took a massive bite out of it as he raised an eyebrow at me. His eyes fell down to my very exposed breasts as he chewed, and then down along the curve of my hips, and all the way down my legs to my high heels. His smirk widened to a full-on grin as he swallowed down the half-piece of bacon.
“You work at my hotel?” he said.
I nodded. “I’ll drive you there.”
“I don’t want to be in your way.”
“Make breakfast for me, and won’t be in my way,” I said.
He shrugged and cracked some eggs into the pan. “I like them over easy, you?”
“Same.”
He whistled as he watched the eggs cook in the pan. The pan was already very hot from the bacon, so he flipped the eggs over after just a minute or so. He cracked some freshly ground salt and pepper in, then flipped the eggs onto the plate with the bacon.
He opened the cupboard and frowned.
“I only have one plate,” I said, “and one of most of everything.”
“Very committed to the lone woman in the desert schtick?”
I smiled and nodded.
“I did find a second fork,” he said, holding one up.
“That’s my salad fork. There’s only one of those too.”
I poured us each a glass of orange juice—I had one glass and one mug for coffee, but I’d already had my coffee this morning. I gave Wilder the glass and drank out of the mug.
He sat down next to me. It was a rustic style dining table I’d bought at a yard sale. There weren’t any chairs, just a single long, wooden bench that had come with the table.
“So we can just share the plate?” he asked.
I nodded and stuck my fork lengthwise into one of the eggs, cutting off a slice of it. “You want to tell me how you ended up shirtless in the desert?”
“Not really.” He looked over at me. His eyes locked on the egg going into my mouth, and then his eyes fell down my body again. He smiled, but he was clearly trying to hide the fact that he was smiling.