Crazy?
Chicks?
At this, I think I might've growled. "If I'm crazy – and that's a huuuuuge 'if' – it's only because of you. You ever think of that?"
He paused as if thinking. "No. I can't say that I have."
"Right," I shot back. "Because you never think about anything.Nooooo.Not you. You just waltz through life, and everything turns out all peachy-keen."
I lowered my voice an octave and continued. "Oh, look at me. I'm Brody Blast, and I'm a billionaire. And I'm hot, too. And everyone wants to sleep with me, even though I smash historic houses for no good reason."
He stared down at me.
I stared up at him.
We were still staring when a sudden gush of water poured down between us. With a yelp of surprise, I jumped back.What the heck?
But then, I slowly looked up. As I did, my stomach sank.Oh, no.That dark spot in the ceiling was now officially a hole.Not a dent. Not a ding. But a real undisputed hole about the size of a dinner plate.
And through that hole, a steady stream of water was pouring down between us, splashing onto the faded wooden floor of the hallway. As my gaze bounced from the ceiling to the floor and back again, I literally groaned.
Brody said, "Told ya."
Asshole.
I wanted to lunge for him. But I didn't. Because I was too horrified to move. The wet floor between us was littered notonlywith bits of busted plaster, but also with scattered clothes –myclothes, the ones I'd tucked under my arm on my way out of the bathroom.
They weren't tucked anymore.
No.They were lying there, all spread out, like someone had gotten naked in a hurry. I saw rumpled jeans, a ratty sweater, plain white panties,andthe pink bra that Brody had nearly stomped on earlier.
How totally humiliating.
Especially the panties.
They were old, ugly, and decidedly unsexy – even more sonowthat they were nestled in clumps of soggy plaster.
Brody said, "If you're waiting for me to pick those up, forget it."
"Oh, for God's sake," I snapped. "I wouldn’t let you near my panties."
He laughed. "I meant your keys."
"What?"
He pointed. "Your keys."
I looked to where he was pointing. Sure enough, my small ring of keys was lying near my left foot.Crap.They must've fallen out of my pocket – maybe even out of the pocket of my discarded jeans.
As far as the specifics, I didn't know, and I didn't care.
With a muttered curse, I squatted down and gathered up the keysandthe clothes. I shoved the keys into my front pocket and then wadded up the now wet and grubby clothing.
I tucked the clothing back under my arm and stood to give Brody a long, withering look, which only made him smile like he knew something I didn't.
Fine. Whatever.
I returned my attention to the ceiling.
