Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(89)

 

When I woke the next morning, Amy was lying next to me, snoring softly. I had no idea how I got to my bed, but Amy must have gotten me into bed after I fell asleep on the couch. I smiled and covered her partially exposed body with the comforter.

 

Saturday was finally here, and I was gatecrashing a party. I quietly got out of bed so I didn't wake Amy. I needed some quiet before her yapping restarted. But I wasn't quiet enough; Amy woke up as soon as I moved from the bed.

 

"It's Saturday," she yawned. “Finally.”

 

"I know," I said, turning around to smile at her. Yes, it was Saturday and I was going to make a total fool of myself.

 

"Are you excited?"

 

"Sort of," I said. I was kind of excited to be going somewhere. The closest I'd come to a man since breaking up with Jim was Mr. Rich, and that didn’t qualify as an interaction. I’d hardly given him the time and energy. Now I was heading off to see a billionaire who was probably as cocky as Mr. Rich. At least Nick Saunders sounded more polished and seemed to know how to treat a woman.

 

“Sort of? You should be ecstatic,” Amy said, jumping out of bed.

 

I don’t know where she gets her energy, but Amy could be a fireball sometimes. I didn’t have the energy for her that morning. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced as I slipped off to the bathroom. By the time I got out of the shower, Amy was cooking breakfast.

 

"You honestly, truly love cooking," I said as I towel-dried my hair. Amy was making miracles with the bare essentials I had.

 

"Not really, but we can't eat junk food all the time."

 

I smiled at Amy. Years ago, when we were roommates, Amy had always done the cooking while I did the eating. I still loved eating and would throw down a good meal any day, no questions asked. My curves needed to be fed.

 

"Besides, it's fun to cook for someone who actually likes food. Justin's so picky I barely make anything he likes."

 

"Justin is not human," I teased. Amy's longtime boyfriend was the only man I've ever met who ate the bare minimum to survive. To be fair to him, he had a whole host of food allergies, so the poor thing could hardly eat anything that didn't cause him to break out in hives or just plain get sick.

 

"Hey. Leave my boyfriend alone. At least I have one. All you have is that stuffed bear over there.”

 

I looked at Winky, my stuffed teddy bear, laying on the bed. I didn't see anything wrong with having a stuffed animal that reminded me of home. I may be an adult, but I still missed home occasionally, and Winky was my childhood teddy.

 

"Now you're starting a war," I said as I let my towel fall to the floor and pulled on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. Amy glanced briefly at me as I dressed and continued cooking. It was funny how comfortable we were with each other's bodies, so much so that I had no problem undressing and dressing in front of her.

 

"Nick’s in for a treat," Amy said as she glanced at me again. “You look really curvy.”

 

"Curvy? You mean fatter?" I asked, pulling up my tee-shirt in front of the mirror. I loved my curves, but I didn't want anyone calling my fat. Fat meant I was slacking on exercise, which meant being unhealthy. I was curvy, not unhealthy.

 

"Relax, girl, you look curvy and hot. I wish I had your body," she sighed as she looked at her body.

 

Amy was as lanky as a stick, and even though she ate much more than I could, she didn't gain an ounce of weight. Back in high school, the teachers thought she was bulimic and had made her get a doctor's note to prove otherwise, which I’d always thought was inappropriate.

 

"You look great, Amy," I said. What else could I to say? The poor thing had been on so many fattening diets but nothing worked. Her doctors had explained that her metabolism was simply super-charged.

 

"That's what you always say," Amy said, smiling as she brought a plate of food to the coffee table.

 

"I had that in my fridge?" I asked, looking suspiciously at the plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, and waffles.

 

"Not a fat chance. Went to grocery after you slept off yesterday.”

 

"I see," I said as I started digging into the food, piling up my plate and drizzling maple syrup over the waffles.

 

"Someone's hungry," she said, laughing.

 

"Well, I better eat well now because I may be spending the rest of my life in prison for identity theft."

 

"Okay, you need to drop this impersonation thing. If I took the card and wore the necklace and showed up as Sara Nolles, that's impersonation. If Sara Nolles showed up as Sara Nolles, that's accepting an invitation."