Blindsided By The Boss

11 - Callum

"What size is she?" the young female store clerk asked when I held up a stunning emerald sequin V-neck gown that caught my eye. And as I held it up to take a close look, I imagined it on Eloise and how beautiful it would look on her—how gorgeous she would look wearing it.

I looked the woman up and down, then thought about Eloise when she was lying beneath me and when I had her crammed against the wall. "What size are you?"

She laughed like it was a question I shouldn't be asking her. But I had to ask. I'm not used to doing anything like this, and I don't want to get Eloise's size wrong, especially if I'm spending almost five grand on a dress to bring a smile to her face—something I haven't done since our night in Florida—the night she thought and still thinks I was someone else.

Next weekend is my best friend Rory's wedding. And come that Monday morning, five days before the I do's will be exchanged. Eloise and I are supposed to share a room for six nights. And she doesn't know I will share that room with her. At least, I don't think she does since I haven't gotten a nasty email from her calling me every name in the book.

I figured all this out Friday night after walking into the nightclub to get Eloise out of there before she embarrassed herself, and to my surprise, she was hanging out with Isabelle—Rory's bride-to-be.

And that's when it hit me after seeing Isabelle, Tallulah, Shelby, Amanda, and Carina sitting at the table with her, doing tequila shots. It's when I also learned that Eloise is Isabelle's maid of honor—something my group of friends failed to tell me. It's also when I remembered Tallulah mentioning in Florida that she thought the name Eloise sounded familiar.

Jokes on me—on us.

So, now I know the woman I'll spend nearly a week in a hotel room with in Hawaii is not some random friend of Isabelle's. It's the fucking thorn in my ass, yet gorgeous Eloise. The woman who hates my guts. And the woman I love getting under her skin. Six months I've given this woman hell and tried firing her, and now I'll escort her down the aisle. Who I'll be dancing with, and who I'll be spending every waking fucking minute with for nearly a week.

And because I don't want to upset my friends or ruin Rory and Isabelle's wedding. Mostly since they'll have two belligerent friends who don't get along, forced to hang out for a week, and don't seem to know when to quit pushing each other's buttons, take jabs, or insult one another, and I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats, embarrassing them. And to show my friends I can put our differences to the side, I'll be the one to call a truce for the week—for our friends' sake, that is. I don't want to get ahead of myself, though. Because of how feisty Eloise is, I'm almost sure she won't want to make a truce.

Howbeit, after figuring out my partner is the beautiful and very sexy pain in my ass Eloise, I called the hotel we're all staying at and made them an offer they couldn't refuse to switch our room to the top floor penthouse suite facing the ocean. I figured that would help me earn some points with Eloise and make her stay in the room with me much more accommodating and relaxing; I felt that was the least I could do for her.

The one time I'm willing to play nice with her...

So now, because we have three days of dancing lessons for the wedding party dance, I'm out on fifth avenue, shopping for Eloise, wanting to buy her a nice dress, along with jewelry to match, with hopes she won't shred the dress and throw away the jewelry.

"What size am I?" the store clerk asked, surprised by my question.

"I know it's a strange question, but I'm trying to figure out her size. And you're about her height, yet she's a bit smaller framed than you. So I'm curious as to what her size would be. I'd call and ask her, but I want this to be a surprise." One massive jaw-dropper that I know will leave her flabbergasted.