“Oh my God!” she marvels as the lights blink on throughout the place. “It’s so homeyandcute!”
“If homey is code for small, then youguessedit.”
“I thought for sure you were going to pull into one of those huge mansions. I’ve never been to The Hills. I’m a Friar’s Corner girl myself.” She wrinkles her nose at the impoverished locale, and oddly it makes me like her just a little. I would have bet good money on the fact she was a Hills’ girl. Most of the kids at Whitney Briggs come from serious money, and judging by how impeccable she looks, her obstinate behavior, I would never have pegged her for a Friar’sCornergirl.
“No mansion here. Sorry to disappoint. You can take the room on the right. I’m at the far end. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” I growl out the words a little harsher than I meant to. Tonight has been a mindfuck. This entire last year has been a mindfuck. It’s impossible for me to wrap my head around any of it, and it’s turned me into abeast.
“Stay out of your way?” She shakes her head, her voice tinged with that sarcastic inflection she doles out so generously. “My, aren’t you charming? You get many panties dropping with that tone? Or is this beast routine something special you’re pulling from the Disney drawer just for me?” Her tiny fists embed themselves into her hips, and that scowl makes her ten times cuter than she was to begin with, but my blood is boiling once again because she’s crawling right back undermyskin.
“I’m only this charming to you, sweetheart. To everyone else, I’m simply an asshole.” I should know. I’ve had both Meredith and my brother tell me that to my face over a dozen times in the last fewmonths.
“Wow.” Her eyes round out like golf balls as she takes a step in. “First, I’m not your sweetheart. And secondly, here I thought you’d be just as sweet and fun-loving as your baby sis, but you’re about as welcoming as an orangutan with his dickonfire!”
My chest rumbles with a dry laugh as I step in close until we’re nearly nose-to-nose. “Honey, if I were an orangutan with my dick on fire, you would be the last person I’d expect help from. You’d probably douse me with gasoline and we’d bothincinerate.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She hops back with surprise. “Are you calling me a jinx?” Those long lashes of hers engage in a series of rapid blinks, and I swear I feel thebreeze.
“I didn’t have to.” My arms fold across my chest as if putting up a barrier. “You did itforme.”
“AARGH!” she screams in my face before bolting down the hall and into my bedroom with a slam ofthedoor.
“Your other right, sweetheart!” I shout after her, and she bounces out of my room and hightails it across the hall before slamming yet another door and sending its echo throughout the tiny little house. It’s the bathroom, but this time she doesn’t bothercomingout.
I’m suddenly wishing this were any one of those mega mansions that line the street in thisneighborhood.
God knows this house is far too small for the twoofus.
Two weeks plodby with Harlow,Low, and me doing the avoidance dance. She bakes up a storm, same warm, sweet chocolate brownies day after delicious day. I’m all too familiar with those brownies because she always leaves me a plate with tiny signs that readTry me!, Eat me, I’m delicious!,andChocolate is proven to add years to a lifespan regardless of the fact you’re a sourpuss!I had to chuckle at that last one. But, overall, it’s been a sweet, albeit unspoken gesture. I’ve come home to see her in action a few times and couldn’t help but note she’s got the same song playing on a loop—“Key Largo”. Something about its sweet backbeat is charming, just like her. She reminds me so much of Raven—all the best parts combined—and yet I’m not feeling brotherly toward her at all. But other than the brownies, we can’t seem to find any common ground. We’re still essentially strangers, just like we were the first day we met, or should I say since the day I had her arrested. If I see her coming, I’m going—and viceversa.
But on this groggy, gray Sunday morning, we both happen to bump into one another at the coffee maker, me in my sweats and her in a pair of hot pink silk pj’s that swish like magic with each step she takes and bare feet with bright pink painted toenails that look like candy. Her hair is piled on her head in a messy bun, and her mascara is slightly smudged, giving her that sexy as all hell morning after look. Her nipples pierce through that silky top like pencil erasers, and I try my damnedest to keep my eyes above her neck. But she’s beautiful and she’s glowing with thatI’ve just been fuckedlook in her eyes, and dear God help me because it feels as if I’m falling back down that rabbit hole I swore I’d never get near again for the rest of my life. Low is pulling me in, whether or not she knows it, by the balls, by the heart, and every last part of me is trying to convince itself I’munwilling.
“Did you have a guest last night?” I regret the words the second they leave my lips. I move quickly to get a mug from the cabinet before she decks me and pull out twoinstead.
“Excuse me?” Her voice pitches in a way that assures me I’ve all but set the houseonfire.
I hand her a mug, and she plucks it rather aggressively while mouthing a briskthank youthrough ascowl.
“I just thought, you know. You look like you might have had a guest. You’ve got nice pj’s on, and you’ve got that look.” Crap. It’s like I’m fishing for trouble. And hell, I might be. Trouble would be more action in this house than I’ve had forweeks.
She sucks in a hard breath, assuring me I’ve gone too far. I take it it’s too late to backtrack the hell out of thisconversation.
She steps into me, and I back up a notch. Her eyes squint into mine with an accusation before she ever opens her mouth. “Are you saying I look like I got fucked lastnight?”
Crap. I try to make a break for the coffee maker, but she steps in front of me, blocking me off atthepass.
Our eyes lock for a moment. Her features pinch to a genuine look of rage, her skin piques as pink as her nightshirt, and her entire face radiates with a sharp beauty that takes mybreathaway.
“No,no.” I wince as I try to deny my way out of it, but we both know it’s too late for that. “I just—you know, you’re glowing. It’s a good look on you. Don’t get mewrong.”
“Wow.” She lets out an incredulous huff. “I don’t know who made you the panty police, but no, I did not have a guest in my bedroom—or my vagina lastnight.”
Panty police?Vagina?
“Not that I would mind.” I hold out the coffeepot, and she hesitantly allows me to fill her mug. “You can do as you please. It’s kind of nice having someone else around. Please feel free to help yourself to whatever I have in the fridge or thepantry.”
“Oh myGod!” she barks so loud I nearly burn the shit out of myself as the coffee licks my hand. “It’s because I ate that moldy oldie yogurt you had collecting fuzz in the back of the refrigerator, isn’t it? Well, I’msorry,but I happened to have a hankering for spoiled dairy last night. I’ll be sure to restock your supply once it curdles in my closet for a couple of weeks!” The veins in her neck distend, and she’s leaning forward, hand on hip, neck swaying from side-to-side, and I can’t help but think she’s sexy as hell when she’s feisty—and she happens to be feisty all thedamntime.
“I promise you, I didn’t notice the yogurt.” I lift my hands in surrender. “And I’m sorry about the mold. Please only eat the food that hasn’t reached its expiration date. I’ll try to clean out the fridge when I get a chance.” I offer a peaceable smile, and her face explodes from a rosy pink to beet red, bordering on pomegranate. It’s amazing how being nice to someone can set an ammunition factory shooting through their skull. I see it just about every day at the restaurant with its angry customers. Trying to defuse it is tantamount to dousing it in gasoline and then breathing fire, but something in me demands to lightthatfire.
