CHAPTER5
He’d done it. He’d butchered her tree. He’dbutcheredherfreakingtree.
Argh. She was going to kill him.
Pure, unadulterated rage burned through her veins as she glared at Becket’s house. A part of her wanted to march right on over there and strangle him now. But she was late. And even though the need to murder him was strong, her need to get ready for the ball was stronger.
Damn him. He knew she’d be busy tonight.
Sky stomped inside and slammed the door closed. Tonight was supposed to be fun. A celebration. And she was not going to let her no-good neighbor ruin that.
She jogged upstairs and jumped into the shower.
Maybe she’d throw a drink on him tonight. No, better yet, she’d call Jesse tomorrow and get him to arrest his own brother.
Ha. That probably wouldn’t happen.
He thought he’d won this one. But the joke was on him—because today, her building permit for the fence had finally come through. The fence was going up, and there was nothing her deranged, yard-mutilating neighbor could do about it.
A small smile returned to her face as she got out of the shower and dried off.
Sky could just picture the scowl on his face when he saw the fence up, and it brought her far too much joy.
She should be thinking about the million and one things she had to check once she got to the venue. The food. The drinks. The music. It should all be on her mind. It wasn’t. Becket was.
She dressed quickly, applied her makeup and did her hair before pulling on her dress. The dress was formal but also with a hint of sexy.
She stepped away from the mirror and glanced out the window, her heart giving a sad kick at the sight of her naked tree. The worst part was, there’d been no reason for him to do it. Yes, he’d said it was a safety thing. And yes, she was well aware of the town thief that had been in the paper. But ifhertree blockedhisview, that wasn’t her problem. He still had plenty of street view with the branches fully intact.
She hated him. It didn’t matter how pretty his face was, she did not like Becket Hayes.
Her phone buzzed from her dresser, and she lifted it to see it was her mother.
“Hey, Mom. Are you and Dad ready to go?”
“We’re all dressed, but I need you to tell your father there’ll be food at the fundraiser. He’s insisting on stopping for dinner on the way.” There was a shuffling noise. “Roger, take the phone.”
“Who is it?”
Sky chuckled at her father’s confused tone.
“Who do you think? It’s Skylar. Take the phone.”
There was another shuffling sound, then her dad’s voice again. “Skylar?”
“Hi, Dad. There’s food at the fundraiser.”
“But you said we don’t have set seats or individual plates.”
She put the cell on speaker and set it onto the dresser to put on her left earring. “That’s right. It’s cocktail food.”
“Cocktail food?”
What century was her father from? “Food will be brought around by servers on trays, and you can take what you want. There’ll be plenty.”
“Oh. I don’t think I’ll like that.”
“Roger, stop being a stick in the mud,” her mother scolded. “It’ll be great. Give me the phone.”
