I dash through the kitchen and out the back door, circling back against the house to see if I can catch a glimpse of—
Lorelei.
It’s not someone dropping off another letter. I’m not solving that mystery tonight by hiding on the side of the house and watching to see who’s either for or against us based on what another letter might say.
It’s Dane’s sister.
And she’s climbing out of her car on the small side gravel parking area, which means she’s likely headed to the front door.
Which opens into the living room.
Where Dane’s stuff is scattered about, making it clear we’re not sharing a bedroom.
Crap crap crap.
I retrace my steps, dashing through the kitchen door and back into the house.
Chili lifts his head, but he doesn’t bark at me.
Two options right now.
One, I let Lorelei in the house, and she sees that Dane’s stuff is all over the living room while he showers solo.
Or two—the option I take—is to race back to the bedroom.
Lorelei knocks at the door as I scurry down the hallway and into the bedroom.
Is the front door unlocked?
Would she let herself in?
Surely not.
If we don’t answer, she’ll assume we’re doing what fiancés do, and she’ll go away.
I think.
I hope.
I fling myself into the bedroom and instantly wish I hadn’t.
Dane left the bathroom door open.
He left the bathroom door open into the bedroom, and I can clearly see his outline against the fogged-up glass of the shower, andoh my holy big apple.
Walk away, Amanda.
Turn around.
Do not keep standing here.
I totally keep standing here.
Staring at the lean, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man who put an engagement ring on my finger, while he strokes his cock in the shower, his head thrust back, eyes closed, hair wet, hand jerking up and down over his impressive erection.
Turn around,I order myself again.
Problem is, I’ve never been the best of rule followers.
