Chapter 22
Briggs
I’mstillangry at her little deadbolt stunt when we pull up in front of Carter’s house. The driveway is already packed with cars, so I park on the street instead.
“I expect you to be on your best behavior. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends,” I warn.
“What does that even mean?” She folds her arms across her chest, clearly uncomfortable being here.
“It means do as I say and don’t be a fucking prude.” I unbuckle her seat belt before I do the same to mine. “Let’s go, little bird.”
I open my door and climb out of my truck, surprised when Wren does the same without being asked twice. My bird is learning, good. We meet at the hood of the truck and walk side by side toward the house.
Only when I’m not heading for the front door and instead to the side of the house, does Wren speak up. “Where are we going?”
“Back of the house, where the pool is.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Wren freezes. I take a step forward without her before I come to a halt myself.
I look back at her over my shoulder. “What now?”
“You didn’t say anything about a pool.” Wren takes a tiny step back and, for a moment, I think she is about to make a run for it.
“It’s a pool party, so yeah, there is a pool.”
“I don’t do pools,” Wren says, all matter of fact.
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Why? Can’t swim,” I joke. Only Wren isn’t laughing and the shocked look in her eyes tells me I’m spot on.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Wren tries to change the subject.
“You don’t need a bathing suit here. We usually go naked.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not joking. Do you see me wearing swimming trunks?” I point to my dark blue jeans. “Now you can either walk with me back there, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and throw you into the pool. It’s your choice.”
“I’m not a good swimmer,” Wren admits, fear and worry written all over her face. “I really don’t want to go into the water at all.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you drown.” I wink at her.
“I don’t believe you.”
I put my hand over my chest as if I’m hurt by her words. “Who would I have to torment if you were gone?”
“I’m sure you’d find someone else,” she quips.
“There is nothing as satisfying as tormenting you. No one could measure up.”
“I’m flattered.” She rolls her eyes.
“Roll your eyes at me again and see what happens,” I warn. “I’m not in the mood today.”
“I’ve noticed. Are you out of weed or something?”
“Is that what you want? To get high?”
“I want you to get high. You are nicer to me when you are stoned.”
“’Cause that’s the only time you are bearable,” I say. “Sorry, we are not getting high tonight. I want you fully lucid while we are doing this. Now, last chance to walk on your own.”
