Scary how easy it is for someone with money and connections to strip people naked.
Scarier because if I have her info, then Harry Jay surely has it too. And there’s no damn way I’m letting her face him alone.
It’s not that I don’t think she’s capable—we both know she is.
This is about leveling the playing field.
That’s the last time the bastard thinks he can pick on a defenseless young woman, dragging her back to the hell he caused.
The long drive down the highway is mostly silent, and as we approach Seattle, she fumbles around in her bag for her keys.
“It’s not the nicest place,” she says anxiously. “Nothing like your palace, I mean.”
“I’ve seen it before. You don’t need to apologize. It’s a nice little house.”
“It’s just ...” Her mouth opens and closes. “Okay.”
“Good. Let’s get you home so you can have a hot shower.”
In ten or fifteen minutes, I’m walking through her front door. I notice her stop in the doorway and how her eyes dart around, making sure there aren’t intruders.
That makes two of us, and not just because of Harry Jay’s shit.
At this point in my life, it’s second nature to be wary. Always watching for cameras, for corporate spies from rival brands after Pruitt Ag. Someone always looking for their next viral story, because I turned my face to scratch my nose and it looked like I was fishing for boogers.
Once the door’s unlocked, she ushers me in.
Her house is small, a little cramped with books everywhere and scented candles lining small shelves in the living room. I spy a Kindle on top of a small stack of books next to the sofa—all romance paperbacks—and smile a little.
Some of these books look filthy. I’ve known enough girls to figure out that the dirtiest books hide under the covers with pretty flowers and mountain sunsets.
“Want a beer?” she asks a little nervously, gesturing to her kitchen.
“Sure. We just survived death by Mom, and that’s reason to celebrate.” I sink down on the sofa, sensing she wants to do this shit herself. “She does like you, you know.”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t warn me. Jackwagon.” She gives me a dirty look.
“But you’ll forgive me, won’t you? You’re sugar and spice, Sass. Not a vengeful bone in your body.”
“I’ll show you vengeful, stupid man.” She rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her cheek curve. “Don’t be so cocky.”
“Am I wrong?” I nudge a book with my toe. “This is some interesting reading material, by the way.”
“What can I say? I like smut.” She shrugs so nonchalantly it takes a second to sink into my head.
And when it does, I laugh.
Then I think about her in bed, some toy buzzing between her legs, biting her lip as she comes like a dream.
I also get pissed that I’m not there to push the toy away, to replace it with a dick that brings her off leagues better than any vibrator.
Shit, maybe I need to start reading more.
She smirks as she hands me a beer. “What’s wrong? You look like I knocked you over the head with a mallet.”
“Just imagining what makes you tingle in those books,” I tell her.
“Oh, you know. The usual. Fun times with firefighters and lumberjacks and guys who arereallygood with their hands.” There’s no hint of shame in her gaze as it meets mine.
