“We’re going there after this. She’s throwing a party and forgot to pick this stuff up.”
“Aren’t you the good, little cousin,” I grumble under my breath. Why did I let him convince me to come? I should have just stayed home like I wanted to.
As the stuff rolls along the conveyor belt, I toss on a package of mints. When Sam looks at me, I shrug.
I sit in coiled anxiety for the entire fifteen-minute drive. I eat mint after mint until the box is empty and my tongue is raw. Sam snatches the container from me, his eyes wide.
“Are you crazy? These are Altoids, not chocolate.”
I sit on my hands and look out the window. We are in Boca. Cammie’s house is in an upscale, gated neighborhood. Sam stops outside of a house with flowerboxes on the windows and jumps out. I scoot lower in my seat, though the open aired Jeep provides little place to hide.
“Hey,” He kicks the side of the car where I am sitting. “A little help.”
I glance over at him in disbelief. Did he really expect me to help him carry bags in there? He did. Oh shit.
He carries the bags to the side of the house and opens a gate that I presume leads to the backyard. I can do the backyard. I lower myself to the ground and grab a couple of bags from the trunk. I am mildly curious about what this party is for, anyway. As soon as I round the corner into the backyard, I walk into Cammie.
She gives me one wide-eyed look and screams Sam’s name. He comes running, his arms loaded with boxes.
“What is this?” Her voice is high pitched. “What is Dirty Red doing here?”
I shove the bags at her. Sam drops his boxes and gives Cammie a dirty look. “Caleb left her,” Sam says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Be nice.”
“He did not leave me,” I assure Cammie.
Cammie puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t care who left whom. Put those damn bottles over there.” She points to a table, and I carry them over. I sneak a look around. The yard is spacious. There is a pool in the shape of a lima bean and a hot tub. Men are setting up rented tables across the lawn, shaking out white linen tablecloths.
“Hi.”
I jump. A man comes up beside me carrying a huge speaker. He sets it on the table and smiles at me.
I eye him uncertainly. I’m not sure if I’m going to get yelled at for talking to him. Cammie is mildly insane. He is attractive. Everything about him is dark, aside from his blue eyes. I wonder idly if he’s part of the set-up crew for the party.
He extends his hand toward me, and without thinking, I take it.
“And who are you?” He asks when I don’t offer my name. He’s smirking at me like he thinks I’m funny.
“She’s no one.” Cammie comes up beside us and yanks our hands apart.
“Cammie!” he chides. He looks at her fondly, and then back at me. Her boyfriend? No. Cammie is not this guy’s type.
Cammie screams Sam’s name. He comes trotting around the corner, eating a bag of chips. “Take her home!” she says, giving me a dirty look.
The man cocks his head. He points to Sam and seems to be trying to make some kind of mental connection. When his eyes return to my face, he appears to have put the pieces together. His whole face lights up.
“You’re Leah,” he says in amazement. He’s wearing eyeglasses. I want him to take them off so I can see his eyes better.
“And you are?”
He’s re-extending his hand. Before I can re-take it, Cammie smacks it away.
“Dude,” she says, pointing at him. “Let’s not play this game.”
He ignores her. “I’m Noah,” he says.
I’m overtaken by his kindness. I’m overtaken by his — Oh, God! Olivia’s husband!
I compose myself before I audibly groan. This is a party for Olivia. I am at her best friend’s house, staring her husband in the face. Oh. My. God.
“I better go,” I mumble to Noah’s delighted face. Cammie is vigorously nodding her head. Noah is shaking his.
“You don’t look half as crazy as I thought you’d look.”
Did he really just say that?
“Olivia said something about a redheaded gargoyle with fangs.”
I blink at him. So, she’d told him about me. I wonder if she mentioned the little apartment-trashing stunt … or the driving her out of town stunt … or the trial? For some strange reason, I don’t want him to think I’m a bad person.
“Noah,” Cammie says, shaking his arm. “Can you not engage with the enemy? We have things to do.”
“She’s not the enemy,” he says, never taking his eyes from mine. “She’s a dirty fighter.” Yup, he knows. I feel like I’m in a trance. If this guy told me to drink the Kool-Aid, I would probably do it. Fuck it. I would absolutely drink the Kool-Aid.
Olivia married sexy Ghandi. No wonder she loves her husband. I clear my throat and look around the yard. “So, is this party for her?”
Cammie squeals somewhere in the background, Noah nods. “Yes, her birthday. It’s a surprise.”
How nice. No one throws me birthday parties. I swallow hard and step away from the table.
“It was nice meeting you,” I say. “Sam?”
He’s at my elbow in a second, steering me toward the gate. I glance over my shoulder at Olivia’s husband. He’s messing with the speaker. Cammie’s hands are flailing about, no doubt expressing her sentiments about me as he ignores her.
Hot damn. What does this woman have that I don’t? Why do men like Noah and my husband fall in love with her?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Past
The pressure at work changed after I found out about the doctored Prenavene results. It was like he knew I had unfurled his secret, and he was out to make me pay. The attention I had always desired from him was suddenly there. Except it wasn’t the warm, fatherly love I’d hoped for. He became hostile and demanding, often insulting me in front of people. There were a few times I’d look up to see him staring at me; the look on his face so acutely angry I’d feel lightheaded. I longed for the furrow I’d hidden myself in when he hadn’t known I existed. It was safer out of his eyesight. The most important question was: how had he found out?
It was Cash. It had to be. I'd asked her detailed questions about the trial run. She must have squealed to my father. And what made it worse was the way my father was treating her — like a long lost f**king daughter.
“Aren’t you the good, little cousin,” I grumble under my breath. Why did I let him convince me to come? I should have just stayed home like I wanted to.
As the stuff rolls along the conveyor belt, I toss on a package of mints. When Sam looks at me, I shrug.
I sit in coiled anxiety for the entire fifteen-minute drive. I eat mint after mint until the box is empty and my tongue is raw. Sam snatches the container from me, his eyes wide.
“Are you crazy? These are Altoids, not chocolate.”
I sit on my hands and look out the window. We are in Boca. Cammie’s house is in an upscale, gated neighborhood. Sam stops outside of a house with flowerboxes on the windows and jumps out. I scoot lower in my seat, though the open aired Jeep provides little place to hide.
“Hey,” He kicks the side of the car where I am sitting. “A little help.”
I glance over at him in disbelief. Did he really expect me to help him carry bags in there? He did. Oh shit.
He carries the bags to the side of the house and opens a gate that I presume leads to the backyard. I can do the backyard. I lower myself to the ground and grab a couple of bags from the trunk. I am mildly curious about what this party is for, anyway. As soon as I round the corner into the backyard, I walk into Cammie.
She gives me one wide-eyed look and screams Sam’s name. He comes running, his arms loaded with boxes.
“What is this?” Her voice is high pitched. “What is Dirty Red doing here?”
I shove the bags at her. Sam drops his boxes and gives Cammie a dirty look. “Caleb left her,” Sam says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Be nice.”
“He did not leave me,” I assure Cammie.
Cammie puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t care who left whom. Put those damn bottles over there.” She points to a table, and I carry them over. I sneak a look around. The yard is spacious. There is a pool in the shape of a lima bean and a hot tub. Men are setting up rented tables across the lawn, shaking out white linen tablecloths.
“Hi.”
I jump. A man comes up beside me carrying a huge speaker. He sets it on the table and smiles at me.
I eye him uncertainly. I’m not sure if I’m going to get yelled at for talking to him. Cammie is mildly insane. He is attractive. Everything about him is dark, aside from his blue eyes. I wonder idly if he’s part of the set-up crew for the party.
He extends his hand toward me, and without thinking, I take it.
“And who are you?” He asks when I don’t offer my name. He’s smirking at me like he thinks I’m funny.
“She’s no one.” Cammie comes up beside us and yanks our hands apart.
“Cammie!” he chides. He looks at her fondly, and then back at me. Her boyfriend? No. Cammie is not this guy’s type.
Cammie screams Sam’s name. He comes trotting around the corner, eating a bag of chips. “Take her home!” she says, giving me a dirty look.
The man cocks his head. He points to Sam and seems to be trying to make some kind of mental connection. When his eyes return to my face, he appears to have put the pieces together. His whole face lights up.
“You’re Leah,” he says in amazement. He’s wearing eyeglasses. I want him to take them off so I can see his eyes better.
“And you are?”
He’s re-extending his hand. Before I can re-take it, Cammie smacks it away.
“Dude,” she says, pointing at him. “Let’s not play this game.”
He ignores her. “I’m Noah,” he says.
I’m overtaken by his kindness. I’m overtaken by his — Oh, God! Olivia’s husband!
I compose myself before I audibly groan. This is a party for Olivia. I am at her best friend’s house, staring her husband in the face. Oh. My. God.
“I better go,” I mumble to Noah’s delighted face. Cammie is vigorously nodding her head. Noah is shaking his.
“You don’t look half as crazy as I thought you’d look.”
Did he really just say that?
“Olivia said something about a redheaded gargoyle with fangs.”
I blink at him. So, she’d told him about me. I wonder if she mentioned the little apartment-trashing stunt … or the driving her out of town stunt … or the trial? For some strange reason, I don’t want him to think I’m a bad person.
“Noah,” Cammie says, shaking his arm. “Can you not engage with the enemy? We have things to do.”
“She’s not the enemy,” he says, never taking his eyes from mine. “She’s a dirty fighter.” Yup, he knows. I feel like I’m in a trance. If this guy told me to drink the Kool-Aid, I would probably do it. Fuck it. I would absolutely drink the Kool-Aid.
Olivia married sexy Ghandi. No wonder she loves her husband. I clear my throat and look around the yard. “So, is this party for her?”
Cammie squeals somewhere in the background, Noah nods. “Yes, her birthday. It’s a surprise.”
How nice. No one throws me birthday parties. I swallow hard and step away from the table.
“It was nice meeting you,” I say. “Sam?”
He’s at my elbow in a second, steering me toward the gate. I glance over my shoulder at Olivia’s husband. He’s messing with the speaker. Cammie’s hands are flailing about, no doubt expressing her sentiments about me as he ignores her.
Hot damn. What does this woman have that I don’t? Why do men like Noah and my husband fall in love with her?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Past
The pressure at work changed after I found out about the doctored Prenavene results. It was like he knew I had unfurled his secret, and he was out to make me pay. The attention I had always desired from him was suddenly there. Except it wasn’t the warm, fatherly love I’d hoped for. He became hostile and demanding, often insulting me in front of people. There were a few times I’d look up to see him staring at me; the look on his face so acutely angry I’d feel lightheaded. I longed for the furrow I’d hidden myself in when he hadn’t known I existed. It was safer out of his eyesight. The most important question was: how had he found out?
It was Cash. It had to be. I'd asked her detailed questions about the trial run. She must have squealed to my father. And what made it worse was the way my father was treating her — like a long lost f**king daughter.
