Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 129691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
The amusement fell from Dani’s face. “Oh, you’re going to run to Vinnie with tales, are you?”
“If it happens again, yes, I will. Because I’m done with your shit. As you so often remind me, you’re primary, so act like it instead of punishing me for something I absolutely cannot control.” With that, Bree walked out.
Fumbling in surprise, Elle nearly dropped the paint roller. She gaped at Bree. “He mentioned the kiss? The kiss? He actually acknowledged that it happened?”
“Yep,” said Bree, sweeping her roller up and down, spreading the soft, sedate blue paint on the wall. The redhead’s price for helping with the bedroom makeover was the promise of a juicy piece of info—Elle rarely did anything for nothing.
“I can’t believe you’re only telling me this now. Well, I can believe it. You’re like a freaking vault. It’s maddening.” Elle huffed. “Please tell me there’s more.”
“There’s more. He reminded me of how I came all over his thigh. At which point I reminded him that he’d shoved me away afterward. And then …” She cut off, hesitant to continue, worried her friend might read too much into it.
Elle wagged her finger. “Oh no, you can’t just stop there, Dwyer. Spill.”
“Well, I teased him over how he likes to pretend our chemistry doesn’t exist. And he got all … weird.”
“Expand on weird.”
Bree sighed. “Don’t wanna.”
“Bitch, don’t you leave me hanging like this. Expand.”
“He, in so many words, admitted that he was attracted to me—no, don’t get all excited, I haven’t finished—but then he also said I’m not ready for what he’d demand of me.” Alex hadn’t been back to the store since that day. Which was good, because both she and her cat were still mega ticked off at him.
“He, a commitment-phobe, said that to you? Unbelievable. Did you tell him that you’re planning to shit all over me in a way from which I’ll never recover?”
Bree’s lips twitched. “If you mean, did I tell him I’m planning to leave the pride, no I didn’t.” She dipped her roller in the bucket, coating it in more paint. “It’s not his business.”
“I don’t think he’s gonna like it. Not at all.”
“Which isn’t my problem.”
Elle sighed. “I don’t know how to talk you out of leaving. Nothing I’ve said so far has worked. And I have a feeling that Mateo made my chances of changing your mind harder, whatever the fuck he did.” She shot Bree a sideways glance. “I’m guessing, given how much of a nosy shit Alex can be, that he pushed you to tell him what you and Mateo argued over. Did you?” she asked, her tone careful. And Bree knew her friend would go psycho on her ass if the answer was yes.
“No. I already promised you that you’ll be the first person I’ll tell when I’m ready to talk about it.”
“I’m holding you to that promise.” The redhead licked her lips. “He did something bad, didn’t he?” she asked, her voice low and sad. “I know you. You’re not a person who’d turn away from a friend like this unless they really deserved it. What did he do?”
Bree swallowed. “Something he can’t ever take back.” She swept the roller over a drippy, streak of blue paint to smooth it out. “We really could have used another set of hands,” she added, forcing a perky note to her voice.
Elle narrowed her eyes. “Changing the subject, are we? Fine. I’ll—”
Hearing the doorbell ring, they both stilled.
Elle’s face brightened, and she let her arms fall to her sides. “Finally! An excuse to stop for just a minute.”
Snickering, Bree placed her roller on the paint tray. “Lightweight.” She headed downstairs with Elle trailing after her. As Bree opened the door, Paxton’s parents and his twin brother flashed her broad grins.
“Hello, sweetheart,” said Bernadette, her smile bright. “We just wanted to see how you were getting along with all the redecorating.”
They’d stopped by once before, offering to help, but Bree had politely shut that down. The Cages would only do what they’d done when she’d first moved in—advise her on what Paxton would like. Bernadette did not believe her son was anything but alive, well, and intending to return.
Even as her cat rumbled a disapproving growl, Bree stepped aside to let the trio pass. “It’s all going great, thanks.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Ruben, Paxton’s father.
Calvin entered last, his amber eyes twinkling. Although he was Paxton’s identical twin, many things set them apart, particularly their temperaments. Unlike his brother, Calvin was the life and soul of every party. Very smooth and silver-tongued. He was easy to like and talk to, but her cat didn’t like being around him purely because he shared the same scent as Paxton, who she’d happily claw to death.
Their styles also differed. Calvin wore fashionable clothes and shiny, expensive shoes. He also had a light mustache and a well-groomed beard. He kept one side of his hair extra short while the rest was longer and casually swept over the other side of his head. His tattoo sleeves gave his business-casual look an edge that suited him.