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My former house. Damn it.
“No, I’m not lying,” I huff as they both let out relieved breaths and move down the rest of the stairs. “Unless you count the machete behind my back, the pocketknife down the front of my shirt, and butter knife I hid in the rocks at the bottom of the Flounders’ tank.”
Cindy stops abruptly on the bottom step and Belle smacks into her, both of them staring at me with wide eyes.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to stab you. For now. If you make any other decisions for me in the next hour, all bets are off,” I warn them.
They continue into the room, staring around in awe at the furnishings. I can’t blame them. After Eric carried all of my boxes onto the boat and offered to give me a tour, I turned him down and told him I was perfectly capable of walking around a damn boat and figuring out where things were. I never made it past the living room. I’ve been sitting here in the middle of the floor hugging my fish tank to my chest for the last few hours, wondering what in the hell I was doing.
I’ve never lived in something so fancy. So clean and neat and . . . lavish. Plush, cream carpeting; black marble; shiny mahogany; and chandeliers. I was afraid to touch anything. Or sit on anything other than the floor. I didn’t belong here.
“This place is insane. Holy shit, Ariel. You hit the jackpot,” Cindy says when she finishes walking around the living room.
Actually, it’s part living room, part dining room, part bar. Behind the giant cream-leather L-shaped couch that faces a huge, marble, electric fireplace with a giant flat-screen TV hanging above it is a table that seats eight, with fancy-looking high-back chairs and eight equally fancy place settings in front of each. Next to the fireplace and against the wall is a bar with black marble countertops that seats six. A built-in floor-to ceiling cabinet behind the bar is filled with every shape of cocktail glasses you can imagine, all made of crystal.
Like I said, lavish.
“I can’t believe you guys are here. I figured you’d still be busy moving. Or changing your names and going into the witness protection program because you feared for your lives after what you did to me.” I glare at them.
Cindy and Belle move into the middle of the room, both of them flopping down on the floor with me.
“Actually, we were going to give you more time to cool off, but Eric sent a text to PJ and Vincent and said we should come over immediately because, and I quote: That hell on wheels needs her girls. Don’t tell her I said that though. She knows where I live now,” Belle informs me with a laugh.
Damn it. Damn that man to hell and back.
“He’s such an asshole,” I grumble.
“I think he’s a sweetheart. And I’m pretty sure I had an orgasm watching the way he looked at you today, and flirted with you, and how he knew exactly what to do to get you to snap out of it,” Cindy says.
“Whatever. He’s a manwhore who flirts with everyone.”
“He doesn’t flirt with me,” Belle pipes up.
“Me either. He only has eyes for you,” Cindy adds.
As much as I hate to admit it, since the day I met Eric Sailor, he hasn’t so much as glanced in my friends’ directions. And they’re smoking hot. Their boyfriends would probably chop off his balls if he so much as blinked in the general vicinity of them, but Eric doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would give a shit about that. If he wants something, he’ll take it.
“I would absolutely fuck you, I’d be honored to marry you. . . .”
Uuuugghh why am I even thinking about this?
“All right, we’re not talking about Eric anymore. Eric is officially off the table for discussion forever and ever. I want nothing to do with him aside from using him to keep a roof over my head for the time being,” I tell them.
“Sweetie, if you don’t want to stay here, you don’t have to,” Cindy says gently.
“Who says I don’t want to stay here? Have you seen this place? Of course I want to stay here. It’s fine. I’m totally fine,” I ramble.
“Ariel, you’re sitting on the floor hugging a fish tank, and it looks like you’ve been here for a while. We don’t want you to be somewhere that you aren’t comfortable. We just want what’s best for you, and if this isn’t it, then we’ll fix it. We never should have let Eric talk us into this. It just sounded like such a great idea, you having your own place and all and not having to feel weird living with one of us,” Belle explains.
