Page 64
But if he can break the rules, fuck it, so can I.
“Make sure your cat doesn’t eat my kid,” I say, raising my brows when I spot the cat in question. Eleanor. I’ve heard of her, and she is…
Well, she’s not pretty. I expected Emery to have some big, majestic, fluffy thing, not a cat that looks like she doesn’t realize she’s supposed to be dead.
“You cannot just come into my apartment, Dillon,” he hisses, following me towards the bathroom. I inhale before pushing open the bathroom door. “Dillon, don’t ignore me.”
I bark a laugh, “Are you serious? Me ignoring you?” I only glance back at him before moving into the small space. I’m not surprised by the powder pink towels or the gold accent decorations. The crystal soap dispenser, the ornate toothbrush holder. I’m also not surprised by the disaster on the counters. Makeup everywhere, lotion bottles, perfume. There are clothes in a pile in the corner, but a neat stack of towels on the open cupboard shelf.
Emery is a type A personality locked up in a type B mind. He wants order and control, but just can’t help being a little chaotic.
“Emerson, why is the water so high up in the tub?”
I look back, but he’s not there. I hear Penny giggling from down the hall. Emery says something, but that just makes her laugh louder. Pretty sure she has something he doesn’t want her to have, and they’re now locked in a chase.
I smirk, squatting down in front of the cabinet under the sink. Every hair tool that’s ever been created seems to be under here. Bottles upon bottles of aerosol cans of hairspray, dry shampoo… I rustle through it all until I find a bottle of drain cleaner shoved in the back.
It takes me five minutes to get the hair snake free from the drain, with it coming up enough hair to make a whole goddamn wig. I clean it off, tossing the hair in the trash before going back for more. The water starts draining after the third snake, and I wait for it to drain completely before dumping some of the drain cleaner down the pipe.
“What’s taking so long?” Emery sounds a bit breathless, a little unhinged.
He also looks fucking good with Penny on his hip.
Penny, who has red lipstick all over her face. Emery smirks, pleased with himself when I quirk a brow at him.
“You’ve gotta try not to let all the hair go down the drain.”
“My drain, my business.”
“Was it not me snaking your drain, Emerson?”
He gasps, setting Penny down. He watches her run back towards the living room before growling at me.
“Was that a sexual reference?”
“Did it feel like a sexual reference?” I ask, washing my hands in the sink. His soap smells like frosted sugar cookies or some shit, and I dry them on a towel I find half under a hairbrush and makeup palette.
“Dillon,” he hisses when I step towards the doorway he’s still hovering in. I look down at him, specifically his mouth, and run my teeth over my bottom lip.
“Emery,” I say softly, silently watching the red bloom on his cheeks, then I smirk and move around him once again.
He follows me.
Penny is circling around Eleanor, probably wondering why the cat doesn’t look like any cat she’s ever seen before.
“Your cat is fucking hideous.”
Emery crosses his arms again, stiffly sitting on the end of his couch. “She’s not my cat.”
“Right,” I laugh, and then I sit my ass on the cushion next to him and get a heavy dose of satisfaction when Emery’s breath shakes when my knee knocks with his.
“You can go now,” he murmurs, both of us watching Penny.
“I could,” I murmur back.
Penny squats in front of the cat, covers her eyes with her hands for a whole one and a half seconds, then drops them and yells, “boo,” in Eleanor’s face. The cat meows, flicking her tail before getting up and walking away.
I know what’s coming next. Emery does not.
