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Sean turned at the gruff, loud voice. Bart Endicott stood in the door, his thick face red and mottled.
It never ceased to baffle him. How that fanged bitch and that pompous blowhard had managed between them to produce the princess would forever remain one of the great unsolved mysteries of genetics.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “I saw them when I came in. But I was just leaving. Good night, everyone.”
“You might as well wait where you are. We’ll be pressing charges for breaking and entering.” Amelia Endicott’s voice dripped acid.
“No, Mother.” Liv’s voice was soft, but resolute. “There was no breaking or entering. I invited him in. You can call off the police.”
Everyone turned horrified eyes on Liv. Sean did not envy her in that moment. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared back.
Wow. He practically blushed. He didn’t deserve that kind of support, after his raving asshole routine. That woman was pure class.
“That’s hardly appropriate for an engaged woman, dear,” Amelia said loudly. “I imagine you told Sean your happy news?”
Sean looked at her. His chest cavity had just been flash frozen.
She blinked. “But I—I’m not—”
“Come on, honey,” Blair said. “We can’t keep it a secret forever.”
“We were thinking early fall,” Amelia said. “Of course, this awful business might force us to reconsider the timing. Such a shame.”
It took a minute for him to coordinate his vocal apparatus. “Uh, yeah.” He looked into Liv’s big, startled gray eyes. “I’m amazed you didn’t share something so important earlier in our, ah, conversation.”
“But I’m not—”
“Liv’s shy about it,” Amelia broke in. “But thank goodness we all have something to be happy about in these difficult days, hmm?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Uh, great. Be happy, then. Watch your back, princess.”
He was out the door. Walking blindly up the driveway towards the gate. He had to stop and explain himself to the cops that were parked outside, which was a challenge, since he couldn’t concentrate clearly enough to make any sense. All he could think about was Liv.
Engaged. Jesus Christ.
Madden finally came out the door, called the cops off, waved him on out. Just to get rid of his sorry ass. Smug toad.
The big wrought-iron gate ground open for him. He took off down the road towards his truck, dazed. He’d done every last damn thing Davy had advance-scolded him for. Breaking and entering, planting tracking devices, ill-advised sex. The Endicotts could nail his ass to the wall, if they found the beacons. Wallet, suitcase, purse, he’d even slit open the soles of Liv’s sandals. The burrs were traceable to SafeGuard, so he’d compromised Seth and Davy as well. He’d risked his freedom and his brother’s professional reputation for a chance of keeping track of Liv for the next few days.
And for the wildest, most explosive sex he’d ever had.
He stumbled in the dark. Ran his hands over the stinging marks on his shoulders and ass. Fuck-me-harder marks. Wildcat woman.
He would wear them like a badge. Be sorry when they healed.
Tomorrow, they would take Liv off to someplace where neither he nor T-Rex would ever be able to find her—and the world would go flat.
Unless she called the number he’d put into her cell.
He stopped in his tracks on the dark road, the huge dark pine and fir trees rustling in the cool wind and thought about that.
Screwing Blair Madden’s fiancée. That’s what he’d just done. He made himself face it. He imagined Liv, going home after she showered off the evidence. Thinking about her secret lover while she did her wifely duty in bed. His stomach lurched. He would never survive that.
She had to be doing the guy already, if they were engaged. His imagination promptly offered up fully realized 3-D images of that worthless turd Blair, having at her. And Liv, letting him. Liking it.
Bad idea. He hung over the roadside ditch and hacked up gastric juices, fists clenched, eyes watering. Oh, that was foul. He was a flexible guy, but that level of emotional gymnastics was not in his repertoire.
Hypocrite. Like he had a right to be uptight about Liv screwing whoever she pleased. He’d worked through six condoms—or was it seven?—in a tequila haze with the fuckbunny duo from the Hole.
