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And my old, boring life back.
Scarlet cranes her head up to me. She’s at least seven inches shorter than I am since we’re both wearing heels. She winks at me again and cackles. “Welcome to our world, Azalea. Even if you’re not staying in it for long, it’s a real ride.”
CHAPTER 5
Alden
I’m not sure how Granny did it, but she convinced my not-so-captivated captive of a fiancé to have a bath. Granny didn’t even wait until the water started running upstairs. She got on the phone right away and ordered an ‘unspoiled, unadulterated, hold the anchovies, not disgusting, non-abomination of a not-so-disastrous pizza.’
After Granny gets off the phone, she gives me a look that is both scathing, hopeful, and exhausted. “Unless you can get your fanny to the mall and buy a fresh set of clothes, I’d suggest hoofing it upstairs to your room to find something she can slip into after that bath. Something that isn’t going to fall off when she takes a step.”
The guys are sitting at the table, engaged in some rousing board game or other. They love board games. I swear that’s all they spend their free time doing.
“I’m on it,” I grumble and stalk upstairs.
Seaside, Florida, is a quaint little resort town. The houses here are expensive, for the most part, and utterly charming. The weather here is spectacular, and it’s a hot tourist draw. There is definitely a sense of community here, as there is in small towns. The population is under eleven thousand here. A person would think that would make it hard to hide, but it’s not true. At least, Granny and I haven’t found that to be the case.
You see, I told Little Miss Flower Fiancé that I got a package for my twenty-eighth birthday. What I didn’t tell her was that my big two eight was nearly ten months ago. Yes, that’s right. Ten. Months. Ten months of careful planning went into this. It included buying not one but two obscenely expensive houses, one for Granny and one for me. We wanted to do this right and observe carefully. Once I found out that Azalea was living a charmed life, having never left her adoptive parents or Seaside, the town became our home base. We weren’t going to let close to two billion dollars—and that’s after splitting it in half between Azalea and me—slip through our fingers.
The house isn’t a palace by any means. It’s old, which made it more expensive than a new build. I suppose history carries a hefty price tag. The basement is stone, and the outside features the same charming river rock above painted blue brick. It’s only two stories high, but it has four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and all the old-school charm of golden radiators (now defunct), claw foot bathtubs, tiled fireplaces, oak woodwork, original thin plank blonde hardwood floors, and stained glass windows. The house really is nice. I’ll be sad to sell it when I leave.
Plus, it’s nice here. I love that I can see the beach and the sea from my bedroom window. Key Largo is no-joke-level gorgeous. I’m sure Granny will miss it too. While we were here, it was almost like we were living a normal life.
Almost.
I banish any and all emotion that might be viewed as sappy as I storm into my room. I manage to find a pair of sweats, complete with a drawstring, as per command, and a T-shirt that will probably go down to Azalea’s knees.
The bathroom is down the hall, and I approach the wood panel door with caution. When I’m close, I can hear the splash of water and a gentle hum that hits me right in the balls. Well, not entirely in the balls. My dick also stands up and pays homage to that sweet, pretty sound. I have to swallow hard before I knock lightly on the door. The humming abruptly stops, but my dick is still doing a full-on happy dance in my pants, resulting in a tent large enough to camp a family of eight.
Mice.
Not that I want mice camping in my pants. Sweet shit, I do not want rodents south of the border. Or anywhere else.
“What?” The voice is sharp, and I can hear the strain behind it. She’s not used to being mean. She clearly finds it hard, so I take encouragement from that.
“Uh, Granny told me to leave you a change of clothes. I’ll…I’m doing that. Just outside the door.”
Silence. The only answer I get is silence. Well, what did I expect? A happy-ass thank you? Yeah, not so much. Azalea isn’t going to forget that I’m the one who blazed into her life and wrecked her perfect, sunshiny little world anytime soon. I’m the dark cloud on her horizon, the storm, the poo in her life. The poo storm? Raining turds? Ugh, that’s going a mite far.
