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“Colton has lied for Jude in the past and his parents are well aware of it. They’re not going to believe a word he says, especially when the whole of Bellevue Springs knows that you and Mr. Carrington share a … connection.”
Connection my ass.
I scoff. “So, you’re saying that there’s nothing I can do about it? I just have to sit back and let that bastard get away with it? I don’t think so.”
“I didn’t say that at all,” he murmurs, stepping away. “The opportunity will present itself and when it does, I trust you will make it count.”
Damn fucking straight I will.
I don’t respond, but I don’t need to. My confirmation is written all over my face. “That’s what I thought,” Harrison says. “Now, you’ve already wasted the morning away. I’d suggest that you hurry along and get started on the Carrington’s private kitchen and living area.”
I nod and he gracefully slips away, somehow making it seem like he was never there in the first place. I take a few deep breaths, desperately trying to calm myself and pull back the need to chase after Colton and put both him and Jude’s mother in their place. I find myself watching his back, keeping my eyes trained on the tight muscles beneath his shirt as he practically pushes Mrs. Carter through the door.
He turns around once she’s gone and his eyes lift from the ground, zoning straight in on me and it’s almost as though he knew I was here all along. He walks toward me, not once taking his eyes off of mine. I find myself sucking in a breath and holding it, for some reason scared to step out of line.
His eyes narrow with every passing second until he finally passes me and is gone without a single word between us.
Why the hell did that feel so damn intense?
I shake it off, feeling like an idiot for allowing him to get to me. He’s probably just pissed and hungover after the bullshit from last night, then add the whole listening in on his private conversation thing. Yeah, I’d probably be a little sour myself.
I try to put it to the back of my mind and take myself into the kitchen and look around. The room is a fucking mess. Like it’s not just untidy with a few leftover bottles and scattered red cups, it’s trashed. The furniture is out of place, the floors are sticky as shit, the pool looks like it’s only half filled, while there’s a disgusting smell coming from the back half of the room.
Great. Just fucking great.
I let out a heavy sigh and start working out my game plan before getting stuck into it.
I get halfway through when my phone rings and I glance down to find it well and truly after three in the afternoon. Milo’s name is flashing on my screen. “Hey, Husband. What’s going on?”
“Ugh. Why are you so chirpy at this time of the morning?”
“Morning?” I question. “It’s after three in the afternoon. Are you only just getting out of bed?”
“Uh-huh,” he grumbles, his voice filled with sleep. “I, uh … you busy?”
“Kinda. I have to clean up after the party. The place is trashed. You should see this shit. It’s freaking insane.”
Milo scoffs out a laugh but it doesn’t sound convincing. “Welcome to a real Bellevue Springs party. Where the rich pricks have never had to clean up after themselves or bother respecting other people’s things.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I grumble.
“Yeah,” he says. “Can you talk while you’re cleaning?”
I pull my phone away from my ear and hit the speakerphone before I grab a trash bag and start making my way around the pool, collecting all the littered cups as I go. “Yeah, what’s up? You kinda disappeared last night.”
“Yeah … about that …”
Milo trails off and I’m left staring down at my phone, desperate to hear what’s about to come out of his mouth. “You can’t just leave it at that. What happened? One second you were showing Jess the time of her life in the pool and the next thing I knew, you were gone.”
“Ifuckedher,” he rushes out.
“WHAT?”
“I fucked her, okay?” he says, sounding sick to his stomach. “I fucked her and it was … I don’t know. It was fucking weird.”
“Wait. Hold on. Go back. You did what to that poor girl?” I demand, unable to keep the laugh out of my tone. “How the hell did that even happen? You know she’s a chick, right? With tits and a tight little pussy.”
“SHUT UP,” he yells. “Stop reminding me. I don’t even know how this happened. We were in the pool and so fucking drunk and her coochie was pressed up against my man bits and it was just … ready to go.”
“Dude …”
“Don’t,” he groans. “I don’t know what to do.”
