Page 21 of Living Hell

“Think about it—”

“I said no.” I moved toward the stairs and had no idea why. Maybe if I removed myself as far as I could, the idea would die a horrible death.

I jogged up the creaky wooden steps and heard her footsteps behind me.

“Why are you following me?”

“Why are you running away?”

I turned when I got to the master bedroom, noticing the large bed already made inside.

“Because that idea was the worst and you know why it’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I do.” She glanced at the floor. “I just thought if I convinced Babette, who I’m supposed to meet with tomorrow for lunch, that we were in love—”

“After less than a day?”

Her expression was one of doubt, but she pushed the idea. “Some couples in Hollywood have gotten engaged within minutes of meeting. Complete fact.” She held up her finger as if that made this idea any less ludicrous.

“Did they ever get married?” I folded my arms and waited for more of her absurd facts.

“No, but that’s not the—”

I held up my hand and moved into the bedroom, turning to close the door. Just before I shut it, she said, “Neither will we.”

“Of course, we won’t. You wanna know why? Because I haven’t proposed, you haven’t proposed. That means no one standing in this house will be marrying the other person standing in this house.”

Closing the door, I locked it and sat on the edge of the bed. It was soft, but with some firmness. This was a quality mattress and about the only good thing in the house right now.

There was a beep coming from the hallway, but I ignored it. I wanted to stay in this room forever. The world couldn’t get me in here. No home buying mishaps or unusual rental agreements or seductive actresses who caused my cock to go rogue.

She knocked on the door.

“Go away,” I yelled and then flopped back on the cool, silky lavender bedspread.

Go away and let me live in denial for a bit, surrounded by soft comfy goodness.

“Tyler, there’s a problem.”

“No shit, Iona. Tell me something new.”

For once, she did something she had never done before, even when we were kids—she listened to me. I heard her feet putter down the steps. After a minute, there was a loud slam of the front door.

She actually left. My grin was so wide, it hurt.

With a push, I leaped out of bed. I had my home back. I wondered if locksmiths made emergency house calls on a Saturday. I’d pay the person double if they changed it within the hour.

Opening the door, I skipped with an eager step down the stairs and almost fell. Grabbing the railing, I glanced to the door. Iona stood in front staring.

“You tricked me.”

How could I have fallen for such a simple deception?

With a quick turn of her head, which caused her dark locks to fly through the air, she put a finger up to her lips.

A chill went down my back. Something was off. Her eyes flashed with fear. Did someone want to hurt her?

I stepped off the staircase and whispered, “Is someone out there?”

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