Page 26 of Endgame

“Christ,” I muttered dryly. She was such a drama queen. “You do realize that it’s just a TV show, right?”

Six leapt off the couch, still clutching her chest. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” she half growled, half sobbed as she hurried out of the room.

What the fuck was I living with?

And why the hell was she making me smile?

Mercedes

WHY THE HELL WAS he making me so nervous?

Over the weeks, I had grown accustomed to feeling disgust and loathing whenever I was in Rourke’s’ presence, but this nervous anxiety I had pumping through my veins tonight? Not so much.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was dressed only in a pair of tight black boxer shorts and I had the best possible view of his tight as hell butt.

Or maybe it was him standing half naked in my bedroom that was causing me so many issues?

Either way, I was a nervous freaking wreck.

“Are you deaf?” Rourke demanded, snapping me out of my daydream. “Or did you really not hear a damn thing I’ve just said?”

I hadn’t been listening to him; I’d been too busystaringat him. Clearing my throat, I looked up at him and said, “Actually no. I wasn’t listening to you. I was too busy trying to work out what the hell you’re doing in my room.”

“You wanna get pissy with me?” He was staring at me, his blue eyes boring into mine with so much heat I could hardly stand the intensity. “Seriously?”

“What do you want, Rourke?” I was in no mood to fight with him tonight, especially when he was almost naked. It felt like he had some twisted advantage over me. Those cut muscles wielded a sick power over me and I was disgusted with myself for it. Goddamn, every part of that boy’s body was chiseled andhard.

“Dad called,” he reeled off impatiently. “He and your mother are spending the night in Tampa.” Shrugging, he added, “Wanted me to let you know.”

Tampa. I shifted onto my knees. “Why?”

Rourke glared at me. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Okay,” I bit out, choking down the sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue.Asshole. “Why didn’t Mom call me herself?”

“Again,” he shot back flatly. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Fine.” I threw my hands up in defeat. “Whatever. You’ve told me, so you can leave now, Rourke.”

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he continued to stand in the doorway of my room, looking too freaking good to be true.

“What?” I snapped, feeling the blood rush to my face from his weighted stare.

Rourke tipped his head to one side, studying me. “What are you doing?”

I looked down at the scissors and newspaper clippings on my bed and shrugged. “I’m couponing.”

“Couponing?” Rourke raised a brow. “What the hell is couponing?”

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. Rich prick. “It’s something us normal folk do,” I replied sweetly. “You know, in order to keep the wolves from the door.” When he continued to stand there, I grew impatient. “You can go now.”

Of course, he didn’t do that. Walking over to my bed, Rourke sank down on the edge and grabbed my folder of neatly organized clippings. “So, how does this work?”

“Why do you care?” I replied, confused.

He looked at me and offered me a rueful smile. “Just show me.”

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