Page 43 of Insincerely Yours
What the fuck?
No, seriously. What the fuck?
Bury the hatchet?
The only place that hatchet will wind up is in one of our backs. Considering the bullshit he just pulled in the dining room, siccing Sienna on me, it’s not exactly like he’s proven he can act in good faith.
I settle for giving him the bird with one hand as I tip back my bottle with the other.
All I want is a buzz to numb the anger and hurt brewing within me, and having to endure Jase right now is only fueling the need. I wind up downing at least half the bottle before he comes over and literally pries the beer from my hands.
“I suggest slowing down there, pilgrim,” he says lowly, holding the bottle back out of arm’s reach. “For your own good.”
I laugh, but it’s devoid of any amusement. “Like you’ve ever given a fuck about what’sgoodfor me.”
I turn around and open the fridge again to grab another beer when the door swiftly shuts on me. Looking up, I find Jase’s hand pressed into the top of it, and the damn thing doesn’t budge as I yank futilely on the handle.
“Fuck off,” I snarl.
His weight doesn’t give, even after I try shoving him back.
Damn, the guy’s built like a brick wall.
He’s close enough now for me to reclaim the stolen beer in his hands, but he seems to sense my next move before I can act on it. I lunge for the bottle, and he promptly dodges the attempt while also managing to cut in front of me and the refrigerator. Jase haughtily leans back against the door, placing the open bottle on top of the appliance, well out of my reach.
“Stop being such a dick and just give me back my beer,” I demand.
He smirks. “It’s notyours.”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you buy it?” His grin spreads further across his cheeks, and I want nothing more than to slap it off his face.
“No, but this ismyhouse, ergo—”
“This isn’t your house either. You don’t pay the mortgage. You simply live under the roof,ergoyou don’t have any claimof ownership.” He reaches up and retrieves the beer, taking a healthy swig of his own.
“I live here, meaning I at least havemoreentitlement than you do,” I shoot back.
Jase slowly lowers the bottle from his lips, seeming to contemplate the statement.
He runs his pointer finger down the bridge of my nose before I slap it away. “Let’s see how we can remedy that, shall we?”
He chuckles under his breath as he pushes off the fridge, heading back over to his spaghetti-piled plate before his gaze suddenly draws down toward my chest.
“Excuse me.” I snap my fingers at his face. “There’s nothing down there for you.”
My breath catches in my throat as Jase actually has the gall to reach out. I try to back up, but my ass hits the end of the kitchen island. To my surprise and relief, he takes hold of the chain to my necklace. The bottom of it is hidden beneath my neckline, and he pulls up the chain until it reveals the skeleton key pendant dangling at the end.
A gift from Reed.
Jase’s grin falters for a moment as he thumbs the ornament. “Suits you.”
And just like that, his smug demeanor returns as he snatches up a bread roll and takes a happy helping.
He cocks his head back over to the door to the dining room as he grabs his plate. “See you in there.”
I can’t help but remain stock-still by the encounter. What is he planning onremedying, and what the hell is with that shit-eating grin?
