Page 21 of Over & Out

“You know what? Maybe you’re right,” Chris says to me.

“Damn straight I’m right.” I scrunch my brows. About what, though?

“I don’t see how this is possibly going to work. Not when you’re too goddamned entitled to see that your incredible assistant wants the best for you. Not that I have any earthly idea why.”

Adrian holds his hand out to Mabel, who slips the hundred back.

Heat fists my insides. “Okay, then. Sorry for the trouble. We’ll see you later.”

Chris’s mouth falls open, real hurt crossing her expression. I have to look away, because I can’t handle the way that pinches something deep behind my ribs.

“Hopper!” Tru says. Tru has many different voices. I know them all. I listen to them all. But for the first time in a long time, she sounds genuinely upset. She sets her hands before her in a prayer gesture. “Everyone, can we have the room, please?” She reaches out and holds on to Chris’s arm. “Not you.”

The rest of them sigh and march out to the back deck. I press my fingers to my hips, look to the ceiling, and brace myself for Tru to yell at me. It’s what she does when she gets super pissed.

But she doesn’t yell. When I look back down at her, she’s staring at me, cool as a cucumber. Then she points a finger. “Hopper Donnach. If you don’t give Chris a chance, you’re going to have no one when I’m gone. And I’m going next week, whether you like it or not.”

“Next week?” Her stomach looks big, but I have no idea how pregnant people work.

“Yes, next week.”

“So we still have a week.”

“No, you idiot! We don’t have a week!”Nowshe’s yelling. And god dammit, it looks like she might cry. My heart sinks like a stone. If I had a sister, I imagine she’d be like Tru. An absolute pain in my ass who I love the shit out of.

I panic, just a little. I think that’s what makes me fold. That and the expression on Chris’s face. For making Trualmost cry, she looks at me like I came out of a bird’s ass and splattered into her lemonade.

“Okay. Fine!” I snap. “We’ll do it, okay?” I look at Chris. “Okay?”

“Thanks so much for giving me a chance.”

“You’re wel—” Then I get she’s being sarcastic. I grit my teeth. “Listen, I obviously can’t force you to stay. But Tru?—”

“No.” She takes a step forward, and I can’t help but be impressed, even in the midst of this shitstorm. She’s short. Tiny, almost. But she has the presence of a club bouncer. “Tru is the only reason I’m still here. Theonlyreason.” She looks calm as hell. But there—right there, at the soft, pale curve of her throat again, her pulse flashes. Her cheeks, too, have gone a rosy shade that, under any other circumstances, I might find cute. More than cute. Fucking hot. And suddenly, I remember something else. That morning, I couldn’t tell whether she was pissing me off or turning me on. Now that I can properly take her in, I have to concede it could have gone either way. She’s pretty, but not in that sculpted Hollywood way. Everything about Chris is kind of off from perfect: A slightly crooked nose, like she broke it as a kid. More freckles on one side of that nose than the other. Teeth a little too big for her mouth. A mole right in her hairline. And that hair—fuck. It’s dirty blond, but with a hint of strawberry in it. Though it falls just past her shoulders, it’s not neat and tidy. It’s rumpled. Like she just rolled out of bed. I picture her hopping into her clothes, cursing, splashing coffee on thecounter.

The image is somehow more intimate than anything actually intimate.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, is there something on my face?” Chris asks, the words slapping me back to reality. She’s sexy, cute as hell, and quick-minded, since she has a goddamned comeback for everything. But she has the personality of a pissed-off mongoose.

“Just your face,” I say happily, knowing Tru’s going to kill me for saying it.

That face goes hard. Then she says, “Nope.” She pops theP. “Sorry, Tru. I tried, I really did.”

And then? Then she walks the fuck out.

Chapter 7

Chris

Iwork hard not to slam the front door, feeling both enraged and like an absolute fool for going along with this. It took me a minute to find my shoes and coat because Cindi had neatly stashed them for me. While searching for them, I heard the muffled sounds of a heated argument going on behind Hopper’s door, presumably between Tru and the man himself. Now, on the front step of this massive, gorgeous beach house, I can hear the rest of them on the side deck. They’re laughing, the sound carrying easily to the front, thanks to the trees on that side of the property. I even catch a glimpse as I reach the edge of the drive.

They look like one big, happy family.

It wouldn’t be the first time I was on the outside looking in. Not by a long shot. That part isn’t Hopper’s fault, just salt on an old wound. But the fact that I’m leaving sure is his fault.

Stupid, entitled asshole. I don’t care who he is. As I move and they leave my line of sight, I’m very temptedto kick the rosebush I’m passing. But I won’t injure innocent roses over an asinine man. I’d probably hurt myself anyway, which would be an oh-so-graceful finish.

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