Page 137 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“It will take a lot more than dinner for me to forgive you for this.” My voice shakes as I point to my head.
Piper pulls back her shoulders and meets my gaze. The pink is gone from her cheeks. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am willing to negotiate a treaty.”
“A treaty?” I close the distance she’s put between us, tempted by the power I have to make her blush.
Her eyes drop to my chest and the droplet of water inching its way to my abdomen. I wipe it away. She follows my every movement.
“A treaty.” She swallows hard and walks her gaze back to my face. “Over dinner, you can think about all the reasons why you should sign that deed. After it’s signed, I’ll tell you every prank I’ve put in place, and we can call this little war quits.”
Put in place? She’s got things already in place?
I’m tempted to tell Piper that Dad’s ordered me to kick her out. I only let her stay because I’m a good guy and I felt bad for her.
With a hard glare, I lean in. We’re close enough I can count out every shade of brown in her eyes…but I can’t make the truth about why she’s still here come out. “I was trying to make this easy for both of us, but if you want things to be difficult, I can make them difficult. I don’t quit, Piper.”
She frowns at me, and I curl my hands into fists to keep from running my thumb over her bottom lip.
“You might want to dry your hair before you have purple sideburns.” Her voice is low. Menacing. And too damn sexy.
My hands fly to the sides of my face. I wipe away the water and look at my purple-stained fingertips. With a growl, I grab my plate and carry it upstairs without thanking her. When I glimpse my purple hair in my bedroom mirror, I have no regrets about not being polite.
I set my plate on my desk and glare at the food. It looks good, but I’m still not sure I can trust her.
Actually, I know I can’t trust her.
My stomach growls again. She’s made steak covered in butter with a side of roasted veggies that smell delicious, too. I haven’t had a good home-cooked meal since before Dex and Britta left for Fiji. And steak—which I love—was never on Dex’s approved menu, so we rarely had it. I ordered this meal specifically for me.
By the time I get my trackies on, I’ve decided it’s worth the risk of being poisoned to try the food. But I ring Frankie first, just in case I need someone to call 911.
And also, because she might have an idea of how to get the purple out of my hair.
Of course, my sister wouldn’t be my sister if she wasn’t completely useless when I most need her help. Her first response after I tell her what’s happened is to burst into laughter.
“Piper dyed your hair purple?” she asks through her giggling. I put her on speaker so I can eat the steak, which is as good as it smelled.
“It’s not funny, Frankie.” My phone buzzes, and I check the screen. “And I’m not switching to FaceTime, so stop trying.”
“Come on, Arch! I need to see it if I’m going to help!”
I growl and accept her FaceTime call. Seconds after we connect, her laughter shifts to full-on howling.
“Is this you helping?” I ask her, refusing to see any humor in what Piper’s done to my hair.
“No. This is me laughing, but I promise I’ll help as soon as I can stop.”
“I’m hanging up now. Call me when you’re done adding to my humiliation.”
“No! Wait! I’m done!”
I stop my finger millimeters from the end call button. “Laugh again, and you’re dead to me.”
Frankie scoffs. “You wouldn’t last a day without me.”
“True,” I say reluctantly. “Now help me fix this, please.”
“I just texted Juan.”
“Did you tell him what happened?”
