Page 37 of Mr. Wrong
“Hell yes,” she crows, giving me a grin. “You fuckedLandon Trask’sbrother, so genetically speaking, you had like 25% of Landon Trask’s penis inside you—it’s science.”
“That is not how genetics work,” I say, laughing at how utterly ridiculous she is. As soon as the laughter dies down, she levels me with a pointed look.
“Derek called me this morning,” she tells me, her gaze shifting toward the door we’re both waiting for Lex to walk through because even though I told him to wait for me downstairs, we both know he won’t listen. “Your mother gave him my number—why didn’t you tell me he was texting you?”
“I don’t know… I guess because you don’t like him.” It’s a lie. A big, fat lie and I can’t look at her while I tell it because the truth of it is that I didn’t tell her that Derek was texting me because I was afraid if I did, Dani would encourage me to go back to him. That despite all of her teasing and the fact that she always told me I could do better than him, that funny, fearless, beautiful, vivacious Dani would remind me that I am none of those things. That I’m the human equivalent of vanilla pudding, just like Derek, and that vanilla puddings should stick together. “What did you tell him?”
She cocks a rusty brown eyebrow at me and smirks. “That I haven’t seen you since you went home on the back of a motorcycle with the hottest guy at the bar.”
“Jesus…” I feel my cheeks go up in flames even as a strange thrill passes through me at the memory because I did that. I climbed on the back of Lex’s bike and let him take me home without even knowing his last name. “This is a mess, Dan—a huge,messymess.”
“Why?” That smirk on her face falls into a frown. “You’re not actually thinking about goingbackto that toolbox, are you?”
“No.” I shake my head, wincing at the defensive squeal in my tone. “No—I’m not. No way.”
Are you sure about that, Elle?
Wouldn’t it be better if you just packed it in and gave up? Went back to Mr. Vanilla Pudding before you get yourself hurt?
You could be in New York by this time tomorrow. Back with Derek, where you belong.
Dani throws a nervous glance at the open front door and the sound of Lex coming up the stairs. She knows I’m lying but doesn’t have the time to confront me about it so instead, she just sighs. “Are you going to be okay?”
I give her a reassuring nod and stand. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her, reaching for Morris when he follows suit, walking the length of Dani’s sofa to bat at my hand—his signal to me to pick him up. “I’ll be better than fine. It’s only for the summer,” I remind her and myself at the same time, hefting my overweight cat into my arms and holding him against me like a shield. “After that, I’ll be able to put this whole thing,and Derek, behind me.”
Twenty-Six
Lex
Traffic was justas bad coming as it was going, so we don’t get home until well after dark. Ellenore just sat in her seat the entire time, knees turned ever so slightly away from me, with her gaze aimed out the passenger side window while her giant orange cat lounged on her lap and glared at me with baleful, yellow eyes.
“What’s his name?”
“He’s sitting right here,” she says without looking at me. “Ask him yourself.”
Because we’re, once again, at a dead stop on the 405, I laugh and play along. “What’s your name?” I ask the cat, giving him a quick chin jerk for good measure.
The cat turns its head, looks up at her and lets out a plaintive meow.
“Not if you don’t want to,” she answers back with a bland smile and a shrug.
Then they both go back to ignoring me.
As soon aswe pull through the gate and I kill the engine, she scoops up her cat and bolts from the car. Circling to the back of the SUV, she yanks the hatch open and sets the cat down to start dragging her suitcases across the cargo area and juggling boxes before I even have a chance to unfasten my seatbelt.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter it out loud, the curse drown out by the heavy slam of my door. “Just go inside. I’ll get—” I round the back of the SUV to find her practically buried under a pile of suitcases and cardboard boxes because she clearly intends to carry it all herself. Angrier about the situation than I have a right to be, I jerk the box of books out of her grip and toss it back into the cargo hold. “Will you just wait a goddamn—”
“Fuck you,” she sputters it at me, the curse spreading an ugly red stain across her chest and neck.
“Excuse me?” I move closer. “What did you just say to me?” I ask her, wrapping my hand around the strap of her tote bag to pull it off her shoulder. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.” I’d bet my life she can count the number of times she’s said the wordfuckout loud on one hand and that more than half of those times have been since she met me.
“You heard me just fine,” she says, making a small, helpless sound in the back of her throat while I relieve her of her bag. “I saidfuck you.” She reaches for the bag I just took from her and aims a glare almost as baleful as her cat’s in my direction when I move it out of her reach. “Fuck you, Lex,” she seethes at me. “I know you don’t want me here—I get it,trust me, I get it—but I need this job.” She advances on me, fists clenched. “And I’ll bedamnedif I’m going to tuck my tail and run or take your moody bullshit, just because you’re unhappy with the situation.”
“Unhappy?” I rock back on my heels and laugh, which admittedly does little to help the situation, but I can’t help it. It’s either laugh or throw her into the back of the Land Rover and get her naked so I can bury my face between her legs. “You think I’munhappywith the situation? That’s what you think this is?Unhappiness.”
“No.” She sets her chin at an oppositional angle and folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t think you’reunhappy—I was just trying to be nice.” Dropping her arms she moves even closer, pushing herself against me and up onto the toes of her tennis shoes so she can look me in the eye. “What Ireallythink is that you’ve been throwing a pouty, crybaby tantrum ever since you opened the front door this morning and found me standing on your brother’s doorstep and I, for one, am sick of it.”
There it is again.
