Page 6 of Beautiful Desire
“My mom told me to come here to get it.”
“What fucking key?” I ask again, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to get through this year, when he’s been in front of my face for all of three minutes, and I’m already pissed off.
“Did she not tell you?”
I clench my jaw. “Fletcher, I don’t have time for this. You have about three seconds to tell me what you’re talking about before I completely lose my shit.”
He has the nerve to look annoyed withmeas he huffs out a sigh. “My mother told me to come here to get your house key from you, since her and Edward didn’t have one. So, here I am, trying to get the damn keys. I’m too damn hungover for your attitude. I’m not exactly thrilled with the situation either, but there’s no need to be such a bitch about it.”
“Excuse me?” I seethe, narrowing my eyes into slits as I take in the audacious moron in front of me.Why the hell does he keep asking for my key?
“Can I just have the goddamn key, and we can have this conversation later?” he asks, a few customers turning their head to look at where the commotion is coming from. Rounding the corner of the desk, I grab Fletcher by the arm, and drag him outside so we’re not making any more of a scene. As soon as we step onto the sidewalk, he continues. “I’ve spent the last couple hours in the car, Georgia, and like I said before, I’m pretty fucking hungover, so I’d like to get settled so I can take a nap.”
“Oh, a nap? Of course. Why wouldn’t the spoiled little rich boy be hungover and want to take a nap on a Wednesday afternoon?” I ask with a dry laugh. “Go nap at your mom’s house. Think you might still be drunk. Why the hell would I give you the key tomyhouse? When have youevergone to my house?”
Fletcher stares at me blankly for a moment before groaning loudly and letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he looks at the sky, with his hands planted on his hips. “That’s just fucking great,” he mutters before bringing his gaze back to mine. “I’m supposed to be moving in with my mom and your dad today, but their remodel got screwed up by some pipe bursting, so she called me last night to tell me I’ll be staying with you.”
“She saidwhat?” I ask, because surely, there’s no way I heard him correctly.
Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair. “She really didn’t tell you any of this?”
“No, shereallydidn’t,” I grit out. Spinning on my heel, I yank open the front door, needing to find my phone to get to the bottom of this.
What is happening?
And why would she tell him he could stay with me?
Fletcher must’ve misunderstood her. I mean, clearly, he isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, in Blossom Beach, at the hand of his father in the first place. I hear his footsteps behind me, but he doesn’t say anything as I head into the back. Leaning down, I swipe my phone off the floor where I left it before I had to deal withthis,and quickly find my stepmom’s number. When she doesn’t answer, I ring her one more time before trying my dad…who also doesn’t answer.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I grumble. “What’s the point of a phone if you’re not going to answer it?”
“They’re probably busy,” Fletcher offers unhelpfully, which only amplifies my annoyance, both with him and the situation.
Turning toward him, I narrow my gaze. “It was a fucking rhetorical question, you idiot.” I storm into my office, grabbing my purse and keys off the coat rack before spinning around to leave, only to run straight into a wall of muscle and overly expensive cologne. Fletcher’s hand flies up to my arm, grabbing me right above the elbow to steady me as I fumble back.
“Whoa, watch where you’re going, would ya?” He scoffs. “Just about knocked me over.”
I rip my arm away and shove him backward, with a hand to his chest—a chest that’s freakishly solid. “Watch whereI’mgoing?” I seethe. “You’re the one following me around like somelost fucking puppy. Why don’tyouwatch where you’re going, asshole?”
Not waiting for whatever douchey response he’s about to conjure up, I flick off the light in my office and walk out. Spotting Hazel up at the register, I walk over to her, and say, “I’ll be back in, like, an hour. You mind keeping an eye on things while I’m gone?”
She lets her gaze drag over my shoulder before coming back to me. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”
“Yup, all good. I shouldn’t be gone long, but call if you need anything.” I walk out of the store, leaving him to follow. Grabbing the keys out of my purse, I unlock my door and climb in.
Fletcher tries the passenger side, and once he realizes it’s locked, he knocks on the window and shouts, “Unlock it, I’m coming with you.”
Rolling the window down, I glower at him. “No, the fuck you aren’t, rich boy. You’ve got your own car and are more than capable of driving yourself.”
“I don’t want to,” he practically whines, sounding akin to a toddler not getting his way. “I’ve spent the whole morning driving. Besides, we’re both going to the same place. Just let me ride with you.”
Clenching my jaw, I glance at the seat beside me, a smirk sliding up my face. “Fine,” I mutter, unlocking the doors. “But you’re sitting in the back.”
“What?” he hisses. “Why?”
Gesturing toward the boxes on the seat, I meet his narrowed gaze. “This seat’s obviously taken.”
“No fucking way, Georgia.” He scoffs. “You can put them in the back.”
