Page 19 of Scoring Truth
“Oh, it’s not me torturing him. Ya see, he’s been waiting for three days to hear from you. Three. Whole. Days. Jame!”
“From me? Why?”
“Oh, this playboy, he’s acting shy.” I hear him pull away from the phone, but enough for me to still hear every word. “You raised a good one, Dash. Humble as fuck, this one. Good-looking, young, and with fame to boot.” He chuckles. “And secrets. Lots and lots of secrets.”
At that, my phone rings with FaceTime. “Why are you FaceTiming me now? What is going on?”
I’m leery of answering this call. It’s my dad now calling on FaceTime, and when I accept it, Mark and Jackson appear. Their pictures fill the screen like a miniature version of the Brady Bunch.
And I know exactly what this is about.
“You saw the article, didn’t you?”
“Of course, we saw the article! And it took us three days of holding your dad back before we made the call. Honestly, Jameson. The secrets are too much.” He’s shaking his head. I roll my eyes at them all.
“Jameson. Who is this woman? The press has no idea who she is. Francesca tried doing a reverse lookup and found her on a dating site.”
Fuck.
“If I tell you a little, will you leave me alone? She’s on her way over and?—”
“Oh! She’s coming there! Quick! Prop up the phone so we can greet her when she walks in.”
“Yeah, that’s a hard no.”
I hear Summer in the background. “What’s going on? Who are you talking to?”
“Summer! Help! The interrogation is real.”
They all lean into the phone and shush me, and I think it’s hysterical. These men all want to act tough, in charge, and grumpy as heck, but their women run the show.
“Chickens, all of you. Don’t call me. I’ll call you,” and with that, I end the call with a big smile on my face.
I love them and miss them dearly. And it’s going to be fun to fuck with them. But I have a feeling they’re going to end up liking Penelope just as much as I do.
But Francesca finding her on a dating site has me worried.
My doorman buzzed me to let me know Penelope had arrived, so I went to the door and waited for her to step out of the elevator. The moment she did, she took my breath away. She was stunning in jeans and a black tank. Her smile grew as she approached and saw me appreciating just how well her body looked.
Flip, flop, flip, flop.
Furrowing my brows, I look at her feet to see a pair of sandals and laugh.
“Do not laugh at my shoes.” I chuckle and walk closer to meet her, her arms full with two grocery bags.
“I’m not laughing at the shoes, just the safety of them! What’s with the bags? I cooked for us.” I reach for them just as the toe of her sandal hits the floor and sends her catapulting forward. She lands against my chest, my hands wrapped around her biceps.
“You’re dangerous, Pip.”
Her face blushes, and she rights herself. But I can’t let her go. I squeeze her arms, then run my hands down her soft skin. She smells so good. She pushes her glasses back on her nose and huffs, “Dangerous, my ass. The floors are slippery.”
I agree with her ass being dangerous, for sure. When I’m silent for a moment too long, I meet her eyes, and she has a brow raised. “Truth, please.”
I drop my head and laugh. I’m caught. “I was just thinking that I agree with you.”
“Mmhmm. Sure.”
I take both bags. “Come on inside. I’ve got food warmed for us.”
