Page 53 of Dirty Martini
I wince. “I may have gone a step too far.”
“That’s not like you but, then again, you’ve been doing a lot that hasn’t been like you lately.”
“Tell me about it.” I shake my head with a groan. Everest has turned me into something else. The calm, rational guy I am goes out the window when I’m with him, showing me a side of myself I never knew existed. The thought makes my heart stutter, and I hate that traitorous feeling. “Maybe I’ll takeonedrink.”
“Woah, hold up,” Britt says, and I turn to see her walking in front of the bar. She motions to the television behind the bar top. “Turn that up.”
“The National Weather Advisory is recommending the following counties prepare for a Category Four storm within the next forty-eight hours. Monroe County, Broward County, Miami Dade County?—”
“Shit,” I say, already anticipating the worst. It’s not like us Floridians are new to hurricanes, but it always sucks when one heads our way. I also know that there are about zero supplies inthe apartment, which only means one unfortunate thing. I turn to Butch. “Grocery store?”
He chuckles humorlessly, already getting up and dropping a few bills on the table. “Good luck getting to one before it becomes a war zone.”
Yeah, it turns into an every-man-for-himself type situation when it comes to hurricane supplies. People always take the weirdest shit with them. There’s absolutely no mercy.
“Shit, let’s go,” I say, and all of us pay our respective tabs and head out of the bar. Some of us drove together, so the rest get into Britt’s pickup truck or Cass’s soccer mom van, while I go to my car.
I start it up, wondering which grocery store will be the least crowded, when it hits me. Where the fuck is he? My stomach starts to rumble unpleasantly, something making my heart skip a beat.
Fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rhys
It’sa pain walking into the penthouse with my arms full of groceries and my phone plastered between my cheek and my shoulder.
I unceremoniously drop all the bags as the line continues to ring and fuckingringuntil it goes to voicemail.
“Hi! It’s Everest! Please leave a message after the beep!”
“Everest Hill, pick up your damn phone,” I growl, gripping my phone so tightly I swear I hear the glass crack. “Also, your voicemail sounds like you snorted sugar. Do something about that.”
Slamming my phone down on the counter, I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I begin to pace, wondering where the ever-living fuck Everest is. We have one day to hurricane-proof the penthouse, and while the storm isn’t here yet, the weather is already going to shit. Is he really this stubborn? Risking his life just to avoid me?
A sort of jittery mess fills my stomach, an uncomfortable churning that makes me shuffle from one foot to the other restlessly. It’s suddenly very dry when I swallow and my fingers tingle as they twitch by my sides. I know what it is I’m feeling. Oh, yeah, Idefinitelyknow, and I don’t like it one bit. If I couldjust jump back to how I was earlier, I would. If I could take this feeling, ball it up, and chuck it off the balcony, I wouldn’t hesitate.
Because I hate the fact that I’m so worried about Everest that I’m damn close to losing my mind. What if he’s hurt? What if his car got stalled somewhere or stuck and he gets caught in the storm? Or worse, who is he riding out the storm with if it’s not me?
I wait just a few more minutes before I get up and walk toward the entryway, putting on my rain jacket without knowing I’m doing it. Just as I finish zipping myself up and grabbing my keys with no particular destination in mind, the elevator doors open.
And Jesus Christ, I can breathe again.
I don’t dare show Everest the overwhelming relief coursing through me as I take in his handsome yet solemn face. His normally styled blond hair is a bit poofed by the humidity, curling slightly at the ends in a way that makes him look his age. He glances up at me, eyes guarded, but the angry pink flush that covers his cheeks gives him away. He’s acting like I’m going to lash out at any minute, wary of me, and he’s not entirely unjustified.
“Ow!” he shouts, rubbing his arm where I delivered a particularly harsh punch. “What in the fresh fuck?—”
“Where have you been?” My relief at seeing him mixes with the absolute annoyance that I had to worry about him in the first place.
He shrugs me off easily. “None of your business.”
“How could you be out on the streets at a time like this?” I yell, following and blocking him as he tries to sidestep me to the stairs.
He raises one eyebrow and turns to look at the window beside him. When he looks back at me, he snorts. “A time like this?”
My stomach sinks with something akin to embarrassment as I glance out the window. Sure, it’s raining, but it’s more of a drizzle than anything else.
“A time to remember to turn off your sprinklers? Or maybe put the succulents out?”
