Page 24 of The Renegade Billionaire
“The one who got away?” I snarl. “Is that what he said?”
“Harry Turd is a pissant,” Pops grumbles.
“Harry…Harry Turd?” I don’t want to laugh, but hearing Pops call my lying, manipulative ex a Harry Turd cracks me wide open. It’s so childish, immature to the nth degree, but it also takes some of the vitriol I carry for my ex and turns it into something I can laugh about.
That hasn’t happened, ever. Not until Braxton Mitchell.
I’ve completely lost my mind. I’m doubled over with my hands on my knees, laughing so hard my stomach cramps. But then Braxton’s hand lands on my back, rubbing small, soothing circles.
It sobers me quickly enough that I stand upright to face him again, this time with tears of laughter spilling down my cheeks. I quickly brush them away.
“I don’t mean to pry?—”
“Then don’t,” I interrupt.
“I just mean…the Turd-o-nator is kind of…”
“Sleazy,” Pops fills in.
Braxton scratches at a spot on his chest. “Ah, yeah. That’s it.” He chuckles. “And he’s not very?—”
“Attractive. Guys lost his damn mind right along with his hair. Madi dodged a real bullet there.” Pops whistles to the sky as the swing carries him back and forth.
“Okay, Pops. That’s enough.” When I turn back to Braxton, he’s studying me—it twists me up like a Rubik’s cube. “My ex…he wasn’t always this way. He used to be?—”
“Sober,” Pops blurts.
I purse my lips and drop my gaze to the ground. “Alcohol has changed him.”
Braxton slides both hands into his front pockets just as Savvy’s car pulls up in front of the house. Good Lord, save me from this night.
“You bought Pops’ truck?” I’m desperate to change the subject.
“Yeah,” he says, pulling on his neck with one hand.
Closing my eyes, I nod three times.
“I’m going to make dinner now.” Lifting my lashes a fraction of an inch, I still get lost in the pull of him. “Ah, and I’ll apologize in advance for my friends. They’re more than friends, actually,they’re our family, and they feel the need to join us for dinner tonight to make sure you’re not a body-snatching murderer looking to make a skinsuit.”
“A skinsuit, huh?” He rubs his jaw with his thumb, and why is that the sexiest move ever? “I promise you, I’m not a skinsuit murderer.”
I shrug. “Isn’t that exactly what you’d say if you were?”
His dang crooked smile makes my limbs tingle. “I suppose it is.”
“Listen, it’s not me you have to convince. It’s them.” I hook a thumb in the direction of Savvy’s car just as she, Clover, and a very pregnant Elle step out.
“I’m going to need some wine,” I mutter, then make my escape to the house. “Pops, you and I are going to have a little chat about your shopping trip today, and then we’re going to go over, again, why it’s not safe for you to be out without someone helping you.”
He waves me off with a shooing motion while watching the girls as they march past Braxton. Clover makes an “I’m watching you” motion with her fingers to her eyes, and Pops hoots with laughter.
I’m never going to survive this night.
“Anything I can do to help?”Braxton asks, poking his head into the kitchen.
“Where are you from?” Savvy asks before I can open my mouth.
“West Coast,” he replies vaguely.
