Page 118 of Bottle Shock
I’m quiet for a beat—not because I’m unsure, but because everything has been leading to this moment, and the last thing on my mind is the house. If they want to sell it to me, I’m buying it. That’s not the issue. But what I want more than that, is the woman beside me. Had it not been for me overhearing Maggie and Carl, I’m not sure I would’ve ever had the guts to make a move.
And the more I think about that conversation, the more I wonder if what I heard was actually or correct or I pieced everything together to create a plausible reason I needed Scottie to be the one to do this with me.
It gave me the freedom to cross lines I normally wouldn’t, to be brave, to finally, after years, get the girl I’ve been silently yearning after.
Scottie kicks me under the table, cocking her head at me with her eyes wide.
Right.
I need to answer them.
“We’ll take it.”
Carl nods once, satisfied. “We’ll handle the paperwork this week. Should be straightforward.”
“This is bullshit,” Andy says before slamming back the last of his whiskey. “I can’t believe you’re going to let strangers live in that house when it’s rightfully mine.” He stalks off like achild.
Maggie sighs, rising like she might go after him but doesn’t. “Sorry,” she says with an uncomfortable laugh. “He’s our sentimental one.”
More like psychopathic one.
“There was another couple,” Carl starts. “They came up last weekend, and we just got a bad feeling about them.”
I didn’t realize we were in a competition at this point, but it’s nice to know we did something right. Whatever that may be.
Maggie wrinkles her nose. “They said they wanted to turn the house into a bed and breakfast. And we just couldn’t do that to the neighbors.”
“It’s not meant for that,” Carl says simply.
Scottie squeezes my thigh under the table. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
I nod, giving her hand a squeeze before she walks away.
Maggie and Carl continue to ramble about the house, things I need to know, but I’m likely going to forget.
I check my watch.
Scottie’s been gone for five minutes.
That’s not long at all, but there’s an unease sitting in my gut that tells me I should check on her. Just in case.
“I’m going to go make sure Scottie is okay,” I say, pushing up from my chair.
I find her near the back hallway, just outside the restroom.
And Andy is standing too close. Blocking her in. His shoulder angled toward hers. His voice low.
“I figured you for a screamer,” he says, tone dripping smug. “Glad to know I was right.”
His hand is running the length of her arm. Touching her. And she clearly doesn’t like it.
Scottie’s jaw is locked. Her spine stiff. She’s holding her ground, but she shouldn’t have to.
I don’t think.
I just move.
But right before I reach Andy, Scottie slaps him hard across the face, the smack echoing. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again or I’ll have my husband break every bone in your body.”
