Page 11 of Unbreakable
“I bet it does,” Dylan said, amused. “You gettin’ high, J?”
“Might not hurt,” I said with a shrug. “Should I not?”
“No, do it! Have fun, babe. Lindberg’s driving,” he said with a kiss to my cheek. “It’d be good to see you laugh like that again.”
His statement had hidden barbs in it. It was no secret that I hadn’t been feeling fully myself since we moved, but this was the first time Dylan acknowledged the shift in any way.
Jack sighed. “You might want to take a smaller dose. I’ve still gotta get this nutjob home.”
Mara leaned over to my ear, whispering at a volume that everyone in the surrounding counties could probably hear. “He already nutted in me earlier.”
Jack’s face was impassive. “Damn right, I did.”
“I meanwhat the hell are they doing? Just sitting in a corner doing drugs?”
“She’s being so annoying. They think they’re better than everybody. You know, Austin said her husband’s annoying as shit.”
I’d just come out of the bathroom off the kitchen hallway, and the edible was starting to kick in. I felt loose and mellow, having just stared at my reflection while wondering when my lips got so pretty. I felt like I was in there for about twenty minutes, but a glance at my phone showed that it had been about five.
“Yeah, I guess he’s really pissing everyone on the team off, acting like he’s the coach. Dottie said he’s the reason they’re losing.”
“Well, there’s no way either of them will last more than a year here. They’re both old and washed up.”
I gripped the wall next to me, staring at a picturesque professional photo of Lacey and Gavin.
My brain was warm and soupy, but before I could pop into view, it hit me: the tea being spilled might have been about Jack or Dylan. I dropped into a crouched position like maybe they wouldn’t know I heard them talking if I just army-crawled back out to the patio. I stifled a giggle as I pictured myself doing just that, but then the mood shifted.
Panic threatened to take me under. Was I the one being annoying? What was I doing wrong?You’re in your mid-thirties acting like a teenager, Jeanine. That’s what you’re doing wrong. I needed to make a good impression, and me spacing out in a corner on drugs wasn’t going to help my case.
Just then, the Korowski’s golden retriever detected me as a friend, scrambled around the kitchen island, and barreled toward me. He knocked me on my ass and licked my face, and that launched me into the promised giggles.
My breaths came in big honking jags, causing Lacey to peer over the counter to see what was causing all the ruckus.
“Sawyer, down!” she shouted. “I’m so sorry, Jeanine! Are you hurt?”
I’d have told her “no,” but I couldn’t get coherent words out. Another of the wives appeared behind Lacey, narrowing her eyes at me. She disappeared and the back door creaked open. I heard an agitated shout of, “Sorrento, come get your wife!”
The next thing I knew, my personal Patrick Swayze was crouched in front of me. His warm brown eyes looked me over, tickled by my nonsense. “I think we need to take Baby home,” he chuckled.
“But I wanted to do the lift,” I protested, my abs hurting from the laughing fit.
With a grin, he hoisted me to my feet and let his hands slip to my hips. “Hold your body straight.”
I gasped. “Really?”
Dylan nodded, getting into a low squat. “Jump.”
On a wave of laughter, I put my arms out, bent my knees, and launched myself upward.
And like he promised, Dylan held me up in the famousDirty Dancinglift.
Lacey and Christine let out a cheer, but other, less positive voices could be heard.
“Oh, wow, okay.”
“They really did it.”
And finally, a sarcastic, “Cute.”
