Page 30 of Reckless Hands
“She said nothing.” I smile and step past her. “You need a new phone. I got it wet.”
“I have a feeling it wasn’t water,” Chanel says from not far away, chuckling.
TWELVE
ADORA
Even though I wanted to, I didn’t stay the night at Becca’s. I ended up going back to my place after that phone call with Joey. That was weird, and hot, and weird. And I may have lied and said she was my girlfriend, though I think he knew that was the case. Even though the evidence says otherwise.
Today is my last day before I walk down the aisle to him.
I’ve spent hours upon hours trying to work out how to get out of it.
But I can’t come up with one single thing.
I can’t risk my sister’s life, even though we aren’t close. I would never risk her life for my own. She blames me for our father’s death, which she should. I did kill him, after all. And I would do it again.
Every. Single. Time.
That man deserves to be six feet under.
He was vile.
Vindictive.
A true bastard.
I’ve also avoided going to work so far today, but I have an author signing late this afternoon, and I can’t not show up.
I need to hire more staff, but the thought of someone messing up my bookstore hurts me more than I’m willing to admit. I have set it up so it’s shelved according to specific romance genres and then color-coded.
It’s literally perfect.
My safe haven.
My place to just be me.
When I turn up to unlock the doors, Joey’s leaning against the building. I ignore the flutter in my stomach as I look him over. He’s dressed nicely today, not in his usual jeans and shirt. He is wearing a blue button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up and showcasing a few tattoos, and his messy curls are slicked back. I hate to say it, but I prefer them when they’re messy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I say, striding straight past him to the door.
“You didn’t open today.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Is that something you usually do?”
“No, I’ve never not opened,” I reply over my shoulder. “But then again, I’ve never had to marry someone I didn’t want either.”
“Your tits say otherwise.” A smirk pulls up at the corners of his mouth as I glance down to see my traitorous nipples high-beaming.
“They have a mind of their own, nothing to do with you.”
“Of course, they do. Maybe you should listen to them.” He follows me in when I push the door open and switch on the lights.
“That’s a hard no. They don’t have a brain, but you can rest assured I do.”
“Mmm,” is all I get in response. I go to the back and get the props and signs for the table, and he leans against the counter, watching me.
