Page 12 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

She made a snide face and stuck out her tongue. “Don’t be snarky. You can’t pull it off. Leave the snark to me.”

Because she was a pro when it came to snark, that was for damn sure. “What’s this other route I should so easily take?” I asked, surprised I’d pulled off casual and unconcerned while my heart began to hammer staccato against my ribs at my sister’s suggestion. I didn’t have any business feeling hope, but damn if I could stop it.

“Be there.”

I remained quiet, waiting for her to finish, but she said nothing else. “That’s it? That’s your whole plan?Be there? What the hell does that even mean?”

She let out a huff like she was dealing with the dumbest kid in class. “It means exactly that, genius. You’re going to be there. You’re going to be her friend, Owen. The best damn friend she’s ever had.”

I had a feeling that was going to be easier said than done, given my history of acting like a jackass, but Hardin was on a roll, so the best thing I could do was let her keep going until she wore herself out.

“For starters, she’s probably going to need help moving out of Jackson’s place, right? Well, you’ve got that nice, big SUV that can hold a whole lot of stuff.”

“I . . . hadn’t thought of that.”

“Of course you hadn’t. Lucky for you, you have a sister who’s smart as hell. From here on out, you’re her go-to guy. Anything from leaky faucets to flat tires, you’re going to be there, until it’s second nature for her to call you when she needs help with something. On the off chance that’s not quite enough, you’ve got an adorable little niece and a lovable, fluffy dog you can use to soften her up. You become that man for her, and in time, makinga move will be the natural progression to your relationship.” She clapped her hands together in a motion like she was dusting them off. “Easy peasy.”

Be there, I thought, facing forward to watch my niece and dog wrestle around on the grass. I wasn’t sure if I was losing my mind or what, but I couldn’t help but think that my sister’s hair brained idea might actually work.

6

ASHER

Iwasn’t sure how long I stood in the entryway after Owen dropped me off, staring at the empty spot in the driveway where his big Blazer was for the short time it had taken him to come in and do a scan of the house to make sure Jackson had kept his word and stayed away. But once he was gone, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to move. A twisting, clenching pang that started as I’d watched him back out and drive away continued to echo in my chest for a long time afterward.

I blamed it on my hangover and the stress and emotional upheaval of the past several hours. Being jilted, then drunk as hell, then hungover, wreaked havoc on a woman’s sanity. My poor brain definitely wasn’t firing on all cylinders. That had to be the reason why, after a shockingly enjoyable morning, I found myself missing a man I hardly knew, and up until very recently hadn’t liked, rather than the man I was supposed to have married, for Christ’s sake.

After too many minutes, I finally shook myself out of the stupor and forced my legs to carry me up the stairs. I stood at the threshold of the room Jackson and I shared, the thought of allthat had to be done in order for me to move on so overwhelming, I felt like cinderblocks were pressing down on my shoulders.

It can wait, I told myself, as I dumped my purse on the bed and dropped my tattered wedding dress on the floor. It could all wait for now.

I stripped off the clothes I’d borrowed from Owen and headed for the master bath, the only room in the whole damn house I liked. It might not have had a cool as hell clawfoot tub like Owen’s bathroom, but it did have a massive shower with a rainfall shower head and six body jets.

I stood in the center of the big, tiled shower, letting the water beat at me from all sides and steam up the tile walls and glass door. I stood there until my fingertips turned pruney and the water started to cool, a feat since Jackson had an oversized water heater put in to prevent that very thing from happening. But he wasn’t here, and I was going to useallthe hot water if I damn well wanted to!

I stood there until I felt the last of my hangover—and the shame that accompanied knowing I’d puked on another human being—circle the drain and swirl down. Only then did I scrub myself clean. I went through the more detailed, time-consuming beauty routine that I usually only did once a month, treating my tangled, crispy-from-hairspray locks to a deep conditioning mask and exfoliating the hell out of my face as an apology to my skin for sleeping in a pound of makeup and then using a harsh hand soap on it earlier that morning.

When I finally stepped out of the shower and into the fogged-up bathroom, I slathered my face in a brightening repair mask. I rubbed my favorite juniper-scented lotion on every inch of my body, leaving me smelling fresh and crisp, like a bright spring day in the mountains.

I worked a comb through my hair gently before hitting it with leave-in conditioner, then twisted it up into a damp bun to blowdry later. I’d only had one cup of coffee at Owen’s, and while it had worked a small miracle in helping me feel somewhat normal again, I needed another boost of caffeine to get me through the day.

Feeling a little lessWalking Dead-ish, I wrapped one of Jackson’s long, unfathomably plush towels around my body and moved back into the bedroom, heading for the dresser when I caught sight of the clothes I’d discarded earlier. Owen’s clothes. The tee and basketball shorts that smelled like him. I didn’t give it a moment’s thought as I dropped the towel on the floor right where I stood and moved to the dresser for a pair of panties. Then I lifted Owen’s shirt to my nose and gave it a good, long sniff before putting it on. It smelled like a combination of a rich musky forest and fresh clean soap. The basketball shorts were next, rolled up at the waist over and over until they stayed up on my hips, then I headed for the kitchen, for one of the only things in the house, besides the shower, that I was going to miss dearly.

Jackson’s state of the art, expensive-as-shit espresso machine made some of the best cappuccinos and lattes I’d ever tasted in my life. If I thought for a second that I could get away with it, I’d have packed up that machine and taken it with me.

I headed down the stairs as I made lists in my head of everything I needed to pack, how many boxes I’d need, how many trips it would take to get everything from here to my condo, silently starting to stress out all over again. When I hit the landing I let out a frightful shriek and stumbled backward, pinwheeling my arms in an attempt to catch myself before inevitably landing flat on my ass.

“Well now, that was an unnecessary reaction, don’t you think?”

“Jesus, Mom!” I yelped, my heart currently trying to beat its way out of my chest as I pushed myself to standing and rubbed my aching tailbone. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.“Of course it wasn’t an unnecessary reaction to you breaking and entering. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I didn’t break and enter. The front door was unlocked. I opened and entered.”

My tailbone throbbed something fierce. “You could have at least called out to announce yourself. Now my poor ass it going to be black and blue when I go back to work,” I said with a pout.

“Oh, my poor baby.” She walked up to me, her face awash with sympathy as she cupped my cheek. Then she took a step back and waved the bundle of burning sage she was holding in my face and down the front of me.

I coughed at the fragrant smoke billowing from the lit end. “For the love of God, will you stop smudging me? You’re going to set off the smoke detectors.” I waved away the smoke and snatched the bundle from her, stomping over to the sink and dropping it in before turning on the water. I whipped back around to face her and crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”

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