Filthy English
“Couldn’t . . .”
“Ah.” He left again, and came back with a bottle of Gatorade and two Aleve. “Come on, let’s take your medicine or you’ll feel like shite tomorrow on your way home.”
Sitting up, I guzzled the liquid and swallowed the pills. As I stretched back on the couch, he grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and draped it over me. Once he was satisfied, he sat down on the heavy, metal coffee table and contemplated me.
“What?” I growled.
He arched a sardonic brow. “I’ve never seen you as a moody drunk is all. Not sure I take to it well. I like fun Dax better—not this rock-bottom dude.”
I grunted. “I’m not rock bottom.” A pause. “Thanks for the ride home, man.”
“Yep.”
I nodded. Carefully, since the room still spun.
He rose up to leave.
“What—what did Remi say?”
He opened his mouth and I held a hand up. “No. Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter. I saw everything I needed to see.”
His hands on her naked skin. Her arms around him.
“Just—just make sure I make my flight tomorrow. I need to get back to Whitman.”
“You got it. Sleep tight, princess.” He turned down the lights and walked out of the room.
I closed my eyes and drifted into a dark oblivion.
I PLOPPED DOWN on the plaid couch Elizabeth had picked out for me at a second-hand store in Raleigh yesterday and gazed around at my house.
My house. All twenty-five hundred square feet of it. I wanted to shout it from the rooftop. Hell, maybe I’d climb up there later and drink a beer. Because it was mine and paid for.
“What are you grinning at?” Declan said as he stalked in the front door carrying a box of dishes.
“Just can’t wrap my head around this place.” I stood and took the box from him, although it was clear he didn’t need the help. I wasn’t the only one who’d bulked up even more over the summer.
“You put a lot of work into it these past few days,” he said, glancing around. “Feels good, huh?”
I nodded.
Elizabeth called down from the upstairs railing. “All done cleaning the bathroom and extra bedrooms. It’s ready for your new tenant—if you get one.” She grinned broadly and bounced down the stairs, her hair in a ponytail and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She was a sweet girl with dramatic dark eyebrows and white-blonde hair; I wasn’t surprised Declan had fallen fast and hard.
I grinned. “Someone’s gonna bite. I posted the ad on Craigslist, the local paper, and put it up on the Whitman website.”
Declan snorted. “You’re gonna wind up with a psycho, mate.”
“It’s not like I could get one of my frat brothers to move in,” I replied. “Judging by the Tau house, they wouldn’t pick up after themselves, and I don’t want a bunch of parties going on. They might mess up the new paint job we did yesterday.” With Declan and Elizabeth’s help, I’d managed to paint the entire interior a nice cream color—or Vanilla Bean as Elizabeth called it.
Declan chuckled. “Those are words I never imagined you saying.”
Elizabeth arrived at the bottom of the stairs and Declan turned toward her, their eyes meeting and clinging to each other as she went straight into his arms. He bent down and kissed her—for no apparent reason other than he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders as she kissed him back soundly.
I’d gag, but I was used to their PDA.
“Feel free to christen the spare bedrooms,” I said, turning away from their display and making my way to the kitchen. “Just leave mine alone.”
I busied myself by carting boxes into the kitchen, finding a cabinet, and stashing the plates and bowls. My thoughts invariably ran to Remi. She’d been on my mind on and off since I’d left London over a week ago, but I’d had the house to keep me occupied.
She sent me several texts after I’d walked out of her hotel, but I’d never responded. Obviously, she’d had no clue I’d seen her and Hartford together.
I pulled my phone out and scrolled through the messages sent over the span of four days.
Remi, Day 1:
What happened to you? Why didn’t you come back? I’ve tried to call you at least ten times, and now Spider says you’re passed out. Hartford is here, and I don’t know what to do. I need you, Dax. You said you’d be here for me. Please.
Remi, Day 2:
Spider says you left for Raleigh this morning. I know you’re reading this. I thought our friendship meant something to you. Guess I was wrong.
Remi, Day 3:
I can’t believe I let myself get sucked into sleeping with you. If that was all you wanted, why didn’t you just say so instead of going to all that trouble of pretending to be my friend! You’re a douchecanoe and I hate you.
Remi, Day 4:
I don’t hate you, but I hope your dick falls off.
That had been the final message.
I sighed. In the end, it was good that Hartford had shown up.
Because girls like Remi weren’t meant for me, and it’s better to nip it before it festered.
Love hurts, Dax.
Nope. It wasn’t love. It was LUST. And now that I’d nailed her, I could move on.
Another box was on the kitchen table and when I opened it, I saw it was the new glasses Father and my stepmother, Clara, had given me as a housewarming gift. They still had the store stickers on the bottom, so I filled up the sink with soap and hot water to wash them, making a mental note to consider investing in a dishwasher. On a whim, I grabbed the red and white apron off the hook by the back door that said Mr. Goodlookin’ Is Cookin’—a gift from Declan.