Chapter 8 No Effing Way
Chapter 8
no effing way
Everything will be the same, my ass.
It had been less than an hour since Satan and his leave-it’s-mark-on-the-environment, omission-heavy trust-fund-on-wheels had pulled up, and nothing was the same. In fact, nothing had been the same since his business had moved in next door.
The plants in her apartment had died from the lack of sun since she now lived in the shadow of a batholith eyesore. Her gorgeous view of the quaint downtown was now a brick wall. And the royal blue ballbuster dress Autumn had lent her was too snug in the chest because of all Summer’s stress-eating.
“God, can anything else go wrong?” she groaned as she pulled off the dress and walked to her closet to see if she’d brought one of her Big Chick Energy outfits.
She snorted. “You don’t own a Big Chick Energy outfit.”
But this was her turf—literally. They were on the shoreline of the house that had been like a second home to Summer. He was the interloper and she was going to make sure he knew. She wasn’t about to let him win a single battle in this war.
“I’m not going to give that asshole even a moment’s thought.”
“Sounds like I’m in all of your thoughts.” The voice came from the doorway followed by an annoying ping of her phone.
Summer didn’t squeak or jump; she forced her body to remain unaffected. So he’d caught her talking about him while standing in her undies again. It didn’t mean she’d give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he got to her.
Her plan failed when she turned around and watched in horror as he walked over the threshold with a suitcase that probably cost more than her entire jewelry collection, and tossed it on the bottom bunk. Her bunk!
“Um, what are you doing?”
“Unpacking.” He looked at her undies. “Am I overdressed for the event?”
She snatched a soft throw off the rocking chair arm and wrapped it around her like a bath towel. “This is my room.”
“According to your mum, this is my room for the duration.” He unlatched one side of the suitcase, and before she could think she threw herself on it, covering it with her body. In the process she bonked her head on the top bunk.
“You hit your head,” he said helpfully.
“You have resting dick face.”
He thought about that and then smiled. “Most woman seem to like my face just fine.”
“Most woman are easily swayed by a snake charmer. I am not one of those women.”
“Good to know, since your blanket parted and is gifting me a view of your knickers. I think it’s a thong in Fuck Me Red, so you can see how I’m getting mixed signals.”
She jerked her hand behind her to close the opening and found it was, in fact, not open. Jerk! “How did you know the color?”
“God-given talent.”
“Then let me clear it up for you. We will not, now or ever, have sex.”
“Are you declaring your celibacy for me? I’m honored that I inspire such loyalty from you.”
“You are so infuriating.” She stood chin up as she stretched to her full five foot two. “I meant, with each other.”
“Too bad. I’m a five-star shag. I can get you testimonials if you need them.”
Gross .
“Women lie.” Although she didn’t think it was a lie. Wes had this ultra-masculine vibe about him. Big Dick Energy at its finest. Soft-looking lips that could also be punishing. Large, massive hands that could fully splay around her waist. And even through his pressed jeans it was clear that he was massive in other areas.
“Rethinking your stance, love?”
“Not in the slightest, crumpet. So, listen clearly. You’re not going to charm your way into my bed.”
He crossed his arms and rested a casual shoulder against the ladder that connected the upper and lower bunks. “So you admit you find me charming? Interesting.”
“‘Interesting’ isn’t the word that comes to mind.” Although what was happening in her belly? All the little flutters were interesting—and concerning. “More like infuriating, irritating, imbecile.”
“Imbecile? Do you mean imbecilic? As I don’t think a person can find someone imbecile.”
Summer caught herself stomping a foot and shouting, “God, I hate you.”
“You know what they say, the line between love and hate is a thin one.”
“You are mistaking my emotion. This is a love-to-hate situation.” Straight out of a rom-com novel and one of her favorite tropes. It went deeper than enemies-to-lovers, so when the couple finally overcame the seemingly unsurmountable obstacles to get past their hate and realize it was love along—what a jolt to the heart. Not that that was what this was. This was definitely all hate. So to clarify, she said, “Meaning I love to hate you.”
“If you say so,” he drawled, sounding almost bored. That is, if one could drawl while sounding like an uptight Brit.
She gripped the latch and reclosed it. “I say so.”
He waited until she was done fiddling with the latch and reattached it. “So where do we stand? Are you the big spoon? I’m a great cuddler.”
“I don’t share.”
“Fine. I’ll take the bottom bunk.” And with that he moved his suitcase to the floor and sprawled out on the bed, even giving it a little test with his hands, before stuffing them behind his head and releasing a sigh. Then the prick actually had the nerve to close his eyes.
“The bottom bunk is mine.”
“I’m bigger, therefore I should get the bottom bunk.” He gave a little bounce. “Not too firm, with plenty of support. This will do.”
“ This will do? ” Fury rose swiftly to boiling point. Where did he get off, thinking he could come in and demand the bottom bunk? Her bunk! He wasn’t the one on the verge of financial ruin. He wasn’t the one who was terrified that he’d have to start letting employees go as soon as his store opened. And he wasn’t the one who’d been looking forward to this vacation since last year. “Why are you doing this?”
He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and frowned. “I don’t want to be here either. But my brother asked me to stay and he’s never asked me for anything. We’re not close and I’m trying to fix that.”
She understood that on a core level. A little of her anger sizzled, until it was more of a low rumbling than a rapid boil.
“So you’re really staying?”
“I made a promise and I don’t go back on my word.” He sat and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Why don’t we rock-paper-scissors it? Whoever loses gets the top bunk.”
Knowing close quarters would lead to World War III, not to mention the look that would mar her sister’s pretty face if Summer had to explain that Wes was leaving because Summer couldn’t act like an adult, was too much to take. So she toppled like a stack of dominos.
“To be clear, I am only doing this because of my sister’s happiness, not because I gave into your charms,” she clarified. “But whoever loses gets the couch.”
Resting his elbows on his knees, he held out a fist. “Ready? One.” They threw fists. “Two.” More aggressive fists. “Three.”
Wes presented a rock and Summer presented paper.
“I won!” Oh my god, she’d won. So what if it was just over a stupid bed; she’d taken on Goliath and come out the victor. “I won!” She spun around like she was Julie Andrews standing in the middle of a meadow in the Austrian Alps. “I won! I won!”
“I’m glad you’re handling this so maturely.”
Summer put her foot on his suitcase and shoved it so that his shoes were used as a bumper. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass—or should it be arse —on your way out.”
“If you need that cuddle, you know where I’m at.”
“Did you forget that I just smothered you to death?”
Wes stopped at the doorway, and with a wicked grin said, “Oh, it’s already filed away for future reference, love.”