3. All The Leverage （Hattie） #3
His nose wrinkles as the stench fills the room.
It’s almost like fresh-cut lawn meets wet dog. Pungent and swampy as hell, the kind of fragrance only Shrek could love.
“Here you are. Bottom’s up!” Mom beams proudly.
Ethan takes the glass and stares at it like he’s holding a radioactive core. I can see his mind racing in his eyes, trying to find a way out of green doom.
But there’s no escape, so he holds his breath as he takes a baby sip, barely managing to hide his revulsion.
I press my hand over my mouth, holding in an explosive giggle.
Yes, that muck tastes as good as it smells. Possibly worse.
“We should save him,” I whisper to Margot.
“Nah. Trust me, he can use a few extra vegetables. Plus, a little humility for the way he came charging in, taking his bad luck out on you.” She’s watching everything with keen interest and a slightly vicious smile.
My anger has truly evaporated.
Sure, he was rude—when isn’t he?—but he’s had a pretty massive shock, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to fake marry me, either.
“Mom,” I call, stepping into the kitchen and eyeing the remaining kale juice like it’s liquid cyanide. “Ethan actually stopped by to see Margot. They have a lot of family stuff to talk about and it’s not the best time for smoothie samples.”
“No, it looks delicious, Mrs. J!” Margot slings an arm over my shoulders. “Go on, Ethan. Finish it. We’ve got all evening to talk about PopPop.”
His eyes could burn her to ash, but he takes another sip, his face puckering.
Then a larger gulp.
I guess he thinks he’d better down it as fast as possible so his torment ends.
It’s fascinating to watch. I’m starting to understand why scientists love studying monkeys as social critters so much.
What will this big, tormented ape do next?
Will he have a human reaction for the first time in his life?
“Well, what do you think?” Mom stares at Ethan hopefully.
“Keep going, Bro,” Margot says before he can answer. “There’s still some in your glass.”
But my rational brain catches up with my monkey-watching brain, and I grab Mom’s arm. “Okay, that’s enough. Time to go.”
“But why?” She looks genuinely confused.
“So Ethan and Margot can talk. Don’t be rude, Mom.”
“Oh, hon, if they wanted to do that, they could go anywhere,” Mom says. Her eyes narrow. “What are they doing at your place?”
I start dragging her to the door.
Behind me, I think I hear Ethan retching.
“Margot needs me!” I lie. Right now, it’s the opposite, and I’m the one who needs her.
“But—”
“Bye, Mom!” I shove her out, slam the door in her face, and latch it before I flatten myself against it for good measure.
What the hell just happened?
If Margot said she hit me over the head with a baseball bat and I hallucinated everything that came next, I’d believe her.
Because I can’t believe any of this is happening.
And in my apartment?
This must be a terrible dream.
Unfortunately, when I open my eyes, no dice. Margot and Ethan are both standing in my kitchen.
Margot laughs her face off and Ethan tries to scowl through the biggest frown I’ve ever seen.
I can’t go through with this marriage thing.
No way.
If he’d come and begged and actually made it sound like he didn’t think he could buy me, then maybe, but now?
God.
Goddd .
My hands shake as I drag them down my face, trying to flatten my rough thoughts.
There’s no question who I’m dealing with now.
The same moody, older, entitled piece of jerkmeat he was back when we were growing up. If anything, he’s probably gotten worse with age.
So I’ll tell him no to his face. Just like that.
One word.
Easy.
He said he’d enlist an army of lawyers, didn’t he? I’m sure they can figure out something to get his money.
“Sorry about my mom,” I start. Mostly because I’m afraid he’ll sic his lawyers on me if Mom accidentally poisoned him with that slop.
But when I blink again, Ethan is standing in front of me.
Way too close.
I can see small, glittery flecks of grey and gold in his dark blue eyes.
I also smell the kale juice on his breath, so concentrated it could start peeling paint off the walls.
Man, he’s pale.
Maybe Mom did poison him after all.
Would I have to pay damages if he gets ill here? Is that a thing?
He’s so close I can’t think straight.
“Hattie,” he grinds out, and every muscle in my body freezes.
Holy shit. Why must this asshole be so fine ?
“Ethan.” It comes out like a whisper.
Maybe I’m coming down with something too. That would explain why I feel so dizzy and hot.
“I’ll admit I went about this the wrong way,” he growls, and the corner of his mouth curves.
Not a smile, but something that might be distantly related somewhere in the animal kingdom. Like second cousins once removed.
“Um, okay?” I say.
“I came in here swinging, pointing fingers, and I’m sorry. Hardly the best approach when I need a favor.” He holds my gaze so strongly it feels illegal.
Are my knees okay?
“Let me try this again,” he says. “If you’ll consider my proposal, I’ll give you a down payment today.”
I watch as he reaches into his pocket.
A checkbook, I realize, as he flips it open.
“Half now, half on completion,” he says calmly. “Is that fair? Just don’t expect me to get down on one fucking knee.”
I frown, staring at the check he tears off, already written out.
My eyes need a second before the numbers come into focus.
$250,000.
A quarter million dollars.
My eyes roll back in my head, blinded by dollar signs, and everything goes sideways.