31. Dot
Adora
“So, what do we think?” Mindfuck turns to me, hands clasped in front of him, smiling from ear to ear, fluttering his eyelashes like he’s trying to start a tornado in the middle of this absolutely fucking beautiful house we just toured.
He looks like the world’s zaniest real estate agent.
He’s even wearing a tie! The rest of him is clad in leather, but… there’s a bright yellow tie around his neck.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Temperance whisper-yells from my right, the same weirded-out expression on her face as mine.
“Is he on drugs?” Ria whisper-yells from my left, leaning closer. “The bad kind?”
“I resent that,” Mindfuck snaps, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I’m just trying to be professional. And nice,” he mutters, patting down his yellow tie.
“Are you trying to be nice, or gearing up to kill us?” Temperance shoots back, hands braced on her hips. “Because from that look on your face—” she circles a finger in his general direction, “—we can’t fucking tell.”
“Fuck this,” he growls.
He loosens the tie around his neck, yanks it off, and flings it to the ground. The fabric is light, so it floats down softly, severely undercutting the dramatic moment Mindfuck was clearly going for.
He groans and looks up at the ceiling, frustration rolling off him in waves.
“Princess,” he says after a few seconds, wearing the most serious expression I’ve ever seen on his face. “You’re the one who matters here. Not these other two.”
He waves dismissively at Ria and Temperance. That’s a deadly mistake.
“Do you like this house? Does it suit your tastes? And most importantly — do you want it?” His brows lift as he smiles sweetly. “Please say you want it. I need it off my hands.” He leans forward, like he’s about to tell me a secret. “Also, I’d make a lot of money if you take it.”
He starts fluttering his lashes again.
I frown. “Mindfuck, I don’t have the money to buy a house,” I say gently. “I’m just looking to rent. And why do you need it off your hands? That sounds suspicious.”
“Let’s not beat around the bush, Princess,” he says, eyes narrowing. “You have Ghost money. Which means you have enough money to buy this entire fucking town if you wanted to.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw, and starts pacing.
“As for why I need it gone, I made a fucking mistake. When I moved here, I thought I’d try the normal life. White picket fence. Quiet nights. So I bought this beautiful abode.” He snorts. Stops pacing, then looks at me with wide, haunted eyes. “Turns out the normal life is boring as shit.”
“I spend all my nights at the clubhouse now. I want to party. Live like a free man. I don’t want to do yardwork. I don’t want to clean gutters. And I have zero desire to become a landlord. That comes with a whole other set of problems.”
He exhales. “So I’m selling. And your rich-as-fuck husband offered me double what I paid if you like the place and want it.”
He shrugs. “That’s it. Cards on the table.”
“She’ll take it,” Ria pipes up the moment he stops talking, not giving me a chance to say a word.
“Yeah, she will,” Temperance nods in agreement.
“I will fucking not,” I nearly yell, flinging my arms in the air. “I thought we came here because you were renting, not selling. I won’t accept a house from Ghost. Not another one!”
Ria is in front of me in the blink of an eye.
“Are you crazy?” she huffs, looking completely bewildered. “You want to refuse a whole-ass house? Fully furnished and ready to move in? Did you learn any of the lessons I taught you?”
“Mindfuck, the deal is done,” Temperance says, waving him off. “She likes the house. She’ll take it. Go draw the papers. Do whatever shit needs doing.”
Then she steps in next to Ria, pinning me in place with that steel gaze of hers.
Mindfuck doesn’t hesitate. He bolts out the door without so much as a glance back. Everything happens so fast I feel a little dizzy.
“You’ll never buy a house with bookstore money,” Temperance says, voice final. “Ghost burned down your cabin. It’s only fair he compensates you for it.”
Ria nods along. “I support women’s rights and wrongs, and you — a woman — have a right to this beautiful house. Also, think of your kitty,” she adds. “He’s the whole reason you’ve been looking for a new home. He needs a safe, poison-free place to park his furry butt. And you have one right here.”
She blinks innocently at me, like I don’t know the whole reason she actually likes this house is that it’s literally a ten-minute walk from her apartment.
“You can stop now,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “My will is weak. It cannot resist an attack from the both of you.”
It’s been over a week since the snake cult was dealt with. Meanwhile, I’ve been searching like crazy for a place to rent. I don’t know why I ever thought Ghost would just sit back and do nothing.
It’s like my brain refuses to accept the absolutely unhinged level of bullheadedness he’s capable of.
He’s been gone, though. Left the very next day after we got confirmation about the cult. Two days after our little arson adventure.
But he still found a way to get his notes to me. Every morning, a new one waits on the counter at my bookstore. Clearly, some biker minion of his has been breaking in every night on his behalf. I should be more annoyed by this, but I’m not. Not even a little.
I’ve also developed a bad — very, very bad — habit of compulsively checking the tracker app he installed on my phone. My heart squeezes painfully every time I spot that dot moving in or around Willow Harbor. And when it doesn’t move at all, it’s worse.
It’s hard to admit how much I fucking miss him. How much I’ve started worrying about him. I think it just hit me now — every time he leaves, Death walks at his side. It could take him at any moment. That tracker dot could just stop moving forever one day.
The dot is here. The fucking dot is here. Across the street, ten feet to the left.
Why the hell can’t I stop looking at my phone?!
Stop it, Adora. Stop it. It’s not your business that he’s here. Stalking you like a creeper. Not. Your. Business.
The chime of the bell above the door snaps me out of the ridiculous spiral I was hurtling toward.
Temperance walks in, looking both stunning and tired as fuck at the same time. She plops a brown paper bag on the counter and releases a yawn big enough to swallow my entire bookstore.
“Got lunch,” she mumbles, eyes half-lidded.
“Thank you,” I say carefully, dragging the bag closer. “What happened to you? Why do you look so tired?”
She frowns. Takes a deep breath. Her eyes narrow. Then the dam breaks.
“Sex. Lots of all-night, hot, sweaty trips to Poundtown.” Her arms flail.
“I can’t keep my damn hands off Bones. He just blinks and I instantly get panty palpitations.
I’m ready to go!” She leans forward, genuinely baffled.
“It’s like my vagina took over my brain, Adora.
I liked sex before, sure. I enjoyed it. A lot.
But this is getting ridiculous. I have work the next day, and my stupid vagina doesn’t care! ”
I clear my throat, a little startled. Fuck, I wish I had her problem.
“Well,” I start gently, “I’m sure things will calm down after a while.”
She squints, lips twisting. “I’m not so sure. Bones’ dick seems to agree with my lady garden. It’s like those two are conspiring against us.” She sighs. “Except I’m the only one who ends up exhausted. Somehow, he’s fresh as a daisy.”
She inhales. Exhales slowly. “Anyway. Enough about my problems.” She points at me, circling her finger in the air. “You look off. What’s wrong?”
My brain scrambles for anything other than ‘oh, nothing much, I’ve just been obsessing over the tracker planted in my ex-husband’s ass’.
I start fiddling with the papers on the counter. “Uh… nothing,” I mumble. “I was just thinking about rearranging some shelves around here. And I was also checking the bookstore numbers. They’re okay-ish, but it might be good to branch out. Maybe take the business online too.”
It’s not a lie. Just not the whole truth. I was supposed to focus on that. Instead, my mind is split in two — half here, half across the street.
“That’s a great idea,” Temperance says, suddenly looking far less tired. “I know people who can help with the online store setup. And marketing. I can also help with some kickass creatives.” She claps her hands together. “This is awesome. Just up my alley.”
Five minutes later, the bookstore is closed for lunch, and I’m sitting in my back office with Temperance, enjoying a huge steak sandwich.
“You weren’t just thinking about numbers, were you?” she says calmly. “You were also thinking about Ghost.”
That statement, delivered in her usual no-bullshit tone, out of nowhere, makes me choke on a piece of steak. She slides a glass of water toward me when my coughing fit won’t stop, waiting patiently.
“How the hell did you know?” I manage to rasp a minute later. “Am I really that fucking easy to read?”
She gives me a look like I just asked the stupidest question imaginable.
“You’re only easy to read when you think about him. You get the sappy look, remember? And also, don’t forget — I was in your place, more or less, not that long ago,” she says softly.
I deflate, letting out a long groan. “I just—it’s nothing serious. It’s just anxiety. Knowing he’s doing dangerous shit right now. Going after the cartel.”
She frowns, clearly unconvinced. “He’s always doing dangerous shit. He’s a career criminal.”
Why did she have to call me out like that?
She sighs, then pins me in place with a hard look. I break in seconds.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I can’t stop thinking about him, okay? But it doesn’t matter, because I made a decision. A final one. We don’t belong together. It’s too messy. Too much past pain. And who knows how much more future pain.”
She nods thoughtfully. “I agree.”
“You do?” I blurt, stunned. “But—but you took Bones back!” Why am I fighting her on this?