Page 76 of Dirty Player
“What’s number one?” Oliver asked, settling his hand at the base of my back.
Beaux quickly backed up as the movers pushed in.
“Where do you want your couch?” they asked, one of them looking at me as he continued walking backward. He lifted my couch over the boxes Beaux had just tripped over, essentially pushing him back into the wall at the same time.
“Where the nasty one currently is,” I replied. They were taking that and the old bed to the dumpster on the way out.
Seeming to ignore them as soon as they entered, and dodging their way as they began carrying out the old couch, Beaux glared at me teasingly.
“You remember when you were thirteen?” He shuddered as he asked the question.
“What happened when you were thirteen?” Oliver asked.
I rolled my eyes. “You were ten, and at some point you really have to get over it.”
Beaux shivered again. “Never.” Turning to Oliver, he said, “I walked in on her after a shower. All naked girl. Scarred me for life, I swear.”
“Funny. That’s one of the best things about your sister.”
If it was possible to truly turn green, Beaux did it. His hand flew to his mouth as he covered a vomiting sound and gagged. “Oh God. I’m going to throw up.”
I pointed down the hallway. Through my laughter, I said, “Bathroom’s that way.”
He hurried off, making exaggerating choking sounds, and when my phone rang I barely slid the screen a glance before I hit the speakerphone button.
Assuming it was Melissa, knowing it was getting close to when she’d be getting off work and calling to see how the move went, I answered and started talking.
“Hey, Mel! Thank you so much for—”
“Shannon.”
My eyes popped open at the sound of Patrick’s voice and my head whipped to Oliver.
“Patrick?” I asked, my throat going dry. Next to me, irritation began to prickle off Oliver’s skin, making my already tiny kitchen seem even smaller. “What do you want?”
He softened his voice—that tender one that used to make me melt into him, seeking his promises. “Babe, I came home from work and all the furniture’s gone. What’s going on?”
Oliver glared at the phone, and I saw his muscles begin to bunch beneath his short-sleeved shirt. He had a Rough Riders cap on, the bill covering his eyes and making it hard to see them, but I knew that hazel color was blazing.
“This isn’t a good time, Patrick. And I tried scheduling this with you, yet you refused. I told you Melissa would take care of it for me if you wouldn’t cooperate.”
“Honey, I thought we’d talk. I thought you agreed to see me.”
At that, those blazing eyes I couldn’t see burned into my flesh. I gritted my teeth and glared at Oliver and mouthedStop it.
His lip curled in response and I focused on the phone call.
“I did no such thing, Patrick. I’ve made it clear that I’ve moved on. You just refuse to listen.”
His voice tripped a bit when he asked, “Moved on? But, Shannon, you love me.”
“Not anymore, asshole.” Oliver’s thick, gritted voice came as a surprise and I gasped.
“What? Who is this?”
“The man whose dick was inside of your ex this morning, you fucking moron.”
“Oliver!” I shouted and then flashed wild eyes at Beaux, who was walking down the hallway. This was disintegrating quickly.
