Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I frown at her. “It is your house and that’s why I backed you up. But the whole throwing down the gauntlet, I stay if they go shit. What in the hell was that? If the first time I met Bridget and Abbie I told them to get the fuck out of your house what would you say?”
Her face drops. “Carson was rude to Brigetta, Josh. I had to stand up to him.”
I shake my head as I stand up. “Carson is rude to most people, Natasha, and it is my place to pull him up—not yours,” I snap.
“He told me to fuck off, Josh. Please don’t tell me you condone that.”
“He thought you were a bimbo I just picked up. He had no idea you were important. He would never have spoken to you like that if he did.”
She glares at me. “Oh right, how stupid of me. I keep forgetting that you constantly pick up bimbos. You fucking sleazebag!” She storms through to my bathroom and slams the door.
I am not taking this shit for one more minute. I storm downstairs and through to my gym.
En route I pick up my phone to text Carson.
Misunderstanding tonight, mate. I will call you tomorrow.
I blow out a breath. How in the hell do I explain this situation? What a fucking bitch. Who in the hell does she think she is, fucking sleazebag? She has no idea. A text comes back from Carson.
What time is your operation tomorrow?
Huh, what in the hell is he talking about?
What operation?
A reply immediately bounces back.
The one to get the thumb print on your forehead surgically removed.
Fuck. That’s it. I’m fuming. I throw my phone onto the lounge with such force it bounces back onto the floor and I storm to my gym.
I set the pace on high and start to run for my life. If I stay on here long enough, I might just calm down enough to be able to go to bed. What I really feel like doing is ringing the boys to come back and pick me up and hitting the clubs where the women don’t speak or call me a fucking sleazebag, or tell my friends to get the fuck out. But I know I will regret it in the morning. I always do. I’ve worked too damn hard to get her back here to fuck it up now. She’s got me between a rock and a hard place, and she damn well knows it. I’ll stay on this treadmill all night if I have to, anything is better than getting into bed with that raving bitch.
Two hours later, I am exhausted and dripping wet as I leave my gym and head out to the pool. I strip off and dive in and swim a couple of laps. It’s good to be home, I’ve missed my house. I love this pool. It’s a twenty-meter-lap infinity pool at one end and the other end has a beach area for kids and a swim-up bar. The overhead trees are all lit up with fairy lights and there are ground spotlights scattered everywhere in the garden. It’s huge, it took them eight months to complete, but I love the whole resort feel going on, and it’s great for entertaining. I purse my lips, hmm, there’s a question. Will I ever be entertaining again? I knew my life would be different when I moved back with her, but I didn’t expect the change to be rammed down my throat. I trudge up the stairs from the pool and grab a towel out of the cupboard and wrap it around my waist. I head to my inside bar to pour myself a Cointreau and ice. I open a packet of darts and take the bottle and the cigarettes back out to the deck chairs near the pool. I need to clear my head.
I am on my second glass when I am asked from behind, “What are we drinking?” I put my head up and see
Natasha sinking into the deck chair next to me with an empty glass full of ice. She probably wants to grill me about smoking now too. She holds her glass out to me and I give her a small smile and fill it.
“Cointreau,” I reply.
She nods as she takes a sip. “I like it with Coke—do we have any?”
I frown. “You like Cointreau?” I ask, quite shocked.
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Yes, but with Coke.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I think there is some in the pool bar fridge,” I reply. She rises from her seat and I watch her walk around the pool and down the steps into the pool bar. She fills her glass, puts some ice in her cup and walks back around to sit in the deck chair next to me. I look at her as I bite my bottom lip.