Breaking Even (Sterling Shore 5)

Then I glare at my front door, contemplating doing something foul right now. I was too busy to do anything to him today. Damn. Next time I’ll make time.

“That’s it. If you want to be a part of this war, then I’m about to start including you,” I growl.

She stands and shakes her head, still laughing. “Oh no. I’m Switzerland. I don’t want to be involved.”

“Being Switzerland means you’re neutral. You’re not frigging neutral. You’re a traitor—Benedict Arnold.”

She only laughs harder while sitting back down on the couch, clutching her side as though it hurts.

I’ll pay him back. I just need to think of something good. His mayonnaise donut prank was actually lame compared to my glitter prank. I’m still out in front. I think. Well, his blue dye trap did make me go to the hair stylist before my date.

“I’m going to take a shower. Then I’m kicking your ass,” I mumble, ignoring her snickers as I head to my room.

It takes less than two minutes to strip down and get in the shower. Stepping under the warm water after a terrible day is always comforting. I’ve been in a stiff skirt, an itchy jacket, and a ruffled blouse all day. I look drabber than a ninety-year-old librarian when I go to work.

After washing the day away, I step out, wrap a towel around me and my wet hair, and set to work finding something comfortable to wear. As soon as I open my panty drawer, a scream bubbles out as a hairy beast stares at me.

Perverted spider!

“Shoo!” I urge, acting like the damn thing has a clue what I’m saying.

It runs toward me, and I leap backwards, stumbling and falling onto my grounded bed. This guy is going to be the death of me. But I’ll be the death of him first. Game on.

With cautious and ca

reful maneuvers, I grab a glass from my dresser and time my attack just right. With a quick slam, I’ve got the monster pinned under the glass, and a sigh of triumph graces my lips. Now I just have to get him out of my room.

How the hell do I do that? When it jumps under the glass, forcing me to squeal, I consider giving it the damn room and moving out.

“You okay?” Maggie asks, sounding so damn entertained.

“Just caught Killer,” I announce, keeping a wary eye on the spider that could just be pretending to be captured.

“The spider?” she squeaks.

I should transport this thing to her panty drawer and let it terrorize her. But I don’t need two wars going on at once, so I refrain.

“Yep.”

I’ll deal with the spider later. Right now I just want to dry my hair, collapse onto my broken bed, and then maybe read or rest.

Nah. I’ll be scheming. That’s what I want to do.

My smile grows as I head to the bathroom and unwind my hair from the towel. I grab the hairdryer and turn it on, but another stupid scream leaves my lips, forcing me to inhale the vicious white powder that sprays me and the rest of the bathroom.

I’m going to kill him!

“What’d he do?” Maggie cackles, relishing every second of her spectator’s seat.

The distinct smell tells me it’s baby powder that just attacked me. Asshole. I hate baby powder. How did he get it into my hairdryer?

Maggie’s laughter grows louder when she’s suddenly in the room with me, looking over my tragic state. My hair is spattered, and with it being wet, the powder is matting against it. That’s going to be a bitch to get out.

My eyes are barely squinted slits that are surrounded by the white hell that is covering my face, and only a thin line of my lips is visible.

I really wish I had dried off better. The water just made it stick to me too well. I hate him. Hate him. Hate him. Hate him.

“Are you growling?” Maggie asks, and I glare at her.