Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2) - Page 63

“Nothing.” I shrugged, proud of myself for being so nonchalant. I wasn’t exactly known for being able to mask my emotions. “I was shocked that he stopped by to help.”

“Yes, shocked, but thankful, right?” Dahlia frowned at me.

“Yes, Mom.” I rolled my eyes as I pulled open the drawer that held the old photo albums. I grabbed a couple and strolled back out of the office. “I showed gratitude to Vaughn Tremaine,” I assured them.

“Oh, Bailey, dear.” A guest, Ms. Schubert, strolled out of the downstairs restroom and stopped as she caught sight of us. A wicked glint of mischief glittered in her blue eyes as she came right up into my personal space. “I’m so glad that handsome man of yours was here to keep you company last night after that terrible ordeal. I must say it made me feel safer knowing he was here. Although, for future reference, my dear, my room is right above yours and I could hear everything. Of course, you were quite loud.” She giggled like a little girl. “You made an old woman very envious.” And with a conspiratorial chuck of my chin, Ms. Schubert strolled on upstairs to her room, leaving shocked silence in her wake.

Firm hands gripped my biceps, and I was hauled back into my office by Dahlia and Jess. Emery held the door open for them. They shoved me gently inside and then slammed the door closed.

Oh, holy hell.

I stared at them, my cheeks hot, my heart pounding. “Soundproofing,” I announced, my voice all high and squeaky. “It’s next on the list of things to do.”

“Showed gratitude?” Dahlia repeated my words from earlier, throwing her hands on her hips. “I thought you meant you said thank you, not that you let him screw you.”

You have no idea. “I . . .”

“Well?” Jessica stared at me in concern.

I glanced from her to Emery, who was biting her lip, like she was trying not to smile, and Dahlia who looked pissed I hadn’t told her.

“Fine!” I threw my hands up in embarrassed exasperation. “I fucked Vaughn.”

Emery blushed beetroot at my coarse language. “Oh my.”

“You wanted to know, Aurora,” I huffed, planting my ass on my desk.

“Elsa,” Jessica muttered.

“What?”

“She’s Elsa not Aurora.”

“Really?” Dahlia stared at her like she was crazy. “You want to argue which Disney character Em looks like or ask our friend how the hell she fell into bed with a man she hated two days ago?”

“Oh, I still hate him.”

“Explain.” Jess crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door. It was the universal body language of you’re going nowhere, bitch, until you tell me what I want to know.

It was days like today I wished I had friends who didn’t give a shit.

“It was a onetime thing. A mistake.”

That seemed to piss Jess off. “You used him? Bailey, you know how he feels about you. No wonder he was so pissy today.”

I wanted to defend myself but revealing the truth, telling them what really happened, somehow felt worse than their censure. “I got attacked last night, Jess. Forgive me, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight with all that adrenaline coursing through my body. And yes, I was grateful toward Tremaine for being there and stopping Stu. So we had sex. Then he went home. End of story. And FYI he doesn’t care about me. He wanted to screw me. He got what he wanted. Now we’re done.”

“That can’t be the end of the story.” Dahlia sounded horrified. “This is Bailey Hartwell and Vaughn Tremaine. This is epic enemies-to-lovers shit!” She eyed me, a thought flitting through her big blue eyes. “Was he not good?”

My shoes were suddenly very interesting to me. “I don’t remember.”

“He was good,” Dahlia surmised.

“How good?” Emery said.

I jerked my head up, stunned by the curiosity in her question. Her cheeks were bright red again.

Jess grinned. “Yeah, how good?”

Tags: Samantha Young Hart's Boardwalk Romance
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