Sledgehammer (Hard to Love 2)

It dawns on me, then. He’s going to be entertaining these women in his bedroom, one door down from me…less than twelve feet from my ears. This is what I have to look forward to. Fun times ahead.

Jaw locked, he’s staring at the ceiling. Discomfort is all over him, the muscles of his chest and arms taut.

“Want me to get rid of her for you?” I throw it out casually. I figure I’ll help him out this one time. After what he’s done for me, it seems only fair. However, if he’s going to hit it and quit it on the regular, he’s on his own. I will gladly feed him to the she-wolves, grab a bag of popcorn, and enjoy the show.

His gaze snaps back to me, his expression now bright with hope. “Could you?”

Could I? It takes some effort to tamp down the smug grin dying to spread across my face. “No sweat.”

He looks genuinely relieved. This dude is full of surprises. As I head to the front door, a pronounced masculine cough gets my attention. Vaughn is pointing at my legs, a rosy glow under his tan, one I imagine he got sailing, or playing polo, or maybe counting stacks of cash outdoors.

“You might want to put some pants on.”

Not that it matters, because I’m basically built like a thirteen year old boy, but I lift my t-shirt to reveal my pajama shorts. “Make yourself scarce,” I say as I reach for the door.

The brunette, Alexa, has her finger poised to ring for the fourth time. Seeing me, she tilts her head and frowns. Her gray eyes glide up and down my person, pausing meaningfully at the writing on my t-shirt.

“I’m looking for Ethan.” When she attempts to look beyond me, I’m one step ahead, swaying to stay in her line of sight. “Ethan Vaughn.”

“Bulgy eyes? Short?”

“No,” she replies, voice dripping in condescension. “Tall and gorgeous.”

“Oh, you mean, Fancy McButterpants. Yeah, he’s…uh…indisposed at the moment.”

“Is he okay?” Her concern is nowhere near genuine.

“I don’t think so.”

Surprise struggles to appear on her chemically frozen face. “I should check on him.” When she sidesteps to enter, I once again slide in her way.

“He’s got a ragging case of diarrhea.” That may have come out a little louder than necessary.

“Oh.”

Her discomfort emboldens me to continue. “You know, the angry sort that makes you pray for a speedy death.”

His slender nose crinkles. “No, I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. We’ve all had it. He barely made it to the bathroom.” She looks properly grossed out. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Alexa.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Fancy you stopped by. That is, if he ever makes it out of the bathroom alive.”

Her eyes turn into slits. “And you are––”

“Seriously overdue for a shower. Long night,” I say with a side-eyed smirk. “Anysomethin’, nice to meet you. Bye, Lexi.”

“Alexa.”

“Right.”

With that, I shut the door and skip to the kitchen. Where I find Fancy leaning against the island with his arms crossed in front of that stripper worthy chest, his face as neutral as the Swiss.

“A ragging case?”

“You’re welcome.”

“The angry sort?”

“You think she would’ve gone away if I suggested you had a tummy ache? That is a hardened stalker you’ve got there, Fancy Pants.”

He shakes his head, his gaze falling to the floor. When he lifts his chin, he has his poker face back on.

“I got rid of her, didn’t I?” Turning on my fluffy heels, I head up stairs.

After heading to the corner market, I spent the better part of the day in bed, worrying about my future and pretending to read. As late afternoon welcomes the dark, I crawl out of my bunker of despair and into the bathroom. I have no idea where Fancy is, nor do I care. The magnitude of my plight has finally sunk in and I can think of little else.

After a terrible shower with practically no water pressure, I find a message from Camilla on my cell and call her back.

“Tell me everything.”

“Well, outside it’s Windsor Palace, and inside it’s a dump.” I run a finger along the lampshade and inspect the dust that it picked up. “I’m living with Miss Havisham.”

“I mean, what happened at the party––with Parker?”

I was afraid of that. It’s like someone stuck a pin in me. I instantly deflate, a thousand pounds landing on my shoulders. “I can’t do serious right now,” I mumble. “If I do serious, I’ll get hysterical. I’ll cry and I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“We won’t do serious, then.”

This is why I love her. No one understands me the way Cam does. “Okay, good.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Back to Ethan as Miss Havisham. Does that make you Estella?”

“Of course not, it makes me Pip. He’s more Estella than I am.”

“And the townhouse is a wreck?”