CAMILA

“Didyou guys hear about Judge Masters?”

I jerk my head around to Harley so fast that I feel a twinge of pain in my neck.

“What?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from squeaking.

“Supposedly, he was seen in Mahan County coming out of one of those cheap motels a couple of days ago,” Harley answers, looking from me to Penelope, who is on her other side, then back to me.

I look back down at the string of nail color options, pretending to browse. My palms sweat and my heart races a mile a minute. “So?”

“That’s not the juicy part.” Harley pauses a moment. “Before he left, he was also seen kissing a woman, that’s not his wife, in the doorway.”

Shit. This is not good. Not good at all.

I shift in my seat, sending up a silent prayer that my sisters don’t notice the anxiety that’s suddenly hit me. I want to jerk my feet from the pedicure bath and run from the salon. Then hunt down Brady and ask what in the hell do we do.

Feeling Penelope’s perceptive eyes on me, I make sure to keep mine away from her. I try to regulate my breathing when I ask, “Whoever saw him didn’t see who the woman was?”

The better question is, am I going to end up in a shallow ditch somewhere with my throat cut open. Because, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised that Addison would do something like that if she found out about Brady and me having an affair. I said it before, the woman is a psycho.

“No. They couldn’t make her out, and as soon as Brady stepped back, she went back inside and closed the door. She had dark hair though.”

“Does Addison know?”

Harley lifts a shoulder. “No clue. But I would assume she doesn’t or she’d be raising havoc all over town. The woman is crazy when it comes to Brady. Though, it’s only a matter of time before she does find out, and God help whoever the woman is.”

No truer words have been spoken. Don’t get me wrong. If the altercation were fair, I don’t doubt I could hold my own against Addison. I grew up with three sisters the same age as me. We fought all the time, and it wasn’t just little bickers. We pulled hair, slapped, bit, kicked, and threw shit at each other. Not to mention the abuse we endured by the hands of our father who taught us at an early age to be as tough as nails. And once we were old enough to learn, our older brother, Wesley, made sure we could defend ourselves.

No matter how Addison chose to come at me, whether physically or mentally, I could take and endure whatever she dished out. If she played fair. That’s the thing with Addison though. She doesn’t fight fair. She’s manipulative, used to getting her own way, and is willing to do anything to get what she wants.

My thoughts are called to a halt when the door to the salon is opened and Macy Deluca walks inside. Macy and Michael lived across the street from us when we were kids, and Penelope babysat their toddler, Kai, for a few years.

Macy stops where we’re sitting in the pedicure recliners and greets us all.

“How’s Kai doing at the office?” she asks.

Penelope recently hired Kai as an intern for her PR firm. When I first got a look at him after he came back from college, I was floored. He left as a gangly eighteen-year-old and came back as a fully grown, well-built, hot-as-hell man.

“He’s doing fine. A great addition to the company,” Penelope answers.

As they chit chat, I go back to thinking about my Brady situation. It’s been two days since Brady and I spent that second night in the motel. If I were smart, I’d make that our last time and just let the memories of our time together get me through the lonely nights.

But I know that won’t happen. I’ve grown too addicted to his touch, and the more I think about never having it again, the more I crave it.

* * *

Thirty minutes later,just as I close my car door, the passenger side is pulled open and Harley plops down in the seat. She stares ahead, her eyes focused on something outside the windshield. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head, trying to come up with a way to say whatever it is she wants to say. I stay silent.

“I know it was you,” she says quietly before turning her green eyes my way.

Hiding my growing trepidation behind a confused expression, I play dumb, “You know I was who?”

She turns more in her seat. “The woman Brady was at the motel with.”

Picking up my bottle from the center console, I laugh, but I’m afraid it comes out more like a nervous giggle. “You’re crazy.”

“Come on, Cam. I’m your sister. You can tell me.”

Tags: Alex Grayson Erotic
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