Page 67 of Canvas

I snort. Really loud.

“Fate had nothing to do with it, Mrs. Merriweather. Logic and calculation were my reasons for staying here,” that and lots and lots of miles between here and where I came from. And my father.

“Pfffft, nonsense. We might think we’re in control, love, but ‘im up there,” she points upward, “is in charge of everything. Never you mind, ‘twas fate, it was,” she nods emphatically.

“Mrs. Merriweather, really…,” my words are cut off by the chiming of the door. I turn around.

No fucking way!

Rock and Queen Wifezilla come walking in. She looks like the curvy cat in heat that ate the canary. He, at least, has the decency to appear annoyed next to her.

I’m shocked. I’m so shocked I’m riveted to my spot, not a single part of my body wants to function, not even my brain. I haven’t even begun to fathom the possibilities of WHY he is with HER.

“Summer,” Rock says my name low and tense.

The sound of it in his voice triggers an avalanche of emotions and images of all the pornographic things they were doing together. Things like we did. Last night. Everything crashes down on me, her naked with Rock’s cock between her big tits, fucking them, as she begs him to fuck her hard, his Prince Albert piercing flapping up and down like a door knocker. The impact is powerful and physically pushes me back.

“What would you like?” the question comes out automatically, albeit curt and short. I’ve been saying it probably a hundred times a day to every single person that comes in here, it’s second nature. I glance at the perfectly manicured and silicone implanted bitch at his side and clamp my mouth shut. It looks like you’ve already gotten what you like.

“Summer,” he repeats my name, this time more demanding. “Don’t. She was at the shop for the guys.”

What the hell?! And don’t what? Be insulted you come waltzing into my shop with her after we spent the night together having a sexathon? That what? Or do you prefer the sexathons with your boys and this bimbo? Of course I don’t say any of these things, I just glare at him and shout the words with the daggers shooting at him from my eyes.

My gaze slices to her.

“Yes,” she coos as she wraps her hand familiarly around Rock’s arm. “They were soooooo good to me.” She chuckles that fake sweet way. “Even Rock. He promised to take really good care of me, didn’t you?”

She really did screw all of them! Together! And apparently he’s going to fuck her too.

I know my jaw’s just hit the floor. My eyes bounce back and forth from Rock to her not believing what I’m seeing and hearing.

“Sasha,” that’s her name. “Get a grip.” He peels her hand from his forearm.

Another sickening chuckle. Then she leans her body into his, presses her breasts against his arm and whispers, “Oh, I’ve gripped it alright. Gripped so many over and over, I don’t think I can sit for a week.”

What. The. Fuck?!

Holding her at arm’s length, he grits out, “Well, if you don’t fucking chill, I’m sure your husband will make sure of it when he finds out. Why don’t you go and sit with your little friends?”

“You don’t have to be such a killjoy, Rock,” she runs a long fingernail down his front as she pouts. “Summer,” she throws at me as she walks away, “a double shot skinny mochaccino. I need the extra caffeine, I’m so tired.” Another fucking chuckle.

Rock turns his full attention to me. His jaw is tense and his lips are tight. “It’s not what you think.”

I cock an eyebrow at him.

The fuck it’s not! She fucked all your friends and she wants to fuck you too! And it looks like you’re probably going to. I launch another tirade at him from my eyes.

“It is, but it isn’t, Summer. I’m not going to fucking lie to you,” he scrubs his face with his hand in frustration, “but this is not the place nor the time to discuss it.”

“You’re right, I’ve got work to do. If you’d like to order something, go ahead. If not, then have a nice day.” I turn and walk behind the counter, giving him my back, my spine stiff and ramrod straight.

I’m so mad right now, there’s probably smoke coming out of my ears, I’m fuming.

As I make Sasha’s coffee, I hear Rock’s footsteps as he moves away, then as he comes back only to stand right next to me behind the counter, so close I can feel his breath on my hair.

“You’re going to listen to me, princess, even if I have to tie you down to do it. She was at the shop, I left, she followed. That’s it.” He’s shouting at me in a gravelly whisper.

I’m about to ask him who the hell he thinks he is when I catch Mrs. Merriweather saying something to Sasha out of the corner of my eye.

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