Page 78 of Loathe at First Sight

Dylan says, “Hold on there, little lady. Do you want to tell me why you are coming downstairs from Jack’s apartment with that just fucked look?”

“Just fucked? What does that mean?”

“Sex hair. Same clothes as yesterday. Satisfied look on your face.”

I grab his arm and tug him into Jack’s office so that no one else sees us. “Yes, something happened between Jack and I last night, but I really am not ready for that to become public knowledge right now, so can you help me get out of here?”

He points down one of the hallways. “There’s a back door that way. It’ll lead to a small yard. Just go through the gate, and you’ll be back on Main Street.”

“You’re the best,” I say, pinching one of his cheeks.

Now, I just need to hope that no one else in town sees me.

The rest of my day passes in a blur. I decide to do some deep cleaning at the inn, and it keeps me pretty well occupied—although my thoughts are still occupied by Jack.

I’m not quite sure where we stand, but he said he wanted to continue where we left off, and something about that makes me excited. So, I guess I’m just going with it.

I’m in the middle of thinking about all the ways Jack can fuck me when I hear a voice call from the lobby.

“Hello?”

I put down the rag I’ve been using to wipe down a baseboard and head to see who it is.

Hopefully, it’s someone wanting to check in.

But when I round the corner, I see Veronica standing at the desk.

Even better.

No matter what, my sister looks like she just stepped out of a magazine.

“Ronnie?”

“Hey, beautiful!”

She runs over and wraps her arms around me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m in town for a day, and I thought I would stop by and stay with my favorite sister.”

I laugh. “You probably say that to all your sisters.”

“You know what? I really don’t.” She smiles. “Now, I’m starving. What kind of junk food do you have in this place?”

We spend the next thirty minutes, raiding the kitchen and making a snack tray to take upstairs with us. Junk food goes perfectly with all of the trashy TV we are about to watch.

When we are both in our PJs and sitting on the bed, she looks at me and says, “So, a little birdy told me that you had some fun last night with a sexy mechanic.”

My mouth hangs open at her words. “Who—Who told you?” Before she can answer, I mutter, “I’m going to kill Dylan.”

“Do you think he’s told the whole damn family?”

She shakes her head. “I doubt it. He only told me because I stopped to see him first, and the fact that he was hiding a secret was written all over his face.”

“How?”

“It’s a twin thing. But tell me all about it! Was it amazing? Was he amazing?”

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