Page 97 of House of Desire

“You know what about. I’m sorry to interrupt your date.” If I didn’t know every expression her face makes, I would have missed the infinitesimal smirk that passes over it. “I don’t plan to be here very long, so maybe, if you could find the time?”

I look back at Anya as she moves closer to the door. My stomach twists and turns and the younger version of me, the one that was left behind, wars with the man I am now.

“It’s okay,” Anya whispers.

“Give me a second,” I say to Brittany, shutting the door in her face, before turning toward my girlfriend who looks like she’s about ready to bolt.

“Anya, I don’t know what she’s doing here,” I say, panicked.

“It’s okay. You should talk to her. I can just go home.”

“Baby, please. I want you here,” I say, almost begging her to stay, but I know, even if she does stay, the night is ruined. I’ll be distracted the entire time.

“And I want to be here, but this is more important.”

She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me, but as she tries to pull away, I band my arms around her, holding her like I’m trying to fuse us together.

“Parker,” she whispers, “you need to let me go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Panic grips me.

“Promise?” I can’t let her go without knowing she won’t disappear from my life.

“Promise.”

I drop my arms and hold out my keys.

“Take my truck. I’ll have Mitchel bring me to get it tomorrow.”

She takes them, and opens the door, Brittany standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Sorry to ruin your night,” Brittany says as Anya walks past her, her voice the one I immediately recognize as her mean girl voice. Any time she was going to give someone a backhanded compliment, that was the voice she used. My hackles immediately rise. I open my mouth to say something, but Anya takes care of it.

“You didn’t ruin it. I’ll have plenty of other nights with him. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Brittany’s arms drop when her dig doesn’t land, but I don’t care. I all but preen at Anya’s claiming of me. I see a small slice of the smile she gives Brittany, and I’m just glad I’m not on the receiving end of it. I don’t think I’d have any balls left.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask Brittany, stepping out of the way as Anya beeps my truck unlocked.

“Thanks, Parky,” she says, using the nickname I haven’t heard in so long. Anya waves as I look at her until the door blocks my line of sight.

My foyer is empty when I turn around. I move into the house, finding Brittany running her finger over the back of my leather sofa.

“How did you find out where I live?” I ask, anger starting to seep into my tone.

“Nice place,” she says, looking up at the high ceilings. “It suits you.”

“You’re not here to talk about my house, Brittany. What do you want?” I fold my arms over my chest, closing myself off.

“How about a drink?” She flops down on my couch, making herself at home, and it sets my teeth on edge.

“Fine. But only if you tell me how you found my address.” I move through the arched opening into the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge. I take a long swig of mine and walk back to her, holding it out by the neck.

“Private investigator. I needed to talk to you and you changed your phone number.” She grabs the drink from me. “Thanks,” she says with a smile.

I take a seat in the chair across from her. Normally I’d be pissed about the extreme invasion of privacy, but it doesn’t hold a candle to my worry about how Anya’s feeling right now.

Brittany’s had the upper hand since she showed up on my doorstep. But I know she won’t answer anything until she’s good and ready. Instead of peppering her with questions, trying to force her to talk to me like I used to, I just drink my beer and wait looking around the room like I've never been in here before.

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