Page 63 of His Big Bad Stick

I place my credit card on the counter.

I curl my lip at him. “Don’t worry about my fucking business.”

“We’ve done some weird things, but this…”

“Just help me get it into the truck,” I growl at Dax. “And be careful.”

“Since when are you an art collector?” Rhett asks.

“Part of helping me with this is keeping your mouths shut,” I say.

“Where are you taking all these?” Dax asks.

I stop and take a deep breath.

Faust, Turner, and Ben weren’t available to help me in a pinch.

So I’m stuck with Dax and Rhett and their damn million questions.

Granted, I get why they’re asking me this stuff.

“You want to know what this is?” I ask. “Some woman I want to fuck is into this art stuff so I’m buying it all so she’ll sleep with me.”

“Really?” Dax asks with a big smile.

“No,” I say.

“Yeah, there’s no way you’d do that,” Rhett says. “This is something else. This is a favor or something.”

“Someone from his past,” Dax says to Rhett.

“Definitely,” Rhett says. “An old flame. A fling. Maybe like one of those things where she was super-hot and he was ugly and now he wants to show off or something.”

“But then it would be for sex,” Dax says.

I let out a loud rumble inside my chest as I walk into the gallery for one last look around.

We cleaned the place out in no time.

My gigantic charge on the credit card warranted a call from the credit card company and from my accountant.

This is absolute insanity for me.

As much as I want to snap Simon’s neck like a pencil, this is the more realistic way to handle things.

Abrielle gets what she wants.

She gets her paintings and she gets distance from Simon.

I got what I wanted in return.

Do I want more of her? Of course I fucking do.

But I know better.

I’m going to unload all this artwork at her place and then be done with it all.

It’s all fair and done.

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