Page 17 of Seeds of Malice

Dax keeps his disapproving expression aimed at Bobby and Avery.

A different ringtone fills the air, and Bobby pulls his phone out of his pocket. He glances at the screen and groans. "You're fucking up my mojo, Dax." He hits the screen and turns, walking away, answering, "Marcey. You miss me already, babe?"

Avery opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of hard seltzer. She opens it and takes a sip. Then she grabs another one, removes the cap, and holds it toward me. "Have a drink, Ivy."

"No, thanks," I reply.

She adds, "It doesn't have any carbs."

I refrain from rolling my eyes. All this talk about carbohydrates is annoying me. She's thin as a rail. Why is she worrying about her weight? Instead, I say, "Thanks, but I'm good."

Her eyes narrow. "Don't tell me you don't drink."

I take a deep breath. It's not the first time someone's tried to get me to drink. Something tells me she's going to hold it over my head. Still, I shake my head and answer, "No, I don't."

Amusement fills her expression. She holds it out closer to me. "Then welcome to the Carrington Estate. Time you grew up. Here, start with this."

Dax scolds, "Shut up, Avery. If she doesn't drink, then she doesn't drink."

She snaps her head toward him. "Stop acting like her savior, Dax. You can only keep up your saint-like attitude so long before she discovers the real you. Might as well show her who Dax Carrington is right now."

Her comment pisses me off. Dax has been nothing but nice to me. I step toward her and politely—and forcefully enough to get my point across—say, "I don't drink, Avery. Thanks, but you don't have to offer me any ever again." I turn toward Dax and smile. "You ready to make those burgers?"

He tosses another nasty look at his sister and then smiles at me. He nods, answering, "Sounds good. Why don't you help me after all?"

"Would love to."

He leads me to the grill and mutters, "I'm sorry about them. Don't hold them against me."

My insides warm once more. I can't ignore how much I like Dax.

He has a girlfriend,I remind myself.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

It's better to have him as a friend than not at all.

I smile again. "Nothing."

He spins the knob on the grill. The flames burst under the metal grate. He lowers his voice and says, "Your frown tells me something is bothering you. Is it what they just did?" His eyes darken.

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

He looks at me like he doesn't believe me.

I blurt out, "How was your phone call with your girlfriend?"

"Cindy?"

"Yeah."

"She's not my girlfriend," he claims, then clenches his jaw.

Relief fills me. Still, I question, "No?"

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