Page 21 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

I looked at the photo. Embarrassed by my wistful expression, I squirmed in the chair, then placed the picture on the floor. “These accusations really make a mockery of the app. An abuser using safety as something to hide behind. Like I’m some sort of con. They make me look like a hypocrite of epic proportions. Did you see the other fun spin that we hired you, and because I got aggressive with you, now you won’t work with me? Notice that you’ve been named? The armchair experts in the comment section have a lot to say.”

“Ugh.” She pulled the covers up over her head again.

“This is why I didn’t want you involved, Reenie. I don’t want to bring you down with me.”

She grunted, then sighed and from under the covers and said, “This isn’t your fault.” Had the room not been so quiet, I might not have heard it.

“Pained you to say that, didn’t it?”

“You will never know how much.”

I took in her long form stretched out but hidden under the comforter. “Do you still sleep with your toes linked?” I’d never known anyone else who went to sleep with their big toes hooked together.

“You don’t know me anymore, Cal. I left that Reenie behind in Vegas.” She was still under the sheets, and though I couldn’t see her face, I heard the hint of sadness in her voice.

“I’m holding a press conference. I want you there to show that we aren’t working together and that I didn’t assault you.”

She snorted. “Because no woman has ever been forced to stand before a crowd and lie about something like that. There is no way anyone will believe me. That’s a dumb idea. Leave the key on the counter, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” She yawned.

I stood quietly and moved to the edge of the bed to position myself beside her crossed feet. I don’t know her, my ass. I picked up the edge of the comforter with both hands and, in one swift jerk, flung the comforter off her and onto the floor.

I pointed to her toes. “You do still sleep with your toes hooked. You big weirdo.”

Sabrina bolted upright. “What the hell is wrong with you!” she yelled. “All I want to do is sleep.”

“We have a press conference to do and our names to separate. Trust me, you need to do this.” I pointed toward her en-suite bathroom.

“Trust you? Ha. Not on your heinous life, buddy!” But she got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

ChapterNine

SABRINA

Because I felt petulant, I debated wearing long sleeves and slacks just to make it look like I might be hiding something, but I really hated assumed-to-be-true narratives and the ethically deprived people who created them. And judging by the number of missed calls and texts I had, many people I knew were buying into it.

So instead I wore a gauzy white sleeveless top and a dark-brown above-the-knee skirt, both showing off a lot of my legs and arms. I put my hair up in a high ponytail to show off my neck as well. I kept my makeup light and my lipstick glossy and natural. Hearing Cal banging around in my kitchen rankled me, so I quietly slipped out of my house to make a quick stop by his car with a liquid chalk marker. I really had thought, when I left yesterday, I wouldn’t see him again.

Fooled you, said the universe.

Then I joined Cal in my kitchen. He’d taken the liberty of making coffee, and his familiarity with my kitchen unnerved me, reminding me of our past and all the times he’d spent here with both me and Dad. I made a mental note to reorganize my cabinets so next time he’d be thrown off.

Ahh. What was I saying? There will not be a next time. We were going to part ways after this press conference, and that would be that. I would go back to my life of pretending Calvin Beckett didn’t exist.

Take that, universe.

“You’re wearing that?” I scanned him up and down.

“Yeah, I thought a suit and tie might make me look like a douche. Not that what I wear will matter. They’ll say what they want.” He pushed a mug of coffee toward me.

My eyes narrowed. He’d dolled it up for me just how I liked it. I wanted to throat-punch him for always subtly reminding me of his familiarity.

I picked up the mug and dumped the coffee into the sink. “I don’t drink it like that anymore.” Liar, liar.

I poured a fresh cup of coffee, leaving it naked, then turned to face him as I leaned against the counter. I took a sip and strained to keep my eye from twitching. Black coffee was bitter and disgusting.

His lips pursed. “I reserved a conference room at the hotel where I’m staying. You want to ride with me or follow?”

“Follow, of course.”

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