Page 5 of Treacherous

It wouldn't have been so bad, but the fact that I'd been partially exposed kind of killed my buzz when he dropped me onto a huge leather couch and I was faced with three Mr. Carter look-a-likes, all equally gorgeous, all with a full view of my crotch.

To make a long story short, the cops were called and Noah and I were both asked if we wanted to press charges on each other. Noah said no and that we'd settle it between us, and I, being terrified of uniformed policemen, had earnestly agreed with him.

We then each received a caution and were advised to keep our distance from one another.

All three Carter boys, their father, and their bald uncle, had then proceeded to walk me home – all the way across the street – while I tried to discourage one of the boy's – I think his name was Cameron – from setting up camp in my living room.

The only good thing that had come from the whole ordeal was the fact that I'd shown Ellie and Noah that I wasn't going to lie down and let them walk all over me. Screw them. Neither of them had to like me. They didn't even have to speak to me. They just had to fuck off and leave me alone.

I only had ten months left in this place and I'd already managed to survive three months of Ellie's bullying. I could do this.

Yeah…

I could manage ten months in a brand new school, in a different country, on another continent.

Martin was the only thing I took solace in and because it was a beautiful day I decided to go outside and play with him.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I strolled outside and sat cross-legged in the shade. With Martin resting on my thigh I began to play.

I should probably state for the record that Martin is made of rosewood and accompanied by six strings. Owned and given to me by my mother a month before she died, my guitar – who I'd aptly named Martin after its makerMartin & Co.– was my pride and joy. I would never be the world's greatest guitarist, but I was decent and held a note which kept my bank balance healthy whenever I busked.

Clasping my capo on the third fret, I closed my eyes and allowed my fingers to glide over the strings as I played note after intricate note, finger plucking my way through my own version of Eva Cassidy'sSongbird.

I was almost finished, belting out the chorus, when a blast of icy cold water hit me full force on the chest, spilling onto my fourteen hundred euro guitar and boiling the blood in my veins.

I sat on the grass completely dumbfounded for a moment before jerking to my feet and glowering at the perpetrator over the wall with the garden hose pointed at my chest.

My spine stiffened at the sight of Satin-in-a-bikini and my hackles rose.

There was no denying that Ellie Dennis was gorgeous – could've been Kelly Brook's twin in the curves stakes – with long locks of raven colored hair and exotic green eyes, but then again there was no denying the fact that she was bat-shit crazy.

I wasn't an argumentative person as a rule, but I wasn't a pushover either. If Ellie wanted to spar with me, I wasn't backing down.

"What the hell is your problem?" I demanded as my temper bubbled dangerously close to the edge. "You've been a walking hormone since I moved in."

"You are," she said in a bored tone of voice as she placed one hand on her bare hip, and held an impressive looking iPad in the other. "I don't like you."

"You don't even know me," I shot back in annoyance. "Don't you think you're being a tad judgmental?"

"I don't need to know you in order to make an accurate judgment," she sneered, narrowing her green eyes at me as she leered at me from her side of the wall "FYI, you're not in the middle of a swamp anymore, Irish. You have neighbors now, so keep the damn noise down."

"Swamp." I rolled my eyes at her. "It's called a bog." Smiling sweetly I added, "And as far as neighbors go I'm astounded by your hospitality." I inclined my head slightly. "When should I expect the welcoming basket of muffins?"

"Don't push me," she warned as she pointed the hose at Martin. "You really don't want me as your enemy."

I thought you already were…"Why don't you go and point your hose at something else."

"Or what?" shecountered in a spiteful tone of voice.

Or what?"Do you think you're the only person with access to running water?"

I laughed in surprise when her brows furrowed. Ha. "You did?" Oh this was priceless. I was living next door to Barbie.

Reaching down, I grabbed my bottle of water and unscrewed the lid. "You want a war, Dennis, you've got one."

With that I leaned over the chest-high wall and tossed the contents over her head, cackling evilly when she screamed and tried to protect her hair with her iPad.

"You're so dead," she spat as she brushed her hair back from her face. If looks could kill I would be dead. "Your card is marked, Irish," she spat. "You're done around here."

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