Page 78 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

He turned, flashing me a devilish grin. “Mrs. Bentley cooks. But I’m very good at heating things up.”

“Who’s Mrs. Bentley?” I called after him, but he didn’t answer me. He disappeared from the room, leaving me alone with a necklace that was far too beautiful and a heart that was beating far too fast.

* * *

Logan had tried to convince me to stay at his apartment while he was at practice, but I’d refused. That felt too close to a “girlfriend” thing.

So now I was trying to find distractions back at my place, which suddenly felt cold and empty…and lonely. I ended up in my studio, which I never visited while I was in the middle of a job. But I was here, and I was feeling…strangely inspired. This piece was different from my others, more hopeful. Even when I was painting landscapes of places I’d traveled to, I tended to drown the paintings in dark colors, sunny days becoming stormy nights.

But not today.

Today I was painting a field of ranunculus flowers I’d seen at Carlsbad Ranch when I was visiting San Diego last year. Andtoday, the sky was staying sunny.

The elevator out in the entry dinged, and I stiffened, all the sparkles Logan had given me, disappearing like they’d never existed at all. The only one who had the code to get up here…was Everett.

Fuck.

I set my paints down and wiped off my hands, knowing that I wouldn’t be in the mood to paint anymore after finishing with him. Walking out of the room, I took a deep breath as I caught sight of him, sitting on my couch like he owned the place.

Which I guess…he did.

In his tailored suit and crisp white shirt, he looked every inch the powerful man he was. His eyes swept over me, calculating as ever, and a familiar chill crept up my spine.

“Everett,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

“What a way to greet your uncle. Want to try again?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he continued to eye me.

I smoothed my hands down my top, wishing that I was dressed appropriately for one of his visits.

“Uncle, what a pleasant surprise,” I said obediently, pasting a practiced smile on my face.

He stared at me unnervingly for a second. “Better.” Everett glanced at this watch. “It’s been a few days, Sloane,” he said. I bit down on my lip. Everett liked to keep a close eye on his…girls. “Why haven’t I heard from you?”

“Just busy with…Mr. York.” For some reason it tasted wrong on my tongue to talk about Logan with Everett.

“I’ve been worried about you, Sloane. Something’s different. Anything you want to tell me?” He was using his voice that usually succeeded in getting information out of me. But today it wasn’t making me want to give him…anything.

My skin felt clammy, and I clasped my hands in front of me, trying to steady myself. “Nothing new.”

He continued to study my face, and I was terrified he could see all the chaos of my thoughts.

Everett stood up, glancing around like he was assessing how I’d been taking care of the place he’d provided for me. When he finally turned back, his expression was unreadable. “You’ve got another job.”

I fell back a step and then quickly recovered, cursing myself for having a reaction. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, forcing my features to relax. “Another job?” I echoed, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.

“Yes.” He straightened his cuffs, his movements deliberate. “Tonight. Eight o’clock sharp.”

My stomach churned.Logan. His voice was in my head again, low and certain.If another man touches you, I’ll kill him.

“I—I thought that I was booked with Logan for the whole week.”

There was a long pause, and I knew I’d just shown my cards. Fuck.

“It almost sounds as if this other job is a problem for you,” Everett said coldly.

“No. That’s not what I?—”

“Do I need to remind you that everything you have is because of me?”

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