Page 18 of Rough Around the Hedges

And definitely not remembering the sight of his head between my legs.

No, siree.

Not me. Not my inner hussy.

Sigh.

“I didn’t think he was that bad.” Isa paused. “Surprisingly flirty with you, though.”

Jake choked on his beer. “What kind of weirdo would be flirty with my sister?”

I’d be offended if he didn’t make an excellent point.

It wasn’t like my love life was some kind of intense rave. If I was being honest, it was a stretch to refer to it as a ‘love life.’

It was more a casual, regretful sex life.

Especially right now. I was drowning in a big, huge, massive, ginormous bucket of regret.

It tasted just like my hangover would tomorrow morning.

“I’m telling you; he was definitely flirting.” Isa tapped her nails against the table. “Why else wouldn’t he be interested in me when I was right there?”

Shaun peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “Isadora, your narcissism is showing.”

She held up her middle finger without looking at him. “You know him, don’t you?”

I blinked. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Rose.”

I turned away, staring at the wall.

“Rosie Posieeeee,” she sang, grinning at me. “All you’re doing is getting me interested.”

“Call me that again. Go on. I dare you.” I glared at her and gulped down a huge mouthful of wine. “If you value your life, you’ll never say such a thing again.”

“Ugh.”

Shaun sighed. “I know what’s going on here.” He turned to Jake and cocked his thumb over his shoulder. “You should leave if you don’t want to hear anything that’ll traumatise you for life.”

Jake looked between us before wrinkling his face up in disgust. “Thanks for the nightmare fuel. I’m off. I’m not interested in listening to her debauchery.”

My nostrils flared. “Debauchery? Why you little—”

Isa grabbed my arm and forced me to sit back down. “Your temper is out of control. It’s incredible you’re ever calm enough to engage in any debauchery at all.”

“I’ll give you debauchery, Isadora.”

“Please stop saying ‘debauchery,’” Shaun said. “It’s not the eighteen hundreds.”

“Has the meaning of the word changed since then?” Isa asked.

“No, but—”

“Oh, my God, be quiet.” I buried my face in my hands. “We’re just going around in circles with this conversation.”

Isa sniffed. “Every conversation we have goes in circles. It’s why we’ve never had a constructive one in twenty years.”

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