Page 8 of Casita Casanova
“Months.”
“The fuck I am. No way am I staying in California for that long.”
Beth’s lips flatten into a hard line.
“Beth.”
She shakes her head.
Six fucking months?This is insane. I can’t leave the firm for six months. “We’ll leave that one open for discussion.”
The look in her terrifying eyes tells me we won’t be discussing shit. “I have an appointment.” Beth glances at her watch, then back at me. “Oh, and Ridge?”
“Yeah?”What now?
“Put some clothes on when I call you. That’s as close as I ever want to come toalmostseeing your penis.”
She ends the call and I look down, smiling at Thor. She should be so lucky, buddy.
And, hey, it’s not my fault she calls me so damn early on a Saturday. I sleep naked; what does she expect from me? A goddamn three-piece?
Chapter Three
Maryn
It’s Saturday afternoon and the sun shines brightly through the opened top half of the faded teal Dutch front door. The beach house is full of boxes, everything I’m taking from my old life to my new. Ari is out front grabbing more boxes and I’m busy in the living room, while Danielle works away in the bedroom.
I’m exhausted. Physically, mentally… emotionally.
But with each box unpacked, we move closer to the finish line, and my unease is beginning to morph into anticipation.
Subtle anticipation, but anticipation nonetheless.
The next chapter of my life is beginning, and I’m terrified, but there’s a hint of excitement trying to bubble up through the fear. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of… something.
A precipice.
All I have to do is jump, and there’s a thrill in that knowledge.
Danielle exits the bedroom and begins breaking down an empty moving box, then places it on top of a stack of other flattened boxes. She places her hands on her hips and turns in a slow circle, nodding as she faces me. “Margaritas.”
I tilt my head. “Are you making a statement?”
“Yes. We need margaritas.”
Laughing, I motion toward the boxes lined up in the beach house’s small kitchen. “Good luck finding the blender.”
Danielle huffs her frustration.
We’ve been unloading boxes off the moving truck all afternoon, and our little trio is getting a bit tired of the moving process. I’ve broken two nails, and Arabella ripped her favorite jeans. Which, by the way, were already ripped, but now they have a tear thatdoesn’t lookprofessionally destroyed, so it’s a big freaking deal.
Danielle sighs, then tugs her auburn hair out of the ponytail holder and massages her scalp. After a moment, she disappears into the kitchen, a woman on a mission. “There are certain things that warrant extra information, Maryn Rose,” she calls. “Like the box with the necessities in it should say something like,kitchen necessities.” She opens and closes a couple empty cabinets, then adds, “Or, I don’t know,coffee maker and margarita maker.”
“There’s a box in the bedroom that saysB.O.B., does that count?”
Danielle pops her head out of the kitchen and flashes me a grin. “Good girl. Next time, label the kitchen appliances, too, okay?”
“Next time, I’m paying someone to do all of this for me.”
