Page 78 of Lead Me Knot

“Sorry you’re not feeling well.”

I roll my eyes, and snap, “I bet.”

“What?”

I don’t bother repeating myself. I need to figure out my next step. Trapped in the Hamptons at his boss’s house isn’t ideal, but neither is paying for a car to take me back to the city.Five hours . . .that would be a month’s worth of rent. I sigh, realizing I’m going to be stuck, so I need to make a plan to get through the weekend. Anger is going to be my best ally.

Meetinghis boss and his wife wasn’t as painful as I expected, and they were over the moon to find out we got married. With those formalities out of the way, we settle in upstairs in one of the eight bedrooms they chose for us.

It’s beautiful in buttery yellow and white with pale blue accents. More formal than I’m used to. This would get so dirty back home after a long day out on those dusty roads and ranches.

I finish touching up my makeup and brushing my hair in the bathroom, which I locked him out of so I could be alone. I manage to zip up the white dress I chose for the party to go along with the Fourth of July theme, and because when I saw it yesterday as a wedding option, I knew it was better suited for today. And since he was paying . . . I just wish I had known about this bet then. I would have kept everything.

When I come out, he’s lying on the bed fully dressed and waiting. He catcalls me. “Turn for me.” Funny how I found that so charming yesterday, and today, it makes me want to light a fire to burn the place down.

“We should go.” I pull the door open and start down the hall.

His heavy footsteps echo behind me. “Hey, Shortcake?”

I keep walking, reaching the top of the staircase. As soon as I take hold of the railing, I’m stopped by his stupid giant wall of a body standing in my way. I shift to the right, but he shifts with me. I go left, and he’s still there blocking me. “What’s going on? Why are you mad?”

“Oh god,” I say, throwing my arm up. “Where do I start?”

“The beginning is good.”

I wonder if he means the beginning, when two grown-ass men made a bet for him to sleep with me? I’ll assume he thinks he’s slyer than that. “Ha! I bet.” I attempt to maneuver around him, but I know it’s wasted energy, and I’m not willing to risk my life in these heels to outrun him. “Can you move, please?”

He tries to take hold of myhand, but I tuck it into the pocket of the dress. That was one of the features that sold me on it. It’s coming in handy. “You’re not talking to me?”

“Not if I can help it.”

His eyes harden. He grabs the railing and stands taller. “What the fuck is going on, Lauralee?”

We’re at an impasse. I’m in no mood to talk to him at all about anything, and that’s all he wants to do. I exhale, my shoulders falling from the mental exhaustion. “Can we just go to the party? Please.”

Our eyes stay fixed as seconds pass, but then he steps to the side and out of my way. “So much for the happy newlyweds.”

“You don’t have to worry, Baylor,” I say, taking the steps slowly so I don’t trip down the spiral. “I’ll play my part as I promised. You’ll be heralded as the family man they’re looking to promote and then we can go our separate ways. The bank can send the paperwork to you.” Yeah, I’m not letting him off the hook.

Stopping at the marble-tiled floor of the foyer, as Mrs. Goodman called it because she’s rich and fancy like that, he waits for me. He holds his elbow out for me when I reach the bottom step. I debate if I need to take it or if I want to walk beside him instead. I take hold with my hand and lift my chin, ready to make our entrance.

I feelbad for being so bored.

Sure, everyone is nice enough and all the ladies have been fawning all over me as a newlywed, more than happy to impart advice, and coo over my rings. But I never want to hear another thing regarding fashion in Capri. Who cares?

They do.Apparently, a lot. No matter the season, they have the perfect outfits ready to go. “Do you get to Europe much, Lauralee?” Mrs. Goodman asks as she sips her watermelon spritzer. I’ve already downed three. They’re light on the alcohol, so I asked for a double last round to get me through the rest of this event.

“I’ve never been.” The audible gasps startle me. With all the ladies staring, I don’t know where to go with this, so I lie to spare myself the humiliation, “In fall.”

The four women take a collective sigh of relief. One even had her hand over her heart in concern. She lowers it, so I think I’m in the clear. Mrs. Goodman rubs my wrist. “You should see Paris in the fall. It’s stunning.”

“I’ll have to make it a point to visit during the season.”

I keep eyeing Baylor, the anger I felt earlier subsiding with the passing hours. Should I have said something and given him a chance to explain? Am I the bad guy for being hurt in the first place? No. But my pain has morphed into disappointment in myself for falling for a playboy. Of course he’d treat dating like a sport. It’s what Baylor Greene has always done. So the bet shouldn’t come as a surprise. He’s doing what he does best—winning. Whether it be on the football field or in the bedroom, he’s been spoiled with choice. That’s not something I want to be a part of. Anymore.

Spotting the buffet, I say, “If you’ll excuse me,” and slip away from the group. I should have done that an hour ago. I get a plate and walk the length of the table, adding everything from a slider to potato salad, a scoop of mac and cheese, and a cookie because I need to eat my feels.

I take my plate and head to the edge of the lawn that leads to a beach and the ocean. I’ve never seen a house this big, and the lawn with the pool, the guesthouse, and landscaping are something Ialways imagined celebrities having.

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