Page 7 of Sharing Shane

“You have to let me explain,” he insisted. “You owe me that much.”

“Oh, shit, he did not just say that,” Delia muttered in her ear.

“Owe you?” Veronica sucked in a breath. Don’t kill him, you can’t kill him. “Owe you?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cami start to slink out of the room, her shirt clutched to her chest. Deciding to keep her focus on the person who deserved her wrath, she ignored her neighbor.

“If you don’t leave now,” she told Derek, her voice utterly calm, “I will break your nose, stomp your knee, and twist your penis off and feed it to you.”

“Nice one,” Delia said approvingly as Derek’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“And since you’ve conveniently left it out for me,” Veronica went on with a pointed glance at the penis in question, which didn’t look nearly as happy as it had a few moments ago, “I can start there.

“Although if you’re still here, Cami,” she called out, raising her voice slightly, “I’ll feed it to you instead.”

A high-pitched squeak sounded in the hallway, followed by running footsteps and the slamming of her front door. Veronica quirked a brow at Derek. “Looks like that snack is all yours, pal.”

That got him moving. He hastily tucked his pride and joy away—still wet, ew—and zipped his fly. He’d recovered somewhat, and his face was now twisted into what she’d always privately thought of as his I’m-very-disappointed face. “Clearly, you’re not ready to be reasonable.”

“Clearly,” she replied drily as Delia snorted in her ear.

He shrugged into his suit jacket and gathered his briefcase. “I’ll call you tonight, after you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

She started to tell him she wouldn’t answer, then shrugged. He’d find out soon enough.

Taking her shrug for assent, he smiled. “We’ll get past this. You’ll see.”

“This motherfucker is delusional,” Delia muttered, and Veronica said nothing. She watched him straighten his tie and started for the door, briefcase in hand. He slowed as he drew near her, raising his hand as though he wanted to touch her, then thought better of it. He gave her one last smile—a combination of compassion, reassurance, and confidence that made her blood boil all over again—and slipped out the door.

Veronica waited until she heard the front door click shut behind him, then let out the breath that she’d been holding in a string of curses.

“And then some,” Delia agreed when she’d wound down. “Was he really standing there with his dick out?”

“His bare dick,” Veronica confirmed, disgust coloring her voice. “No condom.”

“Dumbass,” was Delia’s succinct opinion. “What are you going to do?”

“Get an STI test.” Veronica concentrated on breathing, willing the haze of rage away. “Then I’m having the quilt dry-cleaned.”

“Oh, your grandmother’s quilt?” Delia asked in dismay.

“Yeah.” Veronica frowned at it. It was probably mostly protected by her pile of discarded clothes, which she was also going to have to have cleaned. Shit. “I’ll have to do that later. And I need to call a locksmith, too. I got Derek’s key back, but…”

“Better safe than sorry," Delia agreed. "Won’t your building take care of that?”

“It’ll take them too long. I want it done now.”

“Want me to call my guy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Veronica blew out a breath. “Shit, I’m pissed.”

“No kidding.”

“No, I mean pissed. I have to calm down before my meeting.”

“I’d offer to get you high, but I’m out of edibles and you probably don’t want to do that before work, anyway.”

“I really don’t.”

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