Page 193 of Positively Pricked
But what was I now?
I had no idea – well, other than some sort of mouth-breather, apparently.
I told the caller, "I'm not his anything. But if this is about the house, I have no idea what's going on. So if you have any concerns, you should probably talk to Zane."
"That prick?" She gave a bark of laughter. "You're kidding, right? Haveyouever tried reasoning with him?"
The question hit a little too close to home. "Maybe."
"Oh yeah? And how'dthatgo?"
Isodidn't want to say. In too many ways to count, Zane was the most unreasonable person I'd ever met. Unfortunately, he was also the most fascinating. And sexy. And yes, sometimes, so protective and generous that he took my breath away.
The caller said, "You don't have to answer. Iknowhow it went. Terrible, right?"
I bit my lip. "Maybe."
"You keep saying maybe, but I know what thatreallymeans. Youdoknow he only cares about himself, right?"
I shoved a hand through my hair. "Honestly, I'm just a former employee, so–"
"So, what'd he do? Fire you?"
I mumbled, "Maybe."
"I knew it! He does that all the time, you know." She made a scoffing sound. "I hope you got a good severance."
My gaze shifted toward the front of the house.Oh yeah. I got a car and triple a year's salary.Actually, it was pretty amazing, and yet, the whole arrangement still made me uncomfortable. After all, what exactly had I been paid for?
The caller gave a sudden gasp. "Oh, no. Ifyou'rethere, what happened to my stuff?"
"What stuff?" I asked.
"Well, the boxes for one thing."
"Nothing happened," I assured her. "They're still here, probably right where you left them."
She made a sound of derision. "And why should I believeyou? For all I know, you're using my stuff right now."
"Trust me, I'm not using your stuff."
"Oh sure..." Her tone grew sarcastic. "…says the person usingmyphone."
Oh, for God's sake."Well, I wouldn’t be using your phone if you hadn't called."
"Hah! You didn't know it was me. I could've been anyone."
"Maybe," I said through gritted teeth, "but you weren't."
"But I could've been."
We went back and forth a few more times, and I had to remind myself that her paranoia might be at least a little justified. After all, she'd been dealing with Zane for who-knows-how-long.
He was enough to make anyone crazy.
Finally I said, "Look, if you want the boxes, just come and get them." I hesitated. "I mean, of course, when Zane's around."
"Oh suuuuure," she said. "And put them where, exactly? It's not like I've got roomhere."
I didn't know where "here" was, but I saw what she meant. I tried to put myself in her shoes. How would I feel if some stranger was living in my house, using my things?
I'd hate it. And I might even hate the person who was living there.
In spite of my own troubles, my heart went out to her. "I'm really sorry. If there's anything I can do…"
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.
Because she pounced on my offer faster than I could say,"What the hell was I thinking?"
