Page 66 of Bedding Rose
When Quique says, “My mom.” though, I’m thrown for a loop, because I definitely did not think that self-involved woman had a clue about her daughter’s life. Maybe I’ve been wrong about her. Did she notice the sparks at her fundraiser?
“She hates you, you know, so enjoy that complication.” Quique raises his beer as if to toast me before taking a long pull.
I give a shrug that somehow makes my jaw twinge even more. “Is it even a real relationship if your in-laws like you?”
He snorts before what I said really sinks in. “It’s that serious?”
I start to nod, but given the fact that my face is currently swelling to twice its normal size and my neck aches, I go with a simple, “Yes.”As long as your sister can accept a side of me that even you don’t know about.
That thought makes my heart sink a little because last night, Dad asked me again where Rose and I stood on that front. I’d told him I was working on it, but I haven’t been. In fact, I’ve been putting it off, trying not to ponder what I’m going to do to convince my sweet, innocent Rose that someone as ruthless and corrupt as me deserves her. Because I don’t and I know it. But I’m smart enough to know when I’ve caught hold of a handful of happiness and selfish enough to keep it. Someone’s going to have to pry her out of my cold, dead fingers because that’s the only way I’m letting go.
A second later, my phone vibrates and I pick it up. ‘Lil Reina’ flashes across the screen. I swipe to answer, sliding my frozen bag of carrots to the other side of my jaw, giving it some attention as I realize that Rosie might not be able to ride my face for a day or two. That knowledge is worse than the pain, because then I won’t get to hear her wild moans. “Hey.”
I move out of the kitchen and into the living room, to give myself and my girl a little privacy, because I’m going to have to break the news to her that one of her friends must have spilled the details about us.
She doesn’t give me a chance, though. As soon as I’ve greeted her, words spill through the phone speaker. “Ohmygod. I think I might have just gotten myself kicked out of my mom’s house. And cut out of her will. And I can’tbelieveIdidthis but I gave her the flash drive!Theflash drive!” Her speech is so frantic and fast that it takes me a few seconds to string her words together into something that makes sense.
“Wait …”
“I told her about my major. And needless to say, it didn’t go well. Everything kind of just—exploded. So … I’m kind of going to be couch surfing at Lily’s for a bit—”
“No, you’re not.” Possessive heat comes over me at the fact Rose is even considering going to someone else. She’s mine. If she has an issue, she comes to me. I try to keep the blistering fury out of my tone but my words scrape roughly against my vocal cords as I growl, “You’re coming here.”
“But—”
“There is no but. You’re coming here. You’re staying with me.” I almost say home, but I can’t call this shithole that word. It’s nothing more than a place to sleep and shower. “I’ll send you the address.” I belatedly realize I haven’t had her here yet. Probably because I semi-hate this cardboard box and the neighbor next door who yells at the news programs twenty-four-seven.
But after I hang up and text her, I glance around and see the space with new eyes—not just dislike but disgust. I have a decent leather couch and TV and my bed’s fine, but the rest of this place looks like it was scraped up off the bottom of someone’s shoe. It’s definitely not good enough for my Rose.
“What’s that face?” Quique asks and I realize I’ve pursed my lips even though it makes my face ache.
“Your mom just kicked Rose out,” I reply.
He lets out a wolf-whistle and shakes his head. “About damn time.”
I glare in his direction.
“Rose has needed to find her backbone for a long time coming, man. So, if that has anything to do with you, I’m all for it.” He holds up his phone and waggles it back and forth. “I’m guessing it does since Mom was the one who texted me about the two of you.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Well, shit. If Rose told Ms. Dalton during their argument, then my sweet girl might really have stood up for herself. I have to swallow a lump of pride that gets lodged in my throat at that prospect.
“She’s on the way.”“Good. I’ll get to punch her too,” Quique smirks.
“The fuck you will.” Immediately, my hackles rise—instinctively—even though I know that Quique would never in his life hit a girl. Rationality fades in light of my protective instincts and I take a step toward him.
“Joking. Joking.” He holds up his hands to pacify me, though it takes a full minute of deep breathing before I can slow my racing heart and calm the hell down. “Geez, you’ve got it bad.”
“You have no idea.”
“I want to haveno idea. There is no way I want to think about Rose getting romantic—ever. I still remember the days when she picked her boogers and ate them!” he shudders.
I cock a brow at him and grimace at the resulting loop of pain that tightens over my cheek. Discomfort doesn’t hinder my sarcasm, however. “You still do that.”
“Well, they’re salty and delicious, and when there’s no tortilla chips around …” He gives a casual shrug and a lopsided grin before finishing his beer. “I’m going to head out. It seems like you and Rose have a lot to talk about.” He shakes his head slowly as if he does not envy me. But then he adds, “Including how you’re going to make it up to me. I prefer gift cards, but I’ll also accept apology balloon arrangements so long as they are giant arches that are so obnoxiously colored that they draw the attention of the neighbors.”
“Get out of here.”
He gives me a nod as he digs out his keys. “Tell her I said I’m glad I’m not the only disappointment to Mom anymore.”
