Page 97 of Torrid Passion
“She is! She is! She is!” the redhead shouts.
“Bliss and I—”
“Holy shit, you bagged Miss America?” Keller asks, interrupting Loki.
I feel this hard stab at my heart.
“Keller, language!” Mom reprimands. “You’re surrounded by impressionable teenagers. Please be careful.”
The girls giggle.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to the young ladies,” Mom scolds.
The twinkle in my brother’s eyes lets me know he has something up his sleeves.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” he tells the girls before facing Loki. “I mean, Jiminy Cricket, you’re accompanying Miss America to this lovely shindig? Well done, lad,” he mocks.
Mom rolls her eyes.
“It’s for—”
“Oh, my God! They were the hottest couple ever—I mean of all time—on the red carpet!” the brunette in the yellow dress says.
“Smoking hot with a capital H!” the redhead offers. “Right, girls?”
“Yes!” the other girls agree.
Loki’s gaze slides to mine.
I shoot him daggers.
He responds with a cocked eyebrow.
I narrow my eyes into a sliver of determination. I want to make damn sure he knows I mean business.
An intense glare shines bright in his hazel brown eyes.
Reproach?
Whatever, buddy. Clearly, you’ve moved on to another pair of legs.
My insides curl into a frozen ball.
I don’t even know why I feel hurt.
Fuck this.
I have no interest in sticking around to witness Miss America hanging from Loki’s arm as the teenage girls lose it again.
I’m out of here.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say. “I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room.”
“Kyla—”
“It was nice seeing you again Loki,” I cut him off before rushing away.
