Page 19 of The Mistakes I've Made
“That’s not the point, Leilani—Miss Hart, I mean. You see—”
She pressed, “Who owns The Cozy Hotel, Taylor?”
Hearing her say my name nearly made me stumble. It was like hearing it for the first time.
“We’re just asking for input.”
“Who owns—”
“You do, okay? Are you happy?” I blurted out, my chest heaving with anger.
It was then that I realized how close we’d gotten in our heated exchange. Our bodies were nearly touching as our eyes locked together, but before I could do anything about it, she pulled back, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Yes, quite happy actually. Now, I expect any actual town concerns will be voiced through the proper channels, yes? Or is this how Ocracoke conducts business? Shall I plan on more disappointing dinner dates with you?”
I felt a growl rumble deep inside inside my chest.
Damn, she’d gotten me good.
“Oh, don’t worry; I don’t make the same mistake twice. You won’t be seeing me again.”
“I guess that’s good for me then.”
I stalked toward the door. “You have no idea.”
I heard feminine laughter follow me as I left.
Great comeback, douche bag.
Just great.
At least I had one thing going for me. There had been no one from town to witness my epic fail with Leilani, which meant there was no one to spread the gossip.
Thank God for small miracles.
Or so I thought.
I woke up to the sound of my front door being slammed shut.
“Wake up, asshat! We’ve got to talk!”
“Shit,” I moaned.
Hearing the angry shouts of my big brother in the wee hours of the morning was never a good thing.
Throwing on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old T-shirt from high school, I made my way down the steep stairs toward the tiny kitchen of my one-bedroom bungalow to find Dean helping himself to my fridge.
“Don’t you have food in your own house?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But you make a damn good omelet, and we have some words to exchange. So, get to cooking. That is, if you think I’m worthy of breakfast.” He waggled his eyebrow as he handed over a carton of eggs.
“Now, who’s being an asshat?” I muttered, taking the eggs and getting to work.
“It is kind of frustrating that you have a fast and firm rule against breakfast with female companions, yet you are a wizard in the kitchen.”
I shrugged. “I learned a lot from Mom when I didn’t go away to college.”
“You took that manning-up thing pretty damn seriously.”
