Page 7 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
Mike smirks as he rotates my spiral cactus. “The third daughter. Loyal, obedient. You’re the family pet.” He sighs and pulls a frown. “Bit dull, but it fits.”
“You don’t know me!”
Mike laughs, a self-satisfied chuckle that grates against my ears and makes my skin prickle. “Oh, but I do.”
I’ve seen Mike only once before out of his Badpun cosplay, and the man I met was confident, yes, but also charming and charismatic. He was most definitely not an arrogant, rude jerkface. So why is Mike acting like an arrogant, rude jerkface now?
He brings a hand to the wall and leans against it, studying me.
I arch an eyebrow and definitely do not admire the veins that twist around the corded muscles of his forearms. I lift my chin and stare him down. “I’m no one’s pet.”
His teeth flash. “I stand corrected. You’re too sharp. Too…prickly.”
“Prickly? Where do you get off—”
“Everyone plays a part in a family. It’s hard when the good roles are already taken.” He touches the spines of a few of my books with a knuckle. “That makes youveryinteresting, Bea McKinney.” He glances at me and sucks his teeth. “If you’re not the pet human, I’d say”—his lips curl into a smile—“you’re the family cactus. Sharp. Pretty enough in your own pointy way. And completely stuck. Did you live with your parents all through law school?”
“Out!” I push him out of my room.
But Mike braces himself against the door, and I’ve felt enough of his lean muscle to know he’s not budging. “That night when I almost kissed you was about as much fun as you’ve had in…ever. Am I right?”
He brought it up—and in the hallway for any lactating mama to hear. The scoundrel. My cheeks flush hotter. “No. Not right. But it’s cute you think so.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“Someone has a very high opinion of himself. For the sake of your fragile little actor’s ego, I wish I could tell you that I can’t sleep at night for thoughts of what could have been, but I haven’t thought of you since… No, I’ve never thought of you.” Lies. I’ve cast him as the resident hot guy in every one of Tolstoy’s books.
“I bet when you close your eyes, you picture me.”
I laugh, but it comes out a snort. “Yeah, I imagine a life with an arrogant boor who lives out of his van and dresses up as a psycho clown.” Seriously, when did Mike turn into such a jerk? This is not the man I remember almost kissing on the pier.
He smirks. “This is your childhood bedroom?” He nods with his chin. “Do Mommy and Daddy make you waffles on Saturday morning?”
“No!” I makethemwaffles, and then we go golfing.
“At least with a van, you have a shot at independence. A chance to be more than a sad, prickly little—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—cactus.”
“Oh, hey guys!” Adam says, stepping out of the study. “I just got a text from Mom. They’re about to sing to the birthday boys.” Adam grabs Mike’s shoulder. “Glad you could make it, man.”
“Bea was just showing me around.”
“You mean showing you out?” I mutter.
But Adam doesn’t hear. “Did she show you her cactus collection? Crazy, right?”
Seriously? I could smack Adam on the back of the head.
“In a cool way!” Adam says before heading downstairs. “Come on. Cake and ice cream awaits.”
“You want me to carry you down the stairs?” Mike whispers. “Your shoes are ridiculous, and I wouldn’t want you breaking an ankle or any of your very sharp spines.”
“You asking to get pricked?”
“Maybe. Why? Do I need Mommy and Daddy’s permission first?”
