Page 372 of Love Bites

Through the peephole, I watched Naya impatiently pacing in circles with her arms folded.

I opened the door.

“This is the last straw. I called the police this time,” she announced, rushing past me and going straight for the can of Spanish peanuts in the kitchen.

“The party girl called the cops?” I smirked.

Naya strutted into the living room and plopped down on the floor, leaning against one of my chairs with her long legs crossed.

“Lexi, on more than one occasion I’ve invited them to my parties, but they’ve neveroncereturned the courtesy.”

I flopped onto the couch and grabbed a magazine from the coffee table. “Do you really want to party with a bunch of college kids?” My gaze flicked up. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

She popped a peanut into her mouth and brushed the salt from her fingers onto her tight shorts.

“Crash it,” I suggested.

Naya rolled her eyes. The root of her irritation wasn’t the noise but that she wasn’t a part of it. Naya hated exclusion. “I have more class than that, chickypoo. So are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

I slowly turned the page, glancing at an article about the top twenty ways to turn on your man. “Nope.”

She set the peanuts down and hopped on the sofa beside me, lifting my legs onto her lap. “Ooo, it’s a man, isn’t it?”

“Naya, it’s—”

“Aman.”

I snorted. “Drop it.”

“Dish, Lexi. I can tell it’s not about Beckett because you have a totally different look on your face when you’re stewing over him. So who has your feathers all ruffled up?”

I hurled the fashion magazine to the floor. “A ghost from my past. Just someone who took off years ago and never once contacted me.” Now I was irritated all over again and sat up with my knees against my chest. “He just showed up out of the blue and now he wants to talk.”

“Someone you dated?”

“No. Just an old family friend.”

“Hmm,” she pondered, setting her feet on the coffee table. A silver anklet slithered down to her foot and a tiny heart dangled from her toe ring. “Maybe he was in trouble.”

Something I’d considered. “Maybe he was in prison.”

“That’s kind of sexy.”

“That’s kind of not,” I said. “I have no desire to graduate from a cheating bastard to an ex-convict.”

“So talk to him. Either that or sit here night after night, wondering what happened while wearing your bitchy face.”

“I don’t have a bitchy face,” I argued, trying to conceal my smile.

An unexpected knock at the door startled the both of us. I glanced around but forgot where I’d set down the fireplace poker.

“Shhh.” Naya tiptoed over to the door and peered through the peephole with her index finger pointing up.

“Who is it?” I whispered over her shoulder.

“I can’t tell. Oh, shit.”

“What?”

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