Page 47 of Curvy Love

The front door opens before I’m even all the way out of my car, but it’s not Paisley there to greet me. Instead, it’s her sister, at least I’m assuming that’s who it is.

She stands on the porch, arms crossed over her chest as she watches me come up the walkway.

“How is she?” I ask.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” she says.

“Fuck. Just tell me.”

“The good news is, she’s stopped crying. The bad news is she’s entered into the rage portion of her sadness.”

My brows raise. “Should I be worried for her safety?”

“No, you should be worried for yours.” She moves past the front door and settles in one of the worn white rocking chairs sitting on the porch. “I’ll be out here if y’all need anything.”

I nod.

“Oh, and Ezra, if you hurt her more, we have another sister and together we’ll make you sorry.”

I’m amused at her weak threat, but I don’t dare smile. I love that Paisley’s sisters are protective of her.

“I don’t want to hurt her. I only want to love her.”

She gives me the evil eye for a moment longer, then nods.

And I turn the knob and go inside.

I don’t see her anywhere in the living room, but I hear her voice coming from the hallway to my right so I follow. I find her in what I’m assuming is her bedroom and she’s in a full-on rant. It only takes her a moment before she sees me. Her eyes narrow and she points a finger at me.

“You!”

“Me?” I step further into her bedroom and close the door behind me.

“I don’t even want to talk to you.”

“Good. You can just listen.”

Her mouth opens and she stares at me in outrage. “How dare you?”

I can’t help the smile that twitches at my lips. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

“No, I am not. I am fierce.”

“Would you sit please? Just listen to me for ten minutes and if you’re still angry you can kick me in the shins.”

Her glare doesn’t even flinch. But she sits on the edge of her bed. “Seven minutes.”

“Fair enough. So I’m assuming you’re angry because you saw the message on my phone this morning.”

Her arms cross over her chest and she smirks at me. Then it’s like her wall breaks and tears fill her eyes. “You knew how I felt about that and earning things on my own.”

I sit in front of her and grab her hands. “I absolutely know that about you. I’m the very same. I’d be furious if someone orchestrated something like that for me.”

“Exactly. So why did you do it?”

I swipe at the tears on her cheeks and then cradle her face. “I didn’t do it. After that first day you and I had the conversation about the grant, I handed the entire project over to my development team. They’re the ones who reviewed the projects and made all the decisions. I played no part in it. In fact, I don’t even know what your project is.”

She searched my face. “It’s an errand app, kinda like the food delivery ones, but it’s specifically for assisted living and retirement communities. Often those people only need one or two items from the pharmacy or the grocery store. The other apps aren’t cost effective for that kind of thing. This gives the entire facility access so they can pay a group delivery fee.”

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