Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Not on my fucking watch.
Her little game ends now.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The incessant mashing of the doorbell wakes me up with a start—a cranky as fuck start. Growling, I hastily throw on some shorts and make my bed before storming to the front door. Why no one else in this damn house can be bothered to answer the door only adds to my irritation.
Aubrey’s probably still asleep, dreams of fucking my dad dancing through her pretty little head.
I twist the lock on the front door and fling it open, ready to lay into whatever door-to-door salesman thinks 7:00 a.m. house calls are acceptable. Instead, I find her.
Tasha Portman.
Neena’s best friend.
Like Neena, Tasha clings to her youth, paying out the nose for false lashes, hair extensions, and lip fillers. And, like Neena, Tasha easily turns the heads of every male with a working dick in a ten-mile radius. Though older, they’re still beautiful women, even I can admit that.
Problem with Tasha is she’s a nosy, meddling, catty witch.
“Mrs. Portman,” I deadpan. “So lovely to see you this morning.”
Her sharp green eyes narrow with suspicion, like she has the ability to peek inside my head, before she saunters into my house past me.
“Where’s Neena?” she demands.
Her heels clack along our floors as she sweeps her gaze over the space. Neena’s cold, impersonal decorating sense hasn’t been touched since the last time she hired an overpriced designer to redo parts of the house.
“She’s out,” I say, apathy dripping from my words. “I’ll tell her you stopped by.”
She whirls on her heels, pointing a long, manicured claw at me, baring her teeth. “Like the last ten times? I’m not an idiot, Spencer. Something’s happened to Neena. We never go this long without speaking.”
“Not sure why it’s my problem she’s avoiding you.” I shrug, shoving my hands into my shorts pockets. “You know how Neena gets. When she’s pissed about something, she throws a tantrum like a child.”
She sweeps her attention over to me again. “If she doesn’t turn up soon, I’ll know you two are hiding something.”
I bristle at her insinuation. “What would we have to hide?”
“Where you…” Her voice cracks and her overly plumped lip wobbles. “Where you buried the body.”
“You think we killed her?” A cruel laugh escapes me. “Someone’s been watching a little too much Lifetime, Tash. What’s wrong? Are Daddy Portman’s deep pockets no longer enough to satisfy you? Are you a bored housewife now? Need something to take your mind off things?”
She hisses, fury whipping out of her like a category 5 hurricane. “You’re such a child, Spencer. A bratty, taunting child. Where’s Hugo?”
If anyone needs to deal with Tasha, it’s me. Sure, Dad can soothe people better than I can, but he and Tasha have always disliked each other. His mere presence will send her into a screaming fit. I honestly don’t know how that eighty-year-old husband of hers puts up with her psycho ass.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I gesture toward the general direction of Park Mountain. “Out for a run just like every weekend morning.”
“I’ll wait,” she snips. “And if he can’t produce my best friend immediately, I’m going to call the police. Everyone in this damn town will know what you two have done.” She sneers at me, flashing her veneers that aren’t as sharp as her claws. “Your daddy’s campaign will go bye-bye.”
Anger bubbles up in my gut. I’m about to tell her to get the fuck out of our house when I sense another presence. I smell her before I see her—honeyed and sweet.
“Auntie Tasha?”
Tasha snaps out of her hateful pose to turn her attention to Aubrey. She lets out a gasp of shock before opening her arms. Aubrey runs over to her and they hug like long-lost family.
“She’s not your aunt,” I growl under my breath, irritated to now have them both teaming up against me.
“Are you okay?” Tasha asks, pulling back to inspect Aubrey. “I haven’t seen you in two years, hon. Are you here looking for your mother?”
The sympathetic expression Tasha has on her face has me cracking my neck in anticipation, readying myself for their tag-team onslaught.
“Looking?” Aubrey cocks her head to the side, confusion marring her pretty, still sleepy face. “What do you mean?”
Tasha studies her for a beat before glancing my way. Then, she turns her attention back to Aubrey. “It’s okay if you don’t feel safe talking right now. We can have brunch and—”
“She’s plenty safe here,” I spit out. “Much safer than with her daddy.”
Aubrey’s flinch is slight. I like knowing what I know about her and her father’s fight. Of course she doesn’t know I know the details and that makes it much more sweeter. Making her squirm will be fun.
“Mom’s just going through some stuff,” Aubrey says, her voice light despite the heavy lie on her tongue. “Not much for anyone’s company. Been spending a lot of time with her yoga instructor.”