The heavy coat and cap are so Keiko and Pike don’t recognize me and the bags under my eyes are courtesy of not getting an ounce of sleep as I shared a bed with my husband.
Is Pike an attractive man? Uh, yeah. Really freaking hot, but was he as repulsive as a rotten banana peel at the bottom of a trash can to me yesterday? Oh yes.
Yes, he was.
You can imagine how I wanted nothing to do with him last night. It’s why I didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night. Why I got ready to go to sleep without a word, brushed my teeth with a scowl, and then hunkered down in my bed, up against the wall, curled up turned away so I didn’t have to look at him.
I’ve never been more horrified to share a bed with an attractive man.
I’ll give it to him for being respectful of my sleeping space, though. You always hear about people platonically sharing a bed only to end up with a boob in the hand by morning. Not us. Both stiff as boards—not his penis—never leaving our designated zones.
This morning when I was getting ready, I felt like an old-world peasant woman in an arranged marriage, skulking around the residence and wanting nothing to do with her husband. Except, I’m not an old-world peasant woman, I’m a modern-day lady who’s still captured in her own living space.
And could I possibly tell Arlo to have him help me get out of this? Probably, but the last thing I need is for him to get involved. He’s already too protective and always harping on me about making the right decisions for my life. I don’t need him involved in this.
Nope. I can handle it. I have a plan.
I just need the meat of the plan to unfold, and that’s why I called together the Ladies in Heat Book Club—minus Keiko, but that’s because she won’t get it and she’s far too temperamental right now to keep in check.
Passing the math wing, I head up the stairs toward the English department, taking the stairs two at a time. I usually meet the girls once a week for lunch, because I work from home and enjoy some company every once in a while. I bring my own lunch, they bring theirs, and we chat and gab about nothing and everything.
Today, I don’t have a lunch.
I have a can of whipped cream.
A notebook.
A pen.
And a menacing grimace that means business.
Turning the corner, I head down the English department wing and straight to Greer’s door. I don’t bother knocking, instead, I bust through the door. I find Greer up against her whiteboard, Arlo holding her in place.
“Jesus Christ.” I shield my eyes from the compromising position. “Please tell me appendages are all in their proper confines.”
Arlo growls—such an idiot—and asks, “What are you doing here, Coraline?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a lunch date.” I peek through my fingers and thankfully see that everyone is properly clothed, so I drop my hand. Looking at Greer, I say, “I thought we had a date.”
“Yes, I was just telling Arlo that.” She adjusts her shirt. “He was having a hard time listening.”
“It’s because men tend to think and listen with their dicks, but are quite unaware that dicks don’t have ears.”
“Cute,” Arlo says before placing a soft kiss on Greer’s lips. “Tonight, we finish this.”
Ew.
Seriously!
Ew.
A sister should never be subjected to her brother being all alpha and demanding. Let me just go dry-heave in the trash can for a second.
Arlo walks toward me and pauses, taking my appearance in. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“It’s the new trend. Frump. God, get a clue Professor Stick Up My Ass.”
“I’m not a professor.”
“For the love of God, leave,” I say, losing my patience, which only causes him to stand firmly in place. I lift the can of whipped cream to my mouth and spray, filling my mouth to the brim.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I look away. Huge mistake.
“Coraline, do not lie to me.”
See, this is what I’m talking about. He reacts like this from just a ball cap and oversized coat—and whipped cream. How would he react if he knew I got wasted in Vegas and then married Pike, someone he apparently doesn’t get along with?
Spoiler alert—he’d raise hell!
“Arlo,” Greer says, stepping up to him and gently placing her hand on his arm. “Cora has some womanly things she wanted to talk to me and Stella about.”
His eyes flash to mine. “Are you pregnant?”