Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Try hard to make that your bestest best,” I warned.
He stepped back and offered me his arm. “You have my solemn vow.”
I stared at him.
Then I took his arm.
(Again, seriously…what would you do?)
He escorted me back and deposited me in my chair.
He returned to Chastity at the mantle while everyone pretended to avoid watching us even as they totally watched us.
Except Chelsea, who was glowering openly at me.
Fabulous.
In the crosshairs of a scheming woman who was wearing a sexier sweater than me.
My drink was sitting on the table in front of me.
I grabbed it and sucked half of it back.
“So, we decided while you two had your little chat, it’s gowns tonight,” Temperance drawled.
Fuck.
My other two gowns were also sexy.
Shit.
I glared at Battle.
He smirked at me.
Snowball jumped from Prue’s lap to mine.
Thank God.
Moral support.
I’d take it.
And with no other avenue open to me, I did.
CHAPTER 9
THE CHAT
I sat at my vanity, all ready to head down to drinks, but even so, my mind was casting about for any viable excuse I could give for chickening out of drinks and dinner.
And it had to be an excuse they’d buy that wouldn’t scream I was chicken.
Sadly, I was not coming up with any ideas that would convince anyone I wasn’t a coward.
In the midst of me doing this, or more to the point, failing at it, I heard a knock on the bedroom door.
This was probably Prue, come to ask what was going on with me and her brother. Though, my thoughts, she should ask him.
I didn’t have a brother.
However, I understood her play because, even if I did, I’d probably talk to my friend about my brother announcing to the room he wanted to sleep with her and not confront my brother about it.
Especially if he could be scary, like Battle.
Because…yeah.
Talking to your brother about his sex life, I could see, was a serious no-go.
Doing that semi-adjacently?
Not great, but better.
I didn’t want to do this, and I blamed Battle for putting me in this position too.
But I had to do it, however, I had no idea how I’d manage it.
Alas, the time was upon me.
“In here!” I shouted to be heard through the dressing room, bathroom and bedroom.
I heard the door open while I swiped on one more coat of my ruby-red lipstick and tried to devise a plan.
But I saw in the mirror, when she arrived, it was not the she I expected her to be.
It was Temperance.
Temperance in a stunning red sheath gown, straight line across her neck, sleeveless, a pair of beautiful gold evening sandals with a huge flower on the toe adorning her slender feet.
She was carrying a sleek black cat with yellow eyes in her arms. A cat, unlike any other cat I’d ever seen, who looked content to be held there for the rest of its life.
“Oh yes,” she drawled, her cool gray eyes roaming over me. “Battie is definitely going to like your dress.”
Argh.
I had no choice. It was either sexy or sexy.
I picked sexy.
A black gown made of chiffon, the sheer top pleated at a slant across my midriff and chest, making a one-shouldered bodice that hinted at nude underneath. The black skirt had a chiffon overlay with subtly scalloped sides that fluttered when I moved and added to the overt sexuality of the dress, giving it an ultra-feminine feel.
My hair was pulled softly back from a side part to another fluffy chignon at my nape that took forever to pull off.
My diamond studs and champagne sandals completed the ensemble.
The whole getup was another reason why it was regrettable I didn’t come up with a believable excuse to skip dinner.
Even I had to admit I looked hot.
“I went down to ask Patsy for a trash bag I could wear, but she just laughed at me,” I joked.
Temperance smiled her Cheshire cat smile.
I turned on my vanity stool to address her not in the mirror.
“Who’s that?” I tipped my head to the cat.
“Soot,” she answered, gliding gracefully down to sit on the round bench and letting Soot go.
The sleek cat, moving as slinky and gracefully as Temperance did, hopped off the bench and started to explore.
“Prue is rubbish at naming the animals,” she decreed. “There’s Baby Blue, Battie’s ragdoll. Floofy, Chassie’s white tiger. And Greystoke, Prue’s gray. You know Snowball and Gingerface.”
“Wait.” I was confused. “I thought they were all Prue’s cats.”
“They are, in a manner. She rescues them and adopts them. But animals have their own way of doing things. They lay their own claims. So Soot sleeps with me. Baby Blue with Battie. Floofy with Chassie. Greystoke with Prue. And, as we were all claimed, Snowball and Gingerface, the newest additions, hadn’t yet found their person.”
She finished that gazing at me meaningfully.
And I had a feeling I understood her meaning, my heart beating hard with it, I just didn’t know what to do with it.