“No,” I say, shrugging as I hand him the money.
My grin only grows as I pick up my phone. Now I have her number.
“Hello?” she answers, probably confused by the number she doesn’t know.
“It’s me. What are you doing tonight?”
She pauses for a minute, and my smile becomes painful. She’s right to be paranoid.
“I have to run some errands, but I should be back within an hour or two. I’m on my way out right now.”
“Good. I’ll see you then,” I say while hanging up.
Maggie—the good woman that she is—gave me a key to their house and the code to the alarm system. So from now on, I have full access to torture the hell out of Brin.
My phone buzzes, and I grimace, worrying that it’s going to be my dad again. It’s not him, but it’s almost as bad. I groan when I see Ash’s name on the screen.
“Yeah,” I mumble, knowing damn well what she’s about to do. She only calls when she wants to set me up.
“Please tell me you have nothing going on tonight.”
Shit. Here she goes.
“I have plans.”
“Look, I’m sort of having a major problem, and I was supposed to go out with Hillary Barns tonight for drinks. But I can’t see her. I don’t even really like her, and if she sees me in this shape, she’ll gloat and claim some sort of victory from all of this. You know she has a huge thing for Tag. I realize most women do, but she’s so fucking blatant about it.”
Is she... crying? Did she just say fucking?
“Ash, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I will be fine. I just... can you please go meet her in my place? She just wants to set up the pool party for Tag, and I really can’t deal with her. I’ve hated her since he hired her, and I refuse to see her. You know everything there is to know about the party. Wren is MIA, so it has to be you. Please. I’m begging you.”
Considering she sounds like she’s close to falling apart, I sigh and agree. At least it’s not a matchmaking scheme.
“I’ll have to reschedule it. I have plans, but I’ll tell her I’m taking over the party planning so you don’t have to deal with her anymore.”
“That’ll work,” she says, a sniffle following.
“You sound rough. Can I do something?”
“No,” she whimpers. “I’ll be fine.”
With that, she hangs up, and I frown. What just happened?
Instead of dwelling on it, I drive over to Brin’s house, happy when I see the Range Rover is gone. I really hope she doesn’t run over my newly-repaired Porsche with my Range Rover. That would suck.
Once I park—and leave her plenty of parking room—I jog up to her house. Maggie’s car is gone, too, so it’s just me and the snake in my hand.
That sounds a little dirty.
After unlocking the door, I head into the bedroom and grin as I pull open the cotton-filled panty drawer. But when I spot a few new pairs of satin thongs on top, I’m forced to swallow hard against the instant knot in my throat.
When did she get these?
The snake wiggling in the bag reminds me of the task at hand, and I remove my eyes from the scandalously distracting new underwear to focus on my main objective. I stick my hand in the bag, but I pull it back quickly, screeching like a kid when the damn thing latches on and bites the hell out of me.
“Fucking psycho!” I bark, dropping the bag.