Chapter 8
Throw a curveball – when your temporary houseguest surprises you in such a way you nearly lose your mind
Rowan
I put the finishing touches on the breakfast tray before carrying it toward my bedroom where Ashlyn is currently sleeping off her hangover. I’m surprised I managed to get her home without her falling out of the golf cart last night. She swayed and sang the theme song to Gilligan’s Island the entire drive while I clung to her shirt in a desperate attempt to keep her butt planted in her seat. It worked. Barely. But it worked.
I toe the bedroom door open with my foot to discover the room’s empty. The covers on the bed are ruffled from where Ash slept, but there’s no sign of the woman herself. She must be in the bathroom. I set the tray on the bedside table before going in search of my errant guest. I stride toward the bathroom but halt when I hear voices coming from my walk-in closet.
“Ricardo, we can’t. I’m to be married in the morning.” Ash moans and my cock twitches while anger simultaneously blasts through my body. Who the hell is Ricardo?
“Oh god, but I want to. I really, really want to.” Another moan has me seeing red. I march toward the door but pause with my hand on the handle when another voice speaks.
“My darling, we can. No one has to know.”
“But won’t he…” She gasps. “Please, do that again. Don’t make me beg.”
“What, my love? This?”
“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” Those words spoken in her deep, raspy voice has all the blood in my body rushing toward my groin.
“My darling, I wouldn’t dare.” The heat in my veins turns to ice at the man’s response.
What the hell? Does she have a man in my closet with her? She brought a man to my house. To my bedroom. To my closet. I’m going to kill him.
I wrench the door open and stomp into the room. I freeze at the vision in front of me. Ash is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, with her foot propped up on a pillow. She’s wearing headphones and speaking into a microphone. I scan the area, but she’s definitely alone.
What’s going on here? Is she having phone sex? Is she some sort of online call girl? There’s one way to find out.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell.
Ash startles and her computer slides from her lap onto the floor. She peers up at me with wide eyes. When she realizes who I am, her eyes narrow and she glares at me.
“What the hell, Rowan? Now, I’m going to have to record the entire session again.” She groans and rubs her temples.
“Session? What are you talking about?”
“I’m narrating an audiobook. What did you think I was doing?”
I shrug.
“Crap on a cracker! You thought I was in here having phone sex?” she shrieks.
It sounds really bad when she says it. “No?”
“No?” She snorts. “What else could it be? You think I’m some kind of online prostitute?”
I whistle and glance away.
“You think I’m a prostitute?” she screams and tries to stand. I hurry to help her, but she shoves me away. “I don’t need help from someone who thinks I’m a prostitute.”
“I don’t think you’re a prostitute,” I manage to say between grit teeth as I watch her struggle to stand. I reach out to help her again, but she bats my hands away.
“I saw your face. On a side note, never play poker with the old guard. Your poker face is non-existent. They’d steal your money and laugh all the way to the bank.”
“Give me a break. I was shocked, okay? I came in here to treat you to breakfast in bed for your birthday and I hear sex sounds and a male voice coming from my closet. I’m allowed to be a bit confused.”
She freezes. “Did you say breakfast in bed?”