Page 43 of Written with Regret (The Regret Duet 1)
Sexy and depressing.
Well…it was only depressing because I knew he probably wouldn’t give those to Hadley the Terrible very often.
And that sucked because I liked it a lot.
“Relax. You don’t have to pay for my shirt. It’s not a big deal.”
I shook my head, my wrists still held in his large hands. “That’s not going to wash out. It’s oil.”
“I can afford a new shirt. And just think: Next time I have to paint the house, I’m all set for a wardrobe.”
“You paint your own house?” I squeaked. Seriously. Because what the hell else would I say when I was already mortified?
I-M-B-E-C-I-L-E
“No. Never,” he replied with a smile so bright that I swear I could feel its warmth.
I liked that a lot too.
“Now. Maybe you should hit the sink before we talk.”
“Is it going to be a good chat?”
He shook his head and cut his gaze off to the side, tucking his lips like he really didn’t want to be smiling at all. “Just… Wash your hands.”
“Right. Okay.” I looked at his fingers still curled around my wrists. “You gonna let me go?”
His gaze came back to mine, the strangest shadow passing over his face. “Yeah. Sorry.”
But he didn’t release me. He stood there for a minute, his blue eyes roaming my face, that shadow darkening by the second.
“Caven,” I whispered.
“You look like her.”
I offered him a tight smile. “I know.”
“I mean, I knew you did, but I don’t think I realized how much until I saw you again.”
My stomach wrenched. “If you want the truth, she looks more like my mom than she does me.” No sooner than the final word cleared my lips did I wish I could take them back.
The shadow on his face transformed into a storm of guilt, and in the very next beat, he dropped my wrists. “We should talk.”
And just like that, the moment was gone.
His scowl returned, his body became hard, and angry Caven reappeared, leaving all the soft and gentle discarded on the floor with the rest of Jerry’s garbage.
“Come on in.”
He dipped his chin but only made it one step over the threshold before abruptly stopping.
Beth was coming at him full steam ahead.
And not my best friend Beth, trying to catch flies with her honey.
This was badass-lawyer Beth. Her shirt had been buttoned all the way up to her throat, her long, brown hair tied back in a bun. And I swear to God the woman was wearing a pair of glasses she had to have produced out of thin air.
“Mr. Hunt, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Beth Watts, Hadley’s attorney.”
Caven’s face got hard. “You two working on something I should know about?”
“No!” I exclaimed, rushing forward to stand between them. “Beth is actually my best friend, not just my attorney. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door, not giving the first damn if my paint-covered hands ruined her shirt. “She just stopped by to see if I wanted to go to brunch. Unfortunately, I’d already eaten. So…” I snatched the door open and shoved her out. “See you later, Beth.”
“Hadley,” she growled as I slammed the door in her face. She’d forgive me when I called her later to fill her in on all the details. Right after she scolded me—again—for talking to Caven without legal representation.
Whatever. It was a risk I was more than willing to take.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked on my way to the kitchen sink.
“No. Thanks. I’m good,” he replied, turning in a circle as he took in my living room.
I gave my hands a good scrub, all the while trying not to stare from the other side of the bar as he walked to the pictures hanging on the wall, thoroughly inspecting each before meandering to the next.
I hadn’t had a lot of company since I’d bought the place, but even Beth had been in awe the first time she’d come over.
I might have lived in Jersey, but I’d brought the tropics of Puerto Rico with me.
My entire house had been decorated in varying shades of green and Caribbean blues. My furniture was rustic, distressed wood with cream cushions and throw pillows offering loud pops of color, and R.K. Banks originals hung on nearly every wall to the point that they almost looked like windows to the rainforest.
It was my own little private paradise. A sanctuary so bright and so relaxing that it was impossible not to smile when I walked through the door.
“Wow, this place is…”
“I know.” I smiled, drying my hands on a bright-yellow dishtowel.
He did not return it. “Your credit’s shit. How’d you afford this place?”
My back shot ramrod straight. “What?”
Shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans, he quirked an eyebrow. “City records said you paid in cash. Where’d you get the money?”
