Page 7 of Nothing to Tell

Jerk.

“Settled, yes,” she said, bile rising in the back of her throat.“Right, sure.”

What a rookie move.Where was her forethought?This should’ve been anticipated.

Damon despised confrontation, he much preferred to stab someone in the back and walk away.He’d never come over to chat just to be nice, of course he wanted something.

For at least a year before the affair was uncovered, Charissa lived at the Scott house with Adara.A six-bedroom house wouldn’t be nearly big enough to avoid the happy couple if they moved in.

“I told him we can’t accept without discussing it with you first.”

Oh, yeah, ‘cause he was known for being so gracious.This wasn’t his idea.Damon didn’t care about her comfort or convenience, or anyone’s comfort or convenience.This was Adara, she’d put money on it.

“So you came over here…” she said, fighting an impulse to grind her teeth within her frozen smile.“We haven’t spoken for a year, and you came over here to ask if you could move into my house?”

“Your father’s house,” Damon said.Like that distinction mattered when it came to sharing a kitchen.Why did they have to live in such an expensive city?“It’s not out of line.It was my house too.”

He lived there with her.Withher.Damon lived there with her, as her partner.Not that she’d say that.Davis Scott, her father, liked to keep his daughters close and rewarded them for complying.Adara would move out after she was married.At this rate, Harper would be in that house until her dying day.

“Are you coming back to the firm?”she asked, mentally crossing her fingers.

“I never left the firm,” Damon said.

Just her.

Right.

Seeking her whiskey, she fumbled for the glass on the bar behind her.Snatching it up, she took that medicine with the ferocity of an asthmatic sucking on an inhaler.Instant death averted.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I think everyone’s past this now.”Damon’s hand came toward her in a move too reminiscent of the aunt’s conciliatory pat.Nope.No way.She veered aside, going around him, putting her back to the room, forcing Damon’s back to the bar.Ha!Escape would be easier from that angle.“Harper…”

The pity was coming.It was coming.Brace for impact.Brace.Brace.Brace.She didn’t want to flinch, but holding her head high was becoming more and more difficult.Her stupid ex was about to feed her a “there, there” speech.

In the corner of her eye, Charissa approached on an intercept course.

What the fuck?Glancing down, she half expected to be naked.This was the worst nightmare of her life.

Damon’s pity and Charissa’s gloating at the same time?Who was capable of enduring that without losing their sanity?

“Sorry I’m late.”

A masculine voice materialized behind her.

Damon’s demeanor changed.Pity gone, offense tensed him.Oh, he wasn’t happy.Check out the snarl.

Something touched her elbow, a warm hand.Huh.A quick glance over her shoulder and, yep, confirmed, there was a man standing behind her.Not just behind her like that’s where he happened to be, but actually behindher.

“Bastian Hunt,” the voice spoke again.

The hand left her elbow and reached around, offering itself to Damon.The voice, the hand, both belonged to this stranger at her back.

“Damon Twaddle,” her ex said, accepting the shake.

Oh, well, the guys had been introduced.Great!Good for them, maybe now someone could clue her in.

Wary, Damon seemed confused, for which he could be forgiven, hers might be contagious.