Page 14 of Filthy Beautiful
No reason to be an asshole about it, either way.
Cary’s little sister.
I headed into the house, looking for her. Found the front door open, Courteney in the driveway, unloading stuff from her little blue BMW.
She stiffened when she saw me coming.
She’d changed into cutoff sweats and a baggy white T-shirt. Showered, maybe. Her long hair was wrapped up in a messy, half-damp bun. The girl seemed to give zero fucks about fashion, and yet she always looked gorgeous.
Sweaty, disheveled, fucking swimming in sweats… didn’t matter.
I tried not to look directly at her.
“Want some help bringing your stuff in?” Seemed like the right thing to offer. Cary definitely wasn’t going to. Loved the guy, but the shit he missed out on while he buried himself in his cave…
“Nothanks,” she snapped.
I helped anyway.
She ignored me.
I carried a bin of books and a bag of clothes, the last stuff in the car, following her up the stairs, into her room. I’d been in here before, though not when she was ever here.
And yes, I knew that made me a creep on some level. But hey, the opportunity was there.
It wasn’t like I went through her drawers. I didn’ttouchanything.
I dumped the stuff on the bed as she set her bags down. Then I openly checked out the room, like I was seeing it for the first time. Cary had it decorated for her when he first bought the place. Everything was white, girly and virginal, which was probably how he saw her then. And probably still did.
I pushed the curtain aside and took a look out the giant window, checking out her view of the backyard and the pool below.
And the poolhouse.
My bedroom window was right there. The shades were open and the sun was glaring off the glass. But if the light wasjustright, at a certain time of day—and definitely at night—no doubt, there’d be a front row view of my bed, stage center.
I glanced over at Courteney.
The contempt and resentment was oozing off her as she stood by the door, waiting for me to leave.
Her impatience just made me root myself right to the floor.
“Nice view,” I said. Because I couldn’t really help giving her a hard time, could I? Nope. Not exactly my nature to pass up such a golden opportunity. “I’ll try to remember to close my shades.”
Yeah, that did it. I could feel her hackles raising from across the room, like switchblades snapping open, one at a time.
“Trust me,” she gritted out. “I’d rather put out my own eyes with a soldering iron.”
Colorful.
“Then I guess I’ll just leave them open.”
Her honey eyes burned at me like churning pits of lava.Damn, the girl had eyes. Courteney Clarke had that whole if-looks-could-kill thing down pat.
Just made me want to piss her off more.
See what happened next…
Jesus.What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I have to poke at her?
