Page 186 of Filthy Beautiful
“I know.” Sick kids. That was a really, really good cause.
But I hated the idea of Xander standing there onstage in a nightclub while rich women mentally undressed him and bid on a date with him.
“Seriously,” Shay said. “You havegotto be a fly on the wall in that room. If he’s polite about the whole thing, cool. Then you know he’s just doing it for Trey and the kids. But if he eats up the attention like a greedy ho… you’ve seen all you need to see.”
“Shit…” I muttered, and sank deeper into the hot tub.
My girlfriends exchanged a concerned look.
Larissa sighed. “Maybe he’ll surprise you, babe.”
“Right.”
“Maybe acting like it was all about sex was just that—anact,” Shay said. “Maybe he’s just trying to play it cool?” She looked to Larissa and Angie for support. “Guys are idiots sometimes…”
“Had to be,” Larissa agreed. “No way it was all about sex. He cares about you more than that, Court.”
“Does he?” Angie said skeptically.
“Of course he does,” Larissa said. “He was worried about Stephan taking advantage of her while she was drunk.”
“That’s just a stupid big brother thing, though,” I complained. “Like he’s BFFs with mine, and that makes him think he can butt into everything.”
“Maybe he feels guilty?” Larissa suggested. “You know, like he doesn’t want to make it into a big thing and then Cary finds out? Especially if you get hurt or something.”
“Yeah.” Shay snorted. “He’s trying to protect himself so he doesn’t get his ass kicked.”
“Hmm,” Larissa mused. “Do you think Carycouldkick Xander’s ass? He’s got, like, a lot of muscles…”
“I get it,” I cut in, frustrated. “And it’s sweet of him to not want to upset my brother. But… what about me?” I looked around at my friends for help, including Angie, who’d been pretty quiet.
My best friend was sitting next to me with a thoughtful/sympathetic look on her face.
“Doesn’t he care about my feelings at all?” I asked her.
Angie sighed, like she really wished she had something nicer to say. But best friend code demanded that she also be honest with me.
“Not if he doesn’t have any,” she said.
* * *
My brother’s yard was dark. Except for the damn automatic lights that came on over the driveway when I triggered the sensor. I’d had Larissa drop me outside the gate, but I forgot about the stupid motion sensor lights.
I stole through the trees alongside the house, swearing to myself and hissing at the lights to turn off.
They didn’t.
Around back, the golden lanterns around the pool and gardens were glowing dully. I crept to the poolhouse door, carrying my flip-flops in hand, eased the door open and slipped inside. I’d just eased it closed again in total silence, or so I thought, when something stirred in the dark of the room.
I screamed bloody, rapey murder, grabbing at the doorknob to get out of there before the killer hacked me to pieces.
A lamp switched on and Xander sat on the couch, squint-glaring at me and dragging a hand through his hair—as I panted and tried to stave off the heart attack.
“FUCK. Don’t do that.”
“Are you drunk,” he growled, “or sober right now?”
I glared at him and threw my purse on a table, dropping my flip-flops with a splat. “Half-and-half. Why?”
