Page 98 of Unleashed

“Good morning.” I set my computer bag down on my desk, trying to look bitter and annoyed. Like I always do.

But it’s becoming more and more difficult to be my normal crabby self. Especially when I’m getting such good sleep every night.

In Trevor’s bed.

Three nights in, and I’m not sure he’s ever going to get me back out of it. The thing is ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as Trevor’s love of snuggling. I swear he stays attached to me the entire night. It’s smothering. Stifling. Makes it impossible to turn over or readjust.

I kinda like it.

“Good morning.” Brooke lifts her brows, cringing a little as she asks, “Think you’re ready for your first Bradshaw family dinner tonight?”

“Is anyone ever ready for their first Bradshaw family dinner?” I’m not sure one can prepare for that. “Luckily, I have Zara to keep everyone distracted, so I’m figuring it’s like I won’t even really be there.”

My sister is fucking great, but the thing I like best about her is that I can just trail behind her and she handles all social interactions for us. Even at five, she’s an amazing conversationalist. Remembers everyone’s name, and most of what they tell her. It’s pretty impressive. Some days I don’t even know my own name.

And I don’t generally listen to what people tell me.

Brooke gives me a tight smile. “Sure. Yeah. That might happen.”

I don’t like her reaction.

I already have too many things to worry about. I don’t need stress over the dinner I cannot get out of added to the pile.

I pull my computer from the bag, setting it up as Brooke perches on the end of my desk. “How are things going with you and Zara staying at Trevor’s?”

“Fine.” I try to keep my reaction in check, but the prickle of warmth spreading across my cheeks is a pretty good indication I’ve failed. “He’s got plenty of space, and I finally figured out how to work the microwave, so it’s been totally acceptable.”

Especially when he tries to put me through that miraculous mattress of his.

I fight the urge to fan my face, unable to look my friend in the eye as I continue finding things to adjust around my workspace.

“Good. I was really worried he would be a pain in the ass about other people invading his space.” Brooke smirks. “Especially considering how much Zara likes to be crafty.”

She does like to be crafty. So much so, the table in Trevor’s breakfast room is currently covered with a collection of jewelry making supplies, water-based paints, and her entire box of stamps.

Since we had to file paperwork and have a school-arranged background check done for Quinn before he can accompany her into the building, she’s been staying home from school, spending her days being babysat by America’s favorite mother.

And a mercenary.

“Ladies.”

I turn to find Walker striding toward us, a familiar woman at his side.

He gestures toward her. “This is Lindsey.” His hands swing our way. “Lindsey, this is Maren and Brooke.”

Lindsey gives me a megawatt smile, her curled blonde hair bouncing a little as she comes straight toward me. “We’ve actually met before. You were part of the interview process.”

Oh, I remember.

“It’s good to see you again.” I tamp down the ugly bite of jealousy already trying to rear its head as I shake her hand. There’s no reason to be jealous of this woman. Never has she indicated she has any actual interest in Trevor.

I was just concerned. Because why wouldn’t she have an interest in Trevor? He’s good looking, can be charming when he wants to be, has a great house, nice car.

And is very, very good at sex.

But I’m the one he’s sexing, and Trevor has made it very clear—on more than one occasion—that I’m the only one he’s sexing.

Which is good, since I now have a murder van.