Page 7 of Unwrapped
Jordana opens a drawer and pulls out two skewers and a butcher knife. “Pick your poison.”
The Maverick sisters have always had my back. I know they’d gleefully slash my brother’s tires and key his car if I encouraged it. While I’d never condone vandalism, the pain I saw in Camille’s eyes makes me consider giving them the green light.
I set down my empty glass. “I love you guys.”
“We love you too,” Talia insists, motioning to herself, her sister, and the rest of our friends. “So cut your shit.”
“Fine. I’ll stay.” A sigh heaves from my chest. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Camille hates me by association. Don’t blame me if the whole weekend is awkward as fuck.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Jordana soothes, abandoning her weaponry to stroke my arm like she’s petting a lion. As the touchy-feely one of our group, she’s always hugging everyone and kissing our cheeks. No joke, affection flows out of her in rivers. Except when it comes to Hudson. There’s a tense undercurrent there that has never made sense to me. Sometimes I wonder if either of them remembers why they clash. She smiles up at me and ruffles my hair. “No one couldeverhate you.”
“You keep forgetting how different you and Ryan are,” Hudson says, slowly shaking his head. “You may share a last name and some gene code, but that’s where the similarities end. There’s a reason none of us keep in touch with him—he’s a dick.”
“Besides,” Jude’s deep voice fills the room as he swirls the whiskey in his tumbler for a few moments. He always does his billionaire dramatic pause when he wants someone’s full attention for whatever he’s about to say. “You aren’t responsible for your brother’s actions.”
“Thank you.” Talia claps his shoulder. “Say it again for the people in the back. Louder this time because Dean’s a little thickheaded.”
“I mean it.” Jude takes a long sip of his booze and pins me with a hard stare. “You need to stop punishing yourself for what he did. I mean, you and Cami were so close back in school. There’s no reason his actions should keep you from having a friendship with her.”
“Maybe someday.” I glance at Talia. “Next time you go to Albany, take a ride down State Street. He drives the gaudy red Mercedes SUV with the SENATOR4U license plate.”
She curls her lip. “Hewouldhave corny-ass personalized plates.”
“They’re a new development.” I roll my eyes. “He got them when he decided on a career upgrade.”
“You mean from state Senate to US Senate?” Hudson asks.
“Yeah.”
“Cocky prick should’ve waited untilafterthe election,” Jordana muses, turning toward the oven to silence its timer. She shoves her hand into an oven mitt. “Everyone, back up so I can get these pies out without burning somebody.”
Jude and Talia move to the other side of the island while I turn my focus to Hudson’s finger.
“Does it hurt?” Unwrapping the towel, I inspect the wound.
“I mean, it doesn’t tickle, but I’ve been in worse pain.” He juts his chin toward his hand. “Can you reattach the skin flap?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have anything other than ice to numb you while I do it.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Ever the smartass, Talia slides a dish rag across the countertop. “You want a towel to bite like they do in the movies?”
He squares his shoulders. “Nah. I can handle it.”
While I admire his pain tolerance, the kitchen isn’t exactly sterile, and I don’t want him to get an infection. Sepsis would really put a damper on our festivities.
I glance at Talia. “Who’s working at your store today? I’m gonna phone in some antibiotics and see what local anesthetics you have in stock.”
Talia and Jordana own Maverick Fountain Pharmacy, a local, independent drugstore only a few miles from the bed and breakfast.
“Summer’s there with Corinne, the student. You probably won’t find what you’re looking for—a lot of the lidocaine products have been on backorder. Our wholesaler is allocating them because the hospitals need them more.” Talia grabs her phone and dials. “So, I recommend you call in something for pain.” She hands it over.
I rest the device against my shoulder and continue gathering supplies while it rings.
“I don’t need pain meds,” Hudson protests, scowling.
Jordana glares in his direction. “Andwedon’t need to listen to you whining later when your macho adrenaline has worn off.”
