Page 93 of The Bitter Words

There’s a loud crash from the floor above, followed by Lorna cursing.

Greg gets up and rushes to the bottom of the back staircase. “Lorna, is everything okay?”

“No. Could you please come up here and help me?” she hollers.

He glances at us. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“By all means.” I nod and tense.

Being alone in a room with Livianna could turn out terribly. I never know what she’s going to do.

She’s a wild card and I don’t like it. Greg dashes off and we’re left all by ourselves.

I gesture to the fridge. “By chance, can I get a drink of something? Your dad offered and I declined, but my throat is a little dry now.”

She crosses her legs and doesn’t say a word.

I shift. “Is that a no?”

“When you want something from me, I’m supposed to jump, but when it’s the other way around, you do nothing.” She raises her eyebrows and folds her arms over her chest.

Dammit!I see she’s going to be defiant.

“Never mind. I’ll get it. Your mom told me to make myselfat home.” I rise and stride to their mini-fridge. I know they have one from the other times I’ve been here. “Can I get you something while I’m up?”

“Yes. I do want something.”

“What would you like?”

“For you to tell me why you keep avoiding me.”

“I’m not. I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, right. There’s not an extra minute in your day to help a friend’s daughter get her dreams off the ground?”

“Believe it or not, Livianna, I want that for you.” I crouch down and search for something strong to help me relax because I just realized my heart is thumping hard and my breathing has escalated.

Why do I let her get to me when she acts like this?

A bottle of vodka is the strongest thing in their little fridge. I would prefer a scotch or a whiskey, but I can’t find one. I glance around the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” She pushes out of her chair and saunters her way beside me. “Maybe I could help?”

I back up next to the counter behind me. “Do you have scotch or anything along those lines?”

“We do. What’s your preference?”

“Jack Daniel’s would be fine.”

“Hmm.” She steps in front of me, gets on her tiptoes, and reaches into a cabinet by my head. Her breasts skim over the front of my arm. “I would’ve taken you more for The Macallan type.”

Her perfume drifts around me and I get a little lightheaded. She brings out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a short glass, batting her eyelashes at me as she does. My chest tightens and my insides twist and turn.

I swallow and adjust my collar. “The Macallan is a great choice.”

“It’s one of my favorites.” She sways to the ice maker,giving me some much-needed room. “Oh, neat or on the rocks?”

“On the rocks, please.”Because I’m about to overheat.