The Peer and the Puppet (When Rivals Play, #1) (8)
Such pompous bullshit.
Just as a laugh trickled out, I remembered I would soon be suffering the same fate as this kid.
Stomach twisting, I rushed from the closet and quickly slipped from Ever’s room. My heart thundered as if I’d just run ten miles. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten away with that.
I was feeling a bit light-headed when I sat down with a plate of roast beef, carrots, and potatoes, so I ravenously tore off the saran wrap, but then my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I considered ignoring it, but I had a pretty good guess who was calling. Ignoring my hunger pains, I quickly flipped open the receiver, hopped from the stool, and ran for the stairs.
ONE SHORT CONVERSATION WITH GRUFF made it clear that I’d left home, but home hadn’t left me. As I skipped down the stairs, I decided nothing could bring me down.
But then I rounded the corner into the kitchen.
And the smile I wore died.
The steaming plate of food I’d left behind had been scraped clean until nothing remained but a single drop of carrot juice. It was the only evidence there had even been food at all. It was as if the perp had licked it clean after devouring the food.
Thinking I was mistaken, I searched the countertop for a second plate of food, but instead, I found a jar of peanut butter that hadn’t been there before.
Someone had eaten my food.
And I was no longer alone.
I tore my gaze away from my emptied plate and noticed a large hand with tanned skin gripping the handle of the refrigerator door, and clean forest-green high-top sneakers and gray jeans peeking from underneath. The only sound was of him moving things around inside, completely oblivious to my presence.
Before I could consider a more polite greeting, I cleared my throat and watched as more of him appeared until his head was completely visible over the top of the door.
Jesus, fuck, he was tall. The thief easily topped my five foot six with nine or ten inches.
With dark roots and dusty ends, he wore his hair slicked back. His eyes were a dark gold just like the woman in the picture, but rather than warmth, they held the same glacial intensity as his father’s blues.
A dark eyebrow quirked, and I realized I was gawking. “Is there something you need?” he prompted flatly. It didn’t help that his voice was like velvet.
“Hi.” I awkwardly waved. “I—I’m Four.” No response. “You must be Ever?” More silence. “Um…” I glanced longingly at the exit, but then my gaze fell on the empty plate, and I remembered why I even opened my mouth. Sticking my hip out, I threw a thumb over my shoulder. “Did you eat that?”
“I was hungry.”
“But it was my dinner.”
“Thought it was for me.” He stepped back with a shrug and allowed the refrigerator door to close.
I couldn’t think beyond the wide shoulders encased in a very open short-sleeved, button-up of the same forest green as his shoes. The subtle cut of his abs and chest had definitely earned the right for him to show them off so confidently. Still…I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling tongue-tied and flushed. I never noticed boys. Not even when puberty hit and Della Grady, my sole and now former friend, got into boys while I got into bikes.
Ever moved to the island with a bag of celery and orange Gatorade and deftly unscrewed the jar of peanut butter before making quick work of peanut-butter-coated celery. Thankfully, his casual demeanor as I stood by with an empty stomach allowed me to forget how goddamn smoldering he was.
“Do you always go around eating random plates of food?”
He paused from dipping another piece of celery into the jar of peanut butter.
“Since I was the only resident home at the time,” he shot back casually, “it didn’t seem so random to me.”
My fingers curled into fists. The prick had only made it more obvious that he’d known who the food had been meant for.
“What’s the matter, Ever? New kid on the block made you feel less special?”
He went utterly still.
A second later, he was in my face.
“Except you aren’t,” he sneered. “Your mother’s little housekeeping salary couldn’t afford for you to live within fifty miles of here.” I stood frozen as he slowly looked me over and quickly discarded what he saw. “Think of your time here as a temporary upgrade in your mother’s benefits package.” His smile was predatory. “You know…for all the overtime.”
Did he really just call Rosalyn a whore?
I felt tears sting the back of my eyes even as I gripped muscular shoulders and shoved my knee between his legs. I didn’t wait to see if he went down, but his grunt of pain followed me out of the kitchen, so I ran like hell for the front door.
I was once again at the mercy of my emotions. I thought I’d just walk out of Blackwood Keep and never look back. No big deal. Two or three hours later, however, I realized I was as far from the exit as I could get when I wandered onto the beach.
Exhaustion had me accepting defeat quicker than I’d like, but I’d deal with that in the morning, too. My legs felt like twigs, and each step was more painful than the last. I had only begun to consider sleeping on the beach when I smelled the smoke.
It was the sound of Maroon 5’s “Animals” that had me limping across the sand, and when I cleared the dunes, I spotted a group partying around a bonfire. Solo cups littered the ground around them, and I didn’t bother questioning if those coolers contained alcohol.