Page 33 of Broken Romeo

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Page 33 of Broken Romeo

Even still, there couldn’t be that many people selling panties in our small college town.

“You know,” I said, “you’ll probably need something other than cotton underwear with rubber duckies on them to sell.”

If her face was peach before, it was downright scarlet now. “I’m covered, thanks.”

“Well,” I said, “I’d actually say the less covered, the better. More likely to make top dollar, ya know?”

Her nostrils flared and she nibbled at the inside of her cheek. “Less coverage,” she ground out between her gnashed teeth. “Got it. But you know, I think some guys might be into the cute, simple cotton thong thing. Gives them that schoolgirl fantasy, you know?”

Oh fuck my life.

Katherine.

In a plain, white cotton thong beneath a plaid schoolgirl skirt.

My mind imploded.

“Good point,” I croaked. “Please tell me it will include pictures.”

After a moment of panic, evident in the widening of her eyes, she tipped her chin higher. “Of course. How else will they know what they’re getting?”

She was toying with me. Thinking she could get the better of me. And she was almost correct. Jealousy knotted in my chest, tightening its grip on my heart. Tightening my desire for this girl.

“Great,” I sneered at her. Never one to let a girl—or anyone for that matter—get the best of me, my brain took over and delivered the knockout punch. “Can’t wait to see what sweat-fetish basement dweller buys your swamp-ass panties.”

Then, I popped another grape into my mouth and turned my back on her.

My dad’s voice rang in my head. “Whoever yelled the loudest or walked away first, won.” A lesson he and my fucking grandfather had taught me from the time I learned to talk.

I turned my fucking back on the only girl in years I felt anything real for… and I walked away.

Because that’s what Dorsey’s did.

We walked away. We hurt the women we cared most about.

I truly was my fucking father’s son.

CHAPTER TEN

Once the door shuts behind Maggie, Holden and I are alone in the dark, empty theater. I spin to face him, to confront him, but he’s already so close that my nose bumps his chest.

He catches my waist, stopping me as I stumble backwards.

I let loose with a frustrated sound. Waving my hands, I break free from his hold and stomp past him to the stage. “Ugh! You are so infuriating!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

His booming voice is on my heels, his footsteps directly behind me. “I’m not the one who let that asshole get away with not knowing your name.”

I halt mid-step and whip around. “I didn’t let him get away with anything. It was clear he didn’t know my name. Making him sweat it out another thirty seconds wasn’t going to change that.”

Holden’s brown eyes smolder, and he rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m the director, Kate. There’s a hierarchy within these walls. I’m in charge. Not you… me.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Oh, as if you could ever let me forget that! We’ve had three days of rehearsals, and you flex that director bicep every chance you get. Overcompensate much?”

He draws back, scoffing. “You think I’m overcompensating?”




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