Page 61 of Never His Girl
“You’ll have to wait a bit. She’s in the shower, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“No!” I say quickly. “I mean, it’s okay to saysomeone’shere, but don’t say who. Please.”
All I need is for Southside’s scrappy ass to hear my name and she’d climb out the bathroom window before I even get a word in.
Scarlett eyes me a few seconds, and then disappears around the corner. Not long after, I hear her pound on a door before yelling to let Southside know she has company.
The place is quiet, wreaking of pine-scented cleaner I can only guess is coming from the dark spot in the carpet. Where it looks like someone’s scrubbed the hell out of it. I’m guessing her dad’s here, but he hasn’t made himself known yet. Not that I’mcomplaining.
My nerves are fried, so I don’t bother trying to sit. Instead, I pace, using the time to glance around at family photos. Some nailed to the walls, others resting on top of aged furniture placed around the room.
I stop at one of a toothless Southside grinning up at the camera. She’s smiling, yeah, but she’s far from happy. Even back then, it looks like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. How that’s possible, I have no clue.
Moving down the line, I come to one of her when she’s a little older. Someone captured her braiding Scarlett’s hair, looking every bit as devoted to her then as she is now. The two share a bond that blows my mind, rivaling my own with Dane and Sterling. Here I was thinkingwewere close, but the Riley sisters have raised the bar to a whole new level.
I glance over at the next one, laying eyes on a woman who looks so much like Southside it confuses me at first. She’s hugging her three kids, and this is the only one I see where there’s genuine happiness. The smiles don’t look forced or temporary, although I know firsthand that they don’t last. Still, I imagine this is one of those moments Southside holds on to, an anchor moment—a memory that keeps us from getting swept away when life turns into a storm.
Some of us have more storms than others.
“You know better than to let someone into the house this late, Scarlett!” Southside shrieks from down the hall. “What are you thinking? It’s—”
Those words cut off the moment I turn, laying eyes on the one who both infuriates me and jumpstarts my fucking heart. Taking note of that deer-caught-in-headlights look now set on her face, I’m aware of the moment her fight or flight kicks in, telling her to run like hell.
Her feet thunder across the carpet at lightspeed, out of the living room and back down the hall. I’m faster, though, which is why she’s surprised as hell when I manage to catch her around her towel-clad waist with one arm, lifting her off the ground. A high-pitched yelp leaves her mouth when I toss her over my shoulder caveman-style, grabbing a handful of bare ass in the process.
Can’t say I mind that part.
She’s not your typical damsel in distress by any means. She doesn’t scream for help. Instead she’s cussing like a raging sailor andclawingat my fucking back like a rabid cat, not pounding on it like most girls would do. I spot her room—the one with twinkling lights strung from the ceiling—and charge in at full-steam, tossing her down on the bed roughly before rushing back to lock the door behind me.
The towel that once covered her came undone and fell to the floor while she fought me. Now, I can’t take my eyes off her as she stands to grab it.
“You… are an ass!” she shouts, resecuring the blue terrycloth fabric across her chest.
There’s heavy pounding at the door. “I’m calling the cops?!?!” Scarlett announces from the other side.
“Don’t!” Southside and I yell in unison, causing her sister to fall silent across the threshold.
Waiting to see what Southside’s next move will be, I’m getting the death-stare of a lifetime. Girl has me praying harder than I’m panting, with hopes that she’s not about to freak out again.
“Just… go to your room, Scar,” Southside eventually concedes, breathing like she just ran a quick lap around the track.
She’s covered now and her damp hair rests on both shoulders. Won’t lie; knowing she’s practically naked right now has me distracted. If I’m being honest, I don’t think she’s ever looked sexier, which is why I’ve nearly forgotten why I’m here. It isn’t until I spot that damn pink softball bat that my memory gets triggered.
“Kind of late to be getting in the shower, isn’t it? Must’ve worked up quite a sweat fucking up my car,” I snap.
She’s got both fists balled at her sides, clearly squaring up for a fight. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
I take my eyes off her for one second to pick up the bat, and when I stand straight again, she swings a fist at me.
Yeah, she misses, but I’m still shocked she just tried to punch me.
“The fuck is wrong with you?”
“You!” she shouts. “You’re what the fuck is wrong with me!”
She tightens the towel around her chest again and I see her hands are still balled into fists. This time, when she swings, I’m ready for her and manage to get her restrained, holding her tight against me, which she hates.