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That was oddly detailed and I wondered if that had been the exact message Zane had sent. Knowing him, it was. He could get creative with his promises. And I say that because Zane doesn’t threaten, and neither did Easton.
I kept my gaze on Easton when I told her, “It’s good to hear my man has my back.”
“So it’s true. You’re shacked up with Easton Spears.”
She didn’t sound disgusted now, just curious.
A few months ago, I never would’ve confirmed my location or something so personal.
But I was a new me and I was shacked up with Easton—sort of. It wasn’t official that I was living with him. He hadn’t asked, but when Anna had sorted my condo and packed my stuff she’d mailed some boxes to Maryland and stored the rest, including my furniture in one of my father’s big garages. Those boxes, minus the clothes I needed out of them, were stacked in Easton’s basement. He hadn’t invited me to unpack them, so there they stayed.
But still, I gave her an affirmative answer even if I didn’t know if it was true.
“I am.”
“When I get back to the States you owe me a drink.”
“You know you can no longer get me drunk and torture intel out of me. The Prince of Pussy was the last of that.”
Easton’s eyes narrowed.
It was cute.
A look I didn’t see on him often. Hot—always. Sexy—all the time. Badass—it was his nature so it poured out of him. Cute—only on a rare occasion, usually in the morning after he’d given me soft and gentle and sweet.
“So dramatic,” she huffed. “I didn’t torture you.”
“It wasn’t you hugging the porcelain the next morning.”
“Just wait until you’ve got mini-Eastons planted in your belly and you’re worshiping on the throne of the porcelain goddess, pondering the error of your ways letting his inherent badass sexiness inject you with his badass swimmers.”
Ew.
But there you go. Easton’s badassness couldn’t be denied, neither could his sexiness.
“If the time comes I’ve been impregnated by Easton’s super sperm, I’ll make sure to let you know how that’s going.”
“If? You mean when.”
That was not from Stella.
“If I tell you your man has a sexy voice, would you shoot me?”
“No, I’d slice your throat.”
“Good to hear my Dove’s still in there, even if she’s buried under happiness and shit.”
With that, Stella disconnected.
My Dove.
Translation: I’m happy for you, sis.
It would seem my frenemy wasn’t so much an enemy as she was a friend. Not that I had any notions Lore wasn’t Lore and she’d take care of herself above all else.
I put my phone down on the counter but didn’t have time to do much else before Easton was in my space.
“Did you hear me?”
