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As soon as I got my money, I was looking for a hotel that would let me bring the dogs and getting the hell away from Boone. Hanging out in this big house with his aunt might’ve been nice, but no way was I spending time around his arrogant ass.
That was it. He was no longer BG, the Butt God, but AA, the Arrogant Ass, or maybeassholefit him better.
Inside the shack, I grabbed my purse and laptop. “Sorry, kids, I’ll be back later.”
Julie wagged her tail, King ignored me, and Izzy tried to bite Julie’s swishing tail.
CHAPTER5
Boone
Marge always hada new suggestion for who I might date next, and it always started with a dinner invitation she sprung on me. “Oh, by the way, fill-in-the-name is coming by for dinner tonight. She’s such a nice girl, don’t you think?”
I might groan, but I never had enough warning to bow out of her dinner traps gracefully. I endured those dinners to be polite. Hell, Mom would’ve killed me if I treated my aunt with anything less than the respect Mom thought she deserved.
As far as I was concerned, it only went to prove that Mom was fallible. Her sister had her fooled. Sweet Marge was cunning to the core.
Right this minute, I didn’t have time to explain to my aunt how awful an idea it was to have me and Angela Lerner in the same room, much less at the same table. That discussion would have to wait until after dinner tonight.
And fucking-A.“I feel faint?”That was total bullshit.
What had I done wrong to deserve being stuck taking damned Angela Lerner into town? Marge was supposed to be on my side.
Angela returned through the back door with a bright smile that was the exact opposite of how I felt about this.
“Be back soon,” she told Marge in a voice that was entirely too cheery.
Of course she’d relish hanging out at my house, making nice with my aunt, and all while finding a way to ruin my life again.
Once had been more than enough.
I hurried out front. Angela followed, with Marge behind her. I went to open the driver’s side door.
“Manners,” my aunt scolded.
I swallowed an argument and started around the truck. “Hold up,” I told Angela.
Her brow furrowed, but she stopped.
Trotting around, I opened the door for her, and closed it gently after she climbed in.
Marge smiled and returned to the house.
“I’m not an invalid,” Angela said after I got in and started the engine. “I can open my own doors.”
“Stop bitching. I did it for my aunt, not for you.”
Her jaw tightened, and she turned straight ahead, without another word.
Silence truly was golden.
We were halfway to town before I broke the stalemate. “I don’t remember you having a sister.”
“She’s my stepsister,” she answered. “My Dad’s second wife had her already when they got married.”
That explained the difference in appearance.
“Where to?”
