Page 112 of Traded
He’s already dressed in his tux. Mine is waiting for me on the back of my door, and I can think of nothing I’d rather dolessthan spend my evening at a fucking party. “Where’s Ro?”
But it’s for charity. More to the point, a kid’s charity that Rosie volunteers with when our lives haven’t been turned upside down, and I know tonight is important to her. So I’m shutting up and putting up. Liam jerks his thumb toward the nest. “In there.”
Where she always is. I’m not sure I’ve seen her outside her nest in days. “Right.”
When I move past him, his hand wraps around my arm. “Everything good with you?”
“Course.” I step out of the contact zone. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’ve been acting off.” He plays with the watch on his wrist, uncharacteristically awkward. “Honestly, you’ve been off since Montreal. What’s up?”
What’s fucking up is that you made my omega feel so unwanted in her own fucking home that she tore her nest apart and filled it with bleach fumes.
My response is short enough that it makes the words pointless. “Nothing a week off and an ice bath won’t fix.”
I’ve been watching him since then. I see the way his eyes shift toward the nest. “And Rosie’s good.”
“You asking or telling me?” I raise my eyebrows. “You’re the one who keeps telling me she’s fine.”
Does he fucking care? Or is he so obsessed with his damned scent match that Rosie isn’t even on his radar anymore? Jonas appears, and I focus on my other point of major irritation. He’s flapping with his cufflinks. “I don’t think these work. Damn it. I ordered them for tonight.”
Of course he did. He never wears the same thing twice if he can help it.
“They’re fine.” Lauren appears behind him, throwing me a quick smile before she fastens them in place. “They look great.”
He plants a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you. And you look perfect.”
I wait for him to look around. When he doesn’t, grinning at Lauren like he’s lost his damn mind, my irritation grows. “You’d better say the same to Rosie when she comes out.”
“To Rosie?” He doesn’t look my way. “Why?”
Jesusfuck.
I excuse myself to shower and change before I completely lose my shit on them. Less than ten minutes, and I’m knocking on her door. “Ro?”
“Come in.” I push it open, looking around for her. “I’m in the closet.”
I take a breath, hating the faint scent of bleach that still lingers before crossing to the doorway. She’s muttering at her own hair as she works it into an updo, and I lean against the doorway to watch with a low whistle. “Looks like I need some popcorn.”
She raises her brows at me in the mirror as she slides another pin into her hair. “Um. What?”
“So I can watch you in that dress.” I slip inside as she chokes on a laugh.
“That was terrible.”
“I meant every word.” Dropping my gaze to the exposed, lightly freckled skin at the base of her neck, I can’t resist a taste. “I don’t think we should go. I think we should stay and play the present unwrapping game. All night. You can be the present.”
She shoves lightly at my good shoulder as she turns. But she’s smiling. “You’re such a dork. Good job you’re pretty, Reynolds.”
Her dress is long and shiny and the deep, dark shade of green that she loves. I run a finger over the single strap that runs over her left shoulder. “Happy to show you that I’m not just a pretty face.”
“Later. We have an event to get to.” Ducking under my arm and leaving me in a half-aroused, half-amused state of pain, she crosses to the dressing table and I watch her slip in a pair of studs. “I promised Ronnie that we’d bid on some things in the auction.”
“Bid on whatever you want.” My fingers reach out to brush her dress as she sashays past for her handbag, and she ducks them with a small laugh.
Music to my fucking ears. She seems to be lighter since our conversation, and it only makes me more irritated that it took me so long to realize how much she was carrying. “I’m going to blow the kids’ inheritance on dinner with their mom, though, so there might not be much left.”
Her skin turns a beautiful, flushed shade of crimson to match her hair. “You’re going to bid on me?”
