Page 40 of Under the Table

Angelica found herself sliding forward, her fingers inching along the edge of the cold counter, closer to where Hope’s hand was, the one she’d just pushed away from her, but now wanted back. She wanted so much back.

The clarity of why they were here and what they could and couldn’t do.

The words she’d spoken to Rex—the fact that she wouldn’t fight for Hope.

The serenity in understanding what her position was, whether she wanted it to be that way or not.

Hope’s phone sounded loudly, jolting them both out of the reverie. Her hand hit the wine glass, knocking it over to the point of shattering along the counter, the dark red liquid pouring over the edge and onto Angelica’s knee.

“Shit,” Hope mumbled, snagging a black cloth napkin and shoving it onto Angelica’s leg. She dabbed the spill, soaking up the liquid.

Angelica covered her hand, pressing the napkin into her knee and thigh before pausing. Her heart raced. That very same urge as before, to wrap her fingers around Hope’s hand, coming straight back into her. The struggle to resist was so difficult, to the point that she couldn’t move. She couldn’t force herself away or make Hope stop touching her.

Hope’s phone went off again, then Angelica’s.

Holding her breath, Angelica reached for her phone in her purse and pulled it out. She had a text from Lyric, reminding her that her plane was leaving shortly. Frowning at it, Angelica checked the time and then cursed.

“We need to leave. Now.”

Hope stumbled upward, her front pressing against Angelica’s as they both moved together. Angelica froze, her heart racing, her entire body firing on all cylinders that it shouldn’t be.

“W-we’re going to miss our flight,” Angelica murmured, her fingers grasped around her phone hard because it was her life saver at the moment.

Hope said nothing, finally stepping back and making space between them. Angelica nearly groaned at the loss of contact. But she managed to dig into her purse for cash, dropped it onto the counter and then took her suitcase.

This would be the longest flight on the planet.

And they were only going from Los Angeles to Kansas City.

A little over three hours and then she could breathe again.

Three hours until she could be in her own space, her own room, and maybe find her sanity.

Who the hell was she kidding?

She was going to go to her room and drown in this sea of arousal she’d been plopped into.

Chapter

Fourteen

Hope squinted as the crew started packing up the equipment they didn’t need. She cocked her head to the side, staring at the stove on the far wall. Something about that stove didn’t seem quite right. Something that…

“No way.” Hope clenched her jaw and walked closer, and then walked to the other side of the room. It gave her a completely different view than when she was close up, but looking from here, it was undeniable. How the hell had she missed it before?

“What’s wrong?” Rex frowned, coming to stand next to her.

“Does that look right to you?” Hope pointed at the hood and the stove, the hood that was not actually over the stove top—or at least only barely.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah.” Hope crossed her arms and looked around the kitchen with new eyes. If someone made that big a screw up, she was bound to find more. Opal Oasis had said they’d just gotten a renovation, brand new in the last year, and yet… there were massive issues with it. And someone should have caught them.

She hadn’t had a minute to truly walk through the kitchen freely and check everything over, but now was as good a timeas any. She went to the back door and started her unofficial inspection there, whipping out her phone and keeping a list of offenses.

By the time she finished, the kitchen was empty except for Rex, who was keeping a close eye on her.

“How bad is it?” he asked.