Fire & Brimstone (Neighbor from Hell #8) - R.L. Mathewson Page 0,17

be alone, maybe cry if you need to, hmm? How does that sound?” she asked in the most patronizing tone that he’d ever heard and all he could think was that his family had absolutely nothing on her.

“You’re evil, you do know that, don’t you?” he said with a dismissive shake of his head as he looked back down at his phone, refusing to get drawn into another one of her bizarre arguments.

“Yeah,” she said, sighing heavily, “I know, and that’s probably why you’re in love with me.”

“Uh, huh,” he said absently, refusing to take the bait.

“He does seem rather taken with you,” Melanie added, sounding helpful, but they both knew that she was only doing it because she was bored and encouraging Rebecca to fuck with his head amused her.

“I really didn’t mean to lead him on,” Rebecca said, sounding almost sorry.

God, she was fucking good.

“It’s really too bad that you’re not willing to lower your standards,” Melanie said, and yeah, he fucking hated her.

“I know, right?” Rebecca said, making him grind his teeth before he said something that would encourage them.

Lower her fucking standards?

That was fucking bullshit, because she’d be lucky to land someone like him. He’d point that out to her, but once again, he refused to say or do anything that would make this worse and he knew from experience that it could always get worse.

“You could always pretend that he was someone else,” Melanie suggested and yeah, that fucking did it.

“Sorry, but I’m just not into hypochondriacs,” he said, quickly shooting her wink before he returned his attention once again to his phone, making sure to look bored and really not caring that he’d just crossed a line.

*-*-*-*

“Did he…did he seriously just call you a hypochondriac?” Melanie asked, sounding absolutely stunned while she stood there, struggling not to smile, because he really was so damn cute when he thought that he could keep up with her.

Actually, based on that little smug expression that he wasn’t even trying to hide, he thought that he’d just won this match. Wrong. If anything, he’d just made things interesting, which meant that it was time to teach him the rules of this game.

Unfortunately that would have to wait until another time, because right now she needed to get out of here before they said or did anything to get her hopes up again. She couldn’t do it anymore and wouldn’t. The last time had really been the last time and no matter what Melanie or the gloating bastard wanted, she was done.

With that in mind, she turned to Melanie. “Could you run down to the car and get my purse?” she asked, taking her best friend by surprise since she was probably expecting Rebecca to go for Lucifer’s balls.

Frowning, because she’d clearly expected a violent response, she asked, “Didn’t you hear what he just said?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, brushing it off, because she had better things to focus on at the moment. “My purse?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip as she sent her best friend a hopeful expression she knew Melanie would fall for.

Sighing heavily, Melanie reached into her bag and pulled out her keys. “He’s an asshole,” she said pointedly, shooting Lucifer a glare as he stepped aside and allowed her to pass.

Once she was gone and the door was shut, he leaned back against it and for the first time since they’d been ushered into this room, he looked up from his phone. “You didn’t bring a purse,” he reminded her as though this should mean something to her.

“Well,” she said, glancing around the room, looking for anything that would aide in her escape, “you didn’t exactly give me a chance to grab one. Not with all the manhandling.”

“What’s that devious little mind of yours up to?” he asked, not looking as though he really cared that he’d just been called an asshole. Then again, he’d been called worse.

“Escape,” she said, seeing absolutely no point in lying.

“Don’t you want answers?”

“I already got my answer,” she said, wishing this place had a window or a backdoor.

“It was the wrong answer,” he said confidently, which made her chuckle because she knew for a fact that he’d always thought that she was a hypochondriac, or, at the very least, crazy.

“And what makes you so sure that the answer will be any different than last time?” she asked, giving up on escape and decided to sit on the chair stuck in the corner and wait for the doctor. As