Make My Move (Hannaford Prep #5) - J. Bree Page 0,36

the blankets up around her chest and she whispers, right in my fucking face, “I can’t fuck a Hannaford boy.”

Chapter Twelve

Ash

Avery dances in the ballet like a dream, all of her hard work paying off, and she stands out as the star of the entire show.

Senior doesn’t show up, for the first time ever he misses an opportunity to see us both and do his usual brand of terrorizing us, because he beats me to get to Avery, and he reminds me of all of the things he could do to her to fuck with my head. It’s not exactly original but it’s fucking effective thanks to all of the times he’s forced me to be involved in the sick games he and Joey play.

I can’t help but wonder if this is what the Mounty did for us both, but there’s no way some girl from the slums of the Bay could have arranged that.

We arrive back with Blaise and we walk Avery to her room together, helping to carry all of her dance gear. Blaise is looking hungover as fuck, thanks to his night of trying to escape his fucked-up family dynamic by finding the bottom of a bottle of bourbon, but he still manages to carry a bag and grunt along with our conversation.

The smell of whiskey hits us the second Avery gets the door of her room open.

Blaise’s eyebrows shoot up, looking alive for the first time today, and Avery startles a little before slipping her shoes off and creeping into the room.

The Mounty drank at Joey’s party last night.

Fucking typical.

Fury pools in my gut, but Avery knows me better than she knows herself and turns to give me a savage glare as my mouth opens to wake the Mounty the fuck up and chew her out. Blaise rocks on his heels for a second before he drops Avery’s bag to the ground, with just enough care that it doesn’t make any noise, and then he leaves without a word. I get a look at his face as he leaves, even as he ducks his head to attempt to hide the gutted look he’s now wearing.

Fucking Mounty.

I turn back just as Avery steps over a pair of jeans that are definitely not hers or the Mounty’s, and I almost bite my fucking tongue off to stop myself from unleashing a slew of vitriol.

Then Harley staggers out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a queasy, pissed off look on his face, and I’m glad Blaise got the hell out of here. Fuck, the fight we’d be dealing with if he’d gotten an eyeful of this walk of shame… it would be catastrophic, and it’s the entire fucking reason I didn’t want the Mounty anywhere near any of us.

She’s fucking poison.

Avery’s eyes narrow at him and it’s only when she points one perfectly manicured finger at her bed that I notice it’s unmade.

“What the hell are you doing sleeping in my bed, dressed like that?” Even whispered her words drip with acid.

Harley shrugs and walks over to the walk-in, flicking open one of the drawers and grabbing out one of my shirts to pull over his head. “What the fuck else am I supposed to wear while I sleep? Even Ash’s pompous ass doesn’t wear silk to bed like you, Floss.”

She huffs and props her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed like she can smell the bullshit wafting off of him. “Why the fuck were you sleeping in my bed to begin with, Arbour? You had a room to yourself for the night, you could’ve found some slut to bend over.”

She’s baiting him and we all know it, but it slides right off of him without so much as a clenched fist or gritted teeth as a reaction.

He steps into his jeans and pulls them up, ignoring Avery’s huffs of indignation. “What, you think I should’ve left Lips up here by herself, drunk and passed out after we’d seen Joey and pissed him off? I had her back while you were gone, just like you asked. She’s going to be hungover as fuck, you should let her sleep it off.”

Huh.

I share a look with Avery because that’s not at all what either of us were expecting.

He doesn’t stick around for any more questions either, just grabs his jacket and shoves his feet in his shoes as he hightails it out of there. I kiss Avery’s cheek and then follow him out, determined