Free The Mane Squeeze by Shelly Laurenston Page B

with her sisters and wishing Gwen was there with her, Gwen suddenly heard herself say something she never thought she’d hear.
    “Ma?”
    “Yeah, baby-girl?”
    Gwen closed her eyes, swallowed, and took that step off the ledge, “I’m moving to New York with Blayne.”
     
    Lock tossed aside the empty beehive and scratched at a few of the bee stings on his arms and neck. “Who am I kidding? What am I going to do with a girl like her?”
    “We had this talk when we were fourteen. I even brought my brother’s Hustler for visual assistance.”
    “I don’t mean that , you dweeb. You didn’t see this girl. Not so much today, ’cause we were both naked, but at the wedding. She’s high maintenance.”
    “I thought you said she was an average Philly girl?”
    “Average Philly girl does not automatically translate into easy maintenance. She probably wants a lot of jewelry and a nice car.”
    “All of which you can now afford.”
    “That’s not the point. I don’t want somebody I have to buy.”
    “You don’t even know this woman and already you’re accusing her of being available for purchase?”
    “Because it makes me feel better that I’ll never get her!” Lock dropped listlessly against the tree. “She uses that shampoo,” he sighed.
    “What shampoo?”
    “The one with honey in it.”
    Ric’s eyes crossed. “Oh, my God.”
    “She was sitting in that tree, her leg bleeding out, and all I could think about was how good her hair smelled.”
    “Why was she sitting in a tree?”
    “She was hiding from the organ thieves.”
    Ric blinked. “Sorry?”
    “Do you really want me to explain it?”
    “Not particularly.”
    Lock stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I need to get her out of my head. That’s the bottom line.”
    Ric got to his feet and gave a quick all-over shake to get the dust and dirt off. “Think you can?”
    Lock shrugged and headed back toward the Van Holtz summerhouse. “Not really.”
     
    Gwen continued to rub her forehead and seriously considered mixing the heavy-duty pain meds with some tequila. Dangerous to her system? Yes. Able to temporarily wipe out the conversation she’d just had with her mother? Possibly.
    She should have waited. She should have waited until she was back home, her mother was back from that spa, and everyone was relaxed and calm. That’s what she should have done, but she also knew she couldn’t wait. If Gwen waited, she’d talk herself out of it. And, for the first time in a very long time, this was something she wanted more than her next breath.
    Hell. It was a future. Her future. And she was going to build it herself. How could she walk away from that?
    She couldn’t. Not now, not ever. But Gwen forgot how much damage her mother could do simply with words. The woman didn’t need claws or fangs, she had her mouth and the ability to wield Irish-Catholic guilt like a ninja sword.
    Sticking her cell phone in the back pocket of her denim shorts, Gwen thought again about getting those pain pills, but without the tequila. Debating on calling for assistance or actually getting off her ass, she was relieved when someone came out of the house—until Brendon stomped down the steps and faced her.
    He held up his cell phone. “Why did your mother just spend ten minutes yelling at me?”
    “Oh, my God.” Gwen dropped her head into her hands.
    “You’re moving to New York?”
    “Look, Brendon, I’m really sorry about—”
    “You’ll stay at my hotel.”
    Gwen stared up at him. Did he have to look so much like Mitch? And did he realize that looking like Mitch only made him a giant, big-maned target? Especially when he was giving her orders the way Mitch tried to do.
    “I appreciate the offer—”
    “It wasn’t an offer,” Brendon told her flatly. “If your mother is going to blame me for this—and my God, the yelling—then you’re staying at my hotel until we find you an acceptable place to live, in a neighborhood I’ve researched and