Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Brenna

I tossed and turned in my bed, rolling over
the most embarrassing moments of the evening, again and again.  Every one of them belonged to me.

I’d thrown up in the bathroom.

I’d assumed I knew Ridley well enough to know what he would find acceptable and what he wouldn’t.

I’d bitten Ian.  And I hadn’t gotten any closer to confessing my secret to him.  If anything, I was even further away.

My hands travelled to my belly. 

It was funny, because I’d always assumed that when pregnant women did that, it was an affected gesture.  But my hands seemed to have mind of their own. They’d been seeking my stomach a lot, and I was pretty sure it was only going to happen more and more often.

And in just two weeks, I’d get to
see
that tiny life growing inside me.

My doctor had given me the referral at my appointment that morning.

Oh no.

I sat bolt upright in bed.

I’d left my purse, and all the paperwork from the doctor with it, inside Ridley and Ian’s powder room.

Oh my God.

I jumped up, ran for Risa’s room, and shook her awake.

“You have to help me.”

She rolled over and fixed me with a bloodshot glare. “You’re not my type.”

“Risa, I’m serious.”

She sighed. “Fine. I guess you’re already knocked up so I can’t do any more damage. But you’re on top.”

“I left my purse next door.”

“So? Go over there and get it.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Wait until the morning then.”

“Risa, I can’t. My blood work results are in my purse. So is my ultrasound requisition. I can’t risk that Ian or Ridley finds it!”

She finally sat up. “Break in.”

“What?”

“You can either take your chances with leaving your incriminating shit there, or you can break in and steal it back.”

I yanked on my ponytail. “Oh dear lord. Fine. How do I break in?”

Risa jumped to her feet and moved to her closet.  After a few seconds of rummaging, she lifted out a reusable shopping bag triumphantly, then shoved it into my hands.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A change of clothes. And a lock pick.”

“Hang on,” I protested. “You want me
to pick the lock? And then get changed? What the hell, Risa?”

My roommate rolled her eyes. “
In the opposite order. But yeah. What did you think you were going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to knock?”

“No.”

“Then what were you thinking of doing?”

“For starters, I wasn’t planning on going in dressed like a home invader. I was planning on wearing jeans and a t-shirt. For finishers
—”

“I don’t think that a term,” Risa interrupted.

“What?”

“Finishers.”

“Would you just shut up and listen?”

She pouted. “
No.”

“I don’t want to do this,” I said firmly. “
I changed my mind. I’m
not
doing this.”

Ten minutes later, I found myself standing on Ridley and Ian’s back porch anyway. 

I was dressed in a black turtleneck, turned inside out to hide the Christmas reindeer on the front and Risa’s yoga pants, which were a size too big around and a size too short in the legs.  The ski mask blocked most of my vision, and what little I
could
see was obscured by sweat.

“I don’t know about this,” I hissed.

“Oh, c’mon!” Risa called back from her spot in the bushes.

“It’s
your
break-in kit. You do it!” I paused. “Why do you
have
a break-in kit anyway?”

“Let’s just say there are
no
nasty pictures of my ass floating around the Internet.”

I groaned.

“Do it!” she commanded.

Reluctantly, I eased the two pieces of the lock pick set into the keyhole and twisted.  Nothing happened.

“Isn’t it supposed to click?” I asked.

“Not unless you actually
do
something.”

“Like what?”

“Seriously?” Risa replied. “Have you never busted into a frat house or anything?”

“No!”

“Of course not,” she muttered.

“Little help!”

She sighed loudly. “Okay, you have to hold the flatter piece in place at the bottom of the lock. Use the hooked thingy to find the pins. Push each one up. When you’ve got them all, twist the handle.”

“All right.”

I struggled to do as she instructed but my gloved hands were slippery.  Finally, after a full minute of jiggling the hooked tool, I heard a tiny click.

Yes!

My triumph was short-lived.  The second I released my grip on the flat instrument, it slid from my fingers and clattered through the slats in the deck.

“What was that?” Risa demanded immediately.

“You don’t want to know.”

“You dropped it, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” I sighed. “Can we just forget this?”

“No way.”

“Risa…”

“The living room window’s cracked. We’ll push it open and you can climb in,” she suggested.

I took a few steps back and eyed the window skeptically.  Its opening was five feet off the ground and looked about as wide around as one of my thighs.

“By the time I squeeze my butt through that thing, this baby will be overdue,” I stated.

Risa appeared at my side.

“I’ll give you a boost,” she offered.

“Did you seriously just say that?”

She bent down and laced her fingers together. “Get up.”

“No way.”

“We could
break
the window instead.”

I shot her a horrified glare. “Oh my God. No. Just grab that chair off the patio and bring it over.”

Risa crept to the deck, snagged the chair, and deposited it at my feet.

With a big sigh, I
grabbed the back of the chair and climbed up.  I pushed the window all the way open.  It was still disappointingly small.  But at least I was close enough to reach.  And at least I didn’t have to use Risa’s hands to get there.

I slipped my head and shoulders through the window and glanced around.  It was dark in the sparsely decorated living room.  The lamp on the street behind me provided the only light and the only things I could make out were a lumpy, pillow-filled couch and giant television.

“What do you see?”

Risa’s voice startled me and I jerked my head up, cracking it on the frame above.

“Well?” she prodded.

I gritted my teeth. “Right now I only see one thing – stars.”

“I’m going to lift your legs up.”

“What? N
—”

It was too late.  Risa’s hands closed over my knees and with a grunt, she hoisted me to hip level at the window.

“What can you see
now
?” she asked.

“The same thing I could see before,” I replied. “Which is that there’s nowhere for me to land. Except on m
y head. On hardwood. Or maybe if I miss the floor…On that slab of marble on the fireplace.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I tried to!”

It was my roommate’s turn to sigh. “I’m going to pull you out.”

“Damn right,” I grumbled.

She tugged on my ankles. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

“You’re stuck.”

“What? No! Risa, get me out!”

She pulled harder and my hips wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t do it,” she told me.

“Keep trying,” I urged.

“Bren…”

“What?!”

“You were right. This was a bad idea.”

“Now you’re admitting it?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit.”

“Do you want me to call the fire department?”

I took a breath. “Risa?”

“Yeah?”

“If you call the fire department, I will short-sheet you
r bed. I will replace your toothpaste with super glue. I will stick sugar pills in with your birth control and poke a hole in every condom you own. I will call your mom and tell her that orange thing in your dresser drawer is most definitely
not
a motorized carrot. I will take that picture of you with the braces and the girl-mullet and I will plaster it all over every social media platform I can find. Then I will place an ad on a dating site seeking a much older man for some group sex and I will link it to you actual cell phone number.” I paused. “Are we clear?”

“Perfectly,” my roommate squeaked in a distinctly un-Risa-like way.

“Now. Get me the hell out of here!”

She yanked again but all that happened was that my
borrowed yoga pants slipped down.

“Can I throw out an idea without you getting all flip-tastic on me again?” Risa asked.

“I can’t make any promises.”

She hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “If I pull your pants down all the way, and you can get the sweater off, you might have a little extra give. If you’re sweaty, it could help.”

I closed my eyes. “Fine.”

She paused again.
“Really? Because it seems like the kind of thing you’d usually argue against.”

“Just pull off the damned pants. Please.”

Two seconds later, the fabric ripped from my legs and a cool breeze made my skin prickle.  I did my best to ignore the overly-exposed feeling and reached down to yank the turtleneck from my waist to my shoulders and over my head.  It wasn’t until I was already dropping the shirt that I realized I’d caught both the ski mask and my glasses inside.

“Oh, great,” I groaned.

“Are you okay?”

“Shut up.”

“Hey!”

“When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you.”

I wriggled a little and was surprised to find that I
did
have a little more room.  I shimmied slightly and suddenly I was free.  And falling forward.  My hands came out to break the momentum and they caught the edge of couch.  I clung to it, desperate to keep from cracking any part of my body on the floor.  Just barely, I saved everything but my knees, which squealed across the floor painfully and made my eyes water.

Risa’s voice floated through the window. “Are you in?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“As okay as I can be,” I told her. “But my glasses fell off.”

“Why were you wearing your glasses in the first place?”

“So I could see?”

“Hmm. Well, I personally would’ve put in my contacts underneath the balaclava.”

“I was in bed! And you didn’t exactly give much time to decide!” I snapped.

“Right. Okay, let me know what happens.”

“You’re actually leaving?” My voice rose an octave.

“I accomplished my part of the mission, didn’t I?”

“You can’t go, Risa!” I protested. “Risa? Dammit…Risa!”

The only reply was the crunch of leaves as Risa scurried out of the yard.

“And you call yourself my friend,” I grumbled out loud to the empty room.

I dragged myself to my feet and grabbed my shirt.  I shook it, but no glasses fell out.  I looked around the room in dismay, feeling the weight of the eyeglasses conundrum.  Unless I was wearing them…I couldn’t see to find them.  And of course, if I couldn’t find them…Then I couldn’t be wearing them.

I bent down to peer under the couch and then froze.

“Back for a second date so soon?”

The deep voice, filled with sleepy amusement, came from right above my head.  Too late, I realized that what I’d thought was a pile of pillows was actually a man wrapped in a blanket. 

Shit. Ian.

A strong, slightly rough hand reached out and tucked my mess of hair behind first one ear, then the other.

Startled, I stumbled backward and landed hard on my rear end.  I sat there for a long, near-to-terrified moment.  I couldn’t see more than his outline – dark hair,
intimidating chest width.  And of course his body, which took up the entire length of the couch.

Why isn’t he moving?
I wondered.

It took me several seconds to clue
in to the fact that it probably had something to do with how I looked.  My hands rested on the floor behind me, propping me up.  My feet were planted on the floor, hip distance apart.  And I was dressed in nothing but underwear.