Holly head Slopes

Chapter Eighteen

ABI'S POV

The Hughes house felt like a hotel in the morning. We all queued around the kitchen island, plates in hand and ready to devour the elaborate breakfast Grandma had cooked at the crack of dawn.

"So, how was Mason last night?" Jordan asked me. My tired eyes jolted open like I had been electrocuted. I wondered why he was so perky this morning; he knew about my secret visitor.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I defended. My cousin could read me like a book, and there was no chance I would be wiggling out of this. "Fine." I sighed. "How did you know?"

"The fresh tracks in the snow." I narrowed my eyes at his observation. Jordan has a high IQ, but it seemed a reach that he would figure out it was Dugray. "Oh, and his wallet. The man has a black card, you better not screw this up. Marrying rich may be your only option." He said, with the audacity to pinch my cheek.

I slapped his hand away, brimming with frustration. "Jordan, you shouldn't go through his wallet. That's a complete invasion of privacy."

"It was on the driveway. I was only checking the ID to return it." His explanation was responsible; I would have done the same thing. "The five hundred in cash was a bonus finding fee." He laughed, waving the black leather wallet around. I snatched it from his grip, almost dropping Grandma's pastel-coloured plate in the process.

"Hey!" Auntie Rose shouted. "Do you two need plastic plates, too?" She sternly asked, referring to the twins matching plastic Christmas plates. Jordan and I looked down like naughty five-year-olds and continued to wait patiently to stuff our faces like we hadn't eaten in days.

***

How many times is it acceptable to ring a hook-up that night after spontaneous secret sex?

I cut myself off at four. I was the one who wanted something casual, and yet I was on my way to Dugray's party house in an attempt to return his wallet.

The house was weird in the daylight. It blended with the rest of the street, but the lingering memories of drunk young skiers and crashed parties made it unique.

I wasn't easily intimidated, but standing on my own, building up the courage to knock on the ridiculously big front door, I suddenly felt like the smallest person in the world. Thankfully, before I knocked, the door abruptly opened.

"State the purpose of your presence." One of the men I recognised from the front lawn standing with the police said to me. He had a goofy manner about it, which made me crack a smile.

"I'm here to return Mason's wallet," I told him, flashing him the wallet.

"Oh, I'll take that." He smirked, lunging to steal it from my grip.

"Not so fast." I grinned, impressing myself with my quick reaction. "I get the impression Dugray would be pissed if it got into the wrong hands. Is there a grown-up around?"

He narrowed his eyes at me and broke his act. His chuckle made my nerves dissolve.

"Clay, it's rude not to invite guests in. Who raised you?" Another man said.

"Well, not a fancy European Nanny like some," Clay replied sarcastically before moving from the door and allowing me in.

"Oh man, you're Abigail. Does Mason know you're here?" The well-put-together one asked. He was dressed head to toe in designer clothing, and you could almost smell his wealth.

"It's just Abi, actually. And no, he doesn't, but he didn't pick up his phone, and he left this behind." I said, waving his wallet but quickly moving it away from Clay as he tried to grab it again.