It’s odd imagining the two of them as friends, let alone best friends. He’ll wear the same t-shirt three times before washing it and she’s got on a pair of those red-bottomed heels I always see the women on Robertson wearing.
“You always dress up on moving day?” I ask, noting the curls in her shiny blonde hair and the coat of dark pink lipstick on her full mouth. I’m not sure if that’s her God-given pout or if she’s the product of some Kylie Jenner fad because it’s impossible to tell in this town these days, but her lips are a work of fucking art, like two pillows shaped like a heart.
“I’m not dressed up.” She peers down at her pointed heels before meeting my gaze. “This isn’t dressed up.”
Maybe where she comes from …
“Ah, I see. So you just wanted to impress me then,” I say.
Melrose’s full, pink mouth shapes into a circle. “For your information, I had an audition today and I’ve spent all day driving all over town. I didn’t have time to change.”
“Nick said you were an actress,” I say. He told me all about her and how he’d known her since they were kids and that her grandma was some award-winning movie star named Gloria Claiborne, which meant fuck-all to me. “But I haven’t seen you in anything.”
I’d remember a face like that.
I’d remember tits like that too.
Her pretty eyes narrow and she squares her shoulders with mine. “Can you please go longer than thirty seconds without underhandedly insulting me?”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” I wrestle a smirk. I don’t even know her but already I know I’m getting under her skin.
“Nick said you were cool,” she says. “He didn’t tell me you have the personality of an overconfident frat boy.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now that’s an insult.” I place my palm across my heart, pretending to be offended. “And can you blame the guy for overselling me? He’s cheaper than dirt. He’d do anything to save a buck. I’m just glad I can finally get that Old Milwaukee piss-water out of my fridge.”
Melrose glances down, like she’s having a hard time comprehending that her lifelong bestie sold her out just to save a few grand. She releases the handle on her suitcase and folds her arms across her chest.
“He wouldn’t put me in this position,” she says. “He wouldn’t ask me to live with someone if he thought we wouldn’t get along.”
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did?” I shrug, like it’s not my problem and it isn’t. “I’ve always gone by the assumption that everybody lies and everybody’s in it for themselves. Life’s much less disappointing that way.”
“I don’t lie.”
“Bullshit,” I cough. “Everybody lies. And if they say they don’t, they’re lying.”
“I disagree but okay.” She rolls her eyes at me and blows a breath between her lips. My gaze lingers on her distracting bee stung pout once more. Everything about her exterior is flawless—from her creamy complexion and curled lashes to her shiny blonde waves and tight little ass, and if I’ve learned anything in my ripe old age of twenty-eight, it’s that perfect on the outside almost always equates to ugly, crazy, and dysfunctional on the inside.
I should know.
My last ex was the same way, just took a bit longer to crack through her ironclad veneer to get to the core of who she really was: an insecure, superficial Bel Air princess parading around like some vegan philanthropist with an organic vagina.
“Do you always have a giant stick up your ass or did I catch you on an off day?” I ask, genuinely curious but fully prepared not to give a fuck either way.
“What are doing?” Her brows meet and her dog paws at her leg. Clearly, he’s over this conversation. “Are you testing my limits? Trying to feel me out? See how far you can push me before I push back?”
Close … but not quite.
“I think I did the same thing once … when I was a toddler,” she adds.
“Ouch.” I head to the stairs, feigning an emotional wound. “You done now? Can I go take my shower?”
“Just because I’m nice, doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I read people, Sutter. And I can read you. I know exactly what you’re trying to do and I highly advise you to stop.”
I rub my hand across my chest, chuckling. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
Melrose’s lips press into a hard line. “Nope. Just telling you to knock it off.”
“Knock what off? Exact?”
“Whatever it is you’re trying to do,” she says. “Because I can promise you, it’s not going to work on me. I have thick skin and patience for days.”
I’m beginning to wonder if I underestimated her. All this time, I assumed she’d be some typical Brentwood Basic Bitch with zero personality, sky high ambition, and dungeon-level self-esteem.
But … now I’m thinking there might be more to her than meets the eye.
“So …” Her manicured brows rise and she steps toward me, squaring her body with mine, her posture mirroring the confidence of a queen. “How about we start over?”
“What?”
Extending her right hand, a slow smile claims her pretty face. “Hi, Sutter. I’m Melrose, your new roommate. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”
I don’t know if she’s trolling me or if she genuinely wants to start over—she could be acting for all I know, but I don’t think that’s how this works.
Regardless, I play along. I refuse to be bested at a game I personally started.
“Melrose, so lovely to meet you. Nicholas thinks the world of you. I’m sure I’ll adore you just the same,” I say in an over-the-top, saccharin sweet voice as I meet her hand with mine.
Two can play this game.
“Much better.” She exhales as if she’s partially satisfied before reaching toward a luggage handle.
I fully expected to meet a princess today, a junior Paris Hilton with an entitlement complex. What I got was a whip smart beauty who wasted no time putting me in my place.
And that’s … if I’m being completely honest with myself … really fucking hot.
Acknowledgments For War And Love
This book would not have been possible if it weren’t for the help of these amazing individuals. In no particular order …
Louisa, the cover is beautiful! Thank you for never getting frustrated with me when I change my mind months after you’ve already sent me everything … your patience and understanding is a godsend.
Ashley, thank you for beta reading, as always. I couldn’t do this without you.
K, C, and M—hoes for life!
Wendy, thank you for being so easy to work with.
Neda, Rachel, and Liz, thank you for ALL the behind-the-scenes stuff you do. Your service is invaluable and you are a joy to work with!
Last, but not least, thank you to all the readers and bloggers and authors who share my releases, write reviews, or send sweet messages of encouragement. It’s because of you that I get to live my dream, and I’m forever grateful for that.
Also by Winter Renshaw
CLICK HERE FOR BOOKS BY WINTER RENSHAW
The Never Series
Never Kiss a Stranger
Never Is a Promise
Never Say Never
Bitter Rivals: a novella
The Arrogant Series: Arrogant Bastard
Arrogant Master
Arrogant Playboy
The Rixton Falls Series
Royal
Bachelor
Filthy
Priceless (an Amato Brothers crossover)
The Amato Brothers Series: Heartless
Reckless
Priceless
The Montgomery Brothers Duet
Dark Paradise
Dark Promises
Standalones
Vegas Baby
Cold Hearted
The Perfect Illusion
Country Nights
Absinthe
The Rebound
P.S. I Hate You
About the Author
Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra-portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American Dream with her husband, three kids, the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi, and her ankle biting pug pup.
Winter also writes psychological suspense under the pseudonym, Minka Kent. Her first book, THE MEMORY WATCHER, has been optioned by NBC Universal.
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