Read Crazy Love for Free Online Page B

know-it-all Yankee, she didn’t deserve to drown wearing Trip’s designer cement shoes.
    As the waiter removed our plates, Annabelle turned to Trip. Determination shone in her dazzling eyes, and her full lips curved in an impish grin.
    “Alright, I’ll do it.” A light, musical laugh erupted from her that nearly shattered me.
    “Do what?” Trip wiped his mouth with his napkin, and I could tell by the lascivious twinkle in his eyes he had a good idea what she meant.
    “I’ll pose for you.” When Trip chuckled devilishly, she held up her hands, blushing. “On one condition. I’m wearing my bra and panties. Take it or leave it.”
    The image of her in a bra and panties just about made me spit my drink all over the table. Focused completely on each other, neither of my companions noticed. Trip let the silence hang in the air just long enough for dramatic effect. “Fair enough.”
    I was racked with sudden indigestion.
    I chose to blame the vodka tonic.
    As the heinous luncheon came to a close, I tried to make a break for it, but Trip guilted me into coming along to his new place to help carry in his purchases. Tension constricted every muscle in my neck and shoulders caused partly by their incessant flirting as Annabelle drove us past lush Forsythe Park, skirting the edge of the Victorian District. I could tell by the subtle expressions Trip wore when he looked at her that he had a soft spot for Annie. Bad blood or not, he was my only brother, so this placed her immediately in the “off limits” category. Though by now it was obvious I wasn’t her type, I still found myself disappointed.
    A block later, we pulled up alongside the curb of an immaculate Victorian. I couldn’t help but notice this address was still within stumbling distance of Violet’s place. My mood lifted a little. I covered a smirk with my hand, taking odd comfort in the fact that some things never changed.
    As we entered Trip’s condo, I fought to contain my surprise. The home had been painstakingly remodeled with impressive crown molding, meticulously restored hardwoods, and modern light fixtures. As we passed by the kitchen, I noticed a new butcher-block island and stainless steel appliances. Other than scattered charcoal pencils, sketch pads, and other various artistic accoutrements, the place was tidy and lacked the frat house feel of his previous bachelor pads.
    “This place is amazing,” Annabelle gasped, moving toward the ornate fireplace for a closer look at a painting of Trip’s daughter, Maisie. It was a fine piece, much more of a literal interpretation than his usual work and understandably deserved this place of prominence in his home.
    Trip shrugged and looked pleased by her response. “I like it. Lots of natural light.”
    I could feel him looking at me, as if he were expecting some sort of reaction. I refused to look in his direction.
    “Any trouble with the neighbors?” It came out before I could stop myself. Though I knew my attitude would lead nowhere good, I found myself back in the role of the bitter nonbeliever. Annabelle’s fiery eyes bore into me.
    “No, I own it. I live in the front half and use the back half as a studio and storage,” Trip responded, and at that, not only did I look at him, I gaped. He’d finally invested in real estate after a couple of years deluding himself that he’d reconcile with Violet. I was more astonished by this revelation than the sobriety chip, and doubt began to gnaw at me. It had been eons since I’d dared to hope my brother would climb out of the bottle. I honestly never thought we’d find ourselves having a sensible conversation about owning property and natural light. Wondering why Mama hadn’t told me about Trip’s journey of self-help, I crossed to the windows and admired the impressive view.
    As I puzzled over whether my brother was actually clean and sober, I heard Trip mutter something about being a bad host and leaving the room. I felt Annie next to me before I