Read Online You Dropped a Blonde on Me by Dakota Cassidy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dakota Cassidy
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immaculately, his black suit with the sharp creases in the pants and bright red tie made her cringe at her own appearance. Like wearing a Dior original would make her any less of a candy-ass anyway.
Jake gifted Finley with the same low growl he’d given her. Campbell gave his leash another firm tug, placing a palm at his snout to quiet him. His next move was subtle, but meant for visibility, when he placed his free hand at Maxine’s waist.
“I’m here to see my son. I figure if you’re going to prevent him from seeing me, then I’ll just come see him.”
Right. In all this time it had been the scary Maxine who’d kept him from Connor. It was always someone else’s fault Fin wasn’t getting what he wanted. When he’d stuck his shank of love up any available vajajay, it was her fault. She wasn’t attentive enough. She didn’t make him feel like he was a man enough. Her thighs were too jiggly. There was never any owning up with Finley. Maxine’s cheeks flushed in indignation. Yet, her protest to his false accusation came out weak and downright sissified. “I did not—”
Finley held up a hand to quiet her, the twenty-four-carat gold of his pinky ring flashing its brilliance. Just another of the many baubles he used to show off his financial stature. There was nothing he loved more than flaunting his goodies. But the thin line of his lips still had the bloody power to make her wince. “I’m not up to your bullshit today, Maxine. Just tell me where your mother’s house is and I’ll go find him myself.”
Campbell rolled his tongue in his cheek, taking a step closer to her ex-husband. “You don’t know where your own kid’s been living?”
“Leave Connor alone, Finley,” she crowed, summoning the will to defy him on her son’s behalf. He could manipulate her all he wanted, but the fuck she’d let him beat Connor down, too. “He’s obviously not ready to see you.”
Finley’s cheeks grew sharply pronounced when his mouth puckered. Oh, she knew that look. It was the “You’re pushing my buttons, Maxine” look, and it immediately made her rethink her words. “He’s not ready because you won’t let him be ready. You’ve brainwashed the shit out of him, you and that crazy mother of yours. Now where’s your mother’s house? You can’t keep him from me, Maxine. I have a right to see him.”
She caught the questioning glance Campbell shot her. The one that said, “Why don’t you pony up and defend yourself, chicken-shit?” But her throat was thick, her tongue sluggish, and her functioning brain matter uncooperative. “Talk to the judge, Finley,” she said, meaning for it to sound like a demand, but it turned out to be nothing more than a pathetic order.
And Finley was all over that shit like fried on chicken. He fed off the power he’d convinced her he had. The only thing that had changed in eight months was that she was no longer going to be married to him. Pitiful. “I’d be very careful if I were you, Maxine. You can’t afford to lose anything else.” The narrowed slant of his eyes, the imposing feel to his stance, the twisted confidence in knowing he held all the cards, infuriated her. Yet the gurgling bubble of anger she so wanted to nurture just wouldn’t pop.
However, Campbell didn’t seem to feel the same way. He wasn’t at all intimidated. Of course, he hadn’t lost his cute shoes and a place to live either. His posture was rigid, hovering a good three inches over Finley when he placed himself between them. “I think you’d better cool it, pal, and lay off the threats.” Campbell’s angular face was tense, his jaw muscles working overtime. The tight clench of his square fist around Jake’s leash flexed with a twitch.
“And who the fuck are you?” was her soon to be ex-husband’s arrogant question. His shoulders squared, and his wide chest puffed out like he was looking for a good throwdown.
Hoo boy. Finley felt threatened. No one threatened Finley Cambridge.
Jake gifted Finley with the same low growl he’d given her. Campbell gave his leash another firm tug, placing a palm at his snout to quiet him. His next move was subtle, but meant for visibility, when he placed his free hand at Maxine’s waist.
“I’m here to see my son. I figure if you’re going to prevent him from seeing me, then I’ll just come see him.”
Right. In all this time it had been the scary Maxine who’d kept him from Connor. It was always someone else’s fault Fin wasn’t getting what he wanted. When he’d stuck his shank of love up any available vajajay, it was her fault. She wasn’t attentive enough. She didn’t make him feel like he was a man enough. Her thighs were too jiggly. There was never any owning up with Finley. Maxine’s cheeks flushed in indignation. Yet, her protest to his false accusation came out weak and downright sissified. “I did not—”
Finley held up a hand to quiet her, the twenty-four-carat gold of his pinky ring flashing its brilliance. Just another of the many baubles he used to show off his financial stature. There was nothing he loved more than flaunting his goodies. But the thin line of his lips still had the bloody power to make her wince. “I’m not up to your bullshit today, Maxine. Just tell me where your mother’s house is and I’ll go find him myself.”
Campbell rolled his tongue in his cheek, taking a step closer to her ex-husband. “You don’t know where your own kid’s been living?”
“Leave Connor alone, Finley,” she crowed, summoning the will to defy him on her son’s behalf. He could manipulate her all he wanted, but the fuck she’d let him beat Connor down, too. “He’s obviously not ready to see you.”
Finley’s cheeks grew sharply pronounced when his mouth puckered. Oh, she knew that look. It was the “You’re pushing my buttons, Maxine” look, and it immediately made her rethink her words. “He’s not ready because you won’t let him be ready. You’ve brainwashed the shit out of him, you and that crazy mother of yours. Now where’s your mother’s house? You can’t keep him from me, Maxine. I have a right to see him.”
She caught the questioning glance Campbell shot her. The one that said, “Why don’t you pony up and defend yourself, chicken-shit?” But her throat was thick, her tongue sluggish, and her functioning brain matter uncooperative. “Talk to the judge, Finley,” she said, meaning for it to sound like a demand, but it turned out to be nothing more than a pathetic order.
And Finley was all over that shit like fried on chicken. He fed off the power he’d convinced her he had. The only thing that had changed in eight months was that she was no longer going to be married to him. Pitiful. “I’d be very careful if I were you, Maxine. You can’t afford to lose anything else.” The narrowed slant of his eyes, the imposing feel to his stance, the twisted confidence in knowing he held all the cards, infuriated her. Yet the gurgling bubble of anger she so wanted to nurture just wouldn’t pop.
However, Campbell didn’t seem to feel the same way. He wasn’t at all intimidated. Of course, he hadn’t lost his cute shoes and a place to live either. His posture was rigid, hovering a good three inches over Finley when he placed himself between them. “I think you’d better cool it, pal, and lay off the threats.” Campbell’s angular face was tense, his jaw muscles working overtime. The tight clench of his square fist around Jake’s leash flexed with a twitch.
“And who the fuck are you?” was her soon to be ex-husband’s arrogant question. His shoulders squared, and his wide chest puffed out like he was looking for a good throwdown.
Hoo boy. Finley felt threatened. No one threatened Finley Cambridge.
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