Still Beating Jennifer Hartmann

Chapter Fifteen

O N E   Y E A R   E A R L I E R

"You're probably going to think I'm a weirdo, but I sorta got you a Christmas present."

My brow furrows in confusion, my eyes glazing over with equal parts curiosity and spiked eggnog. Then I feel like a giant dick because I didn't get her anything. Cora and I have never exchanged gifts before—well, except for that one year I gave her a vibrator shaped like Santa Clause that said, 'Ho, Ho, Ho' as it vibrated. She, in turn, gifted me with a sharp punch to the shoulder. "Shit, Corabelle. I didn't get you anything."

Cora sits on the couch, one bronzed leg draped over the other as a champagne flute dangles from her hand. I'm sitting across from her on the floor, leaning back on my hands. The sequins of her red cocktail dress sparkle against the Christmas lights, a festive compliment to her bright, green eyes.

It's honestly annoying how pretty she looks.

"It's probably for the best that you didn't."

I'm certain we're both thinking about the Santa vibrator when a rosy blush kisses her cheeks.

I shoot her a sly grin. "Well, hand it over. Is it a car? Tell me it's a car."

Mandy shoves her pointy fingernail into my arm. "Why would Cora get you a car?"

"Because she loves me."

"Ew." Cora sets her champagne down on the coffee table in front of her, bending over just enough to reveal a dangerous amount of cleavage. I look away. "Only you would confuse love and hate. I'm sure it's very complicated for your itty-bitty pea brain to keep straight."

"You two are ridiculous," Mandy mutters through a slow breath. "I need more brownies."

Mandy stands up on her wobbly heels, and I can't help but wonder why she's been wearing stilettos all night in her parent's living room. She disappears into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the more aggravating sister.

Not that I mind. Sparring with Cora Lawson is pretty high on my list of preferred activities.

She thinks I'm an idiot, and I let her think it. I get a rise out of the incredulous look in her eyes when I say or do something stupid. It's part of our game.

"Whatever, Corabelle. Show me what you got."

"Don't call me that." Cora delivers her classic, irritated glare, then leans over the armrest of the couch to retrieve a gift hiding underneath the tree. "Catch."

She tosses me the present wrapped in colorful twinkle lights, and I catch it with skillful ease, winking at her as I start to open it. "You're pretty good at wrapping. Did you take a class on it?"

Another glare.

I continue to peel back the paper and discover a book. I'm not a reader—I prefer podcasts and audiobooks. But I suppose it's the thought that counts.

"Of Mice and Men," Cora states, reaching for the spine of her wine glass and bringing the rim to her lips. "It was required in sophomore English class, but I think it's safe to assume you never read it. It's a good one."

I purse my lips together. She's right about that. I never read it. "Well, thanks. That's actually kind of nice of..." My voice trails off as I start flipping through the pages.

They're all blank.

Every single one of them.

My head snaps up and I twist the book around, feeling bad that she ordered a defective one. "Uh, slight issue," I tell her.

Cora sits up straight, blinking slow. She stares at me in what looks to be utter confusion before replying, "Crap. I didn't think you'd notice."

Ah, hell.