Up in Flames (Rosemary Beach 13)

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe a word I was saying. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered.

I was done with him calling me a bitch in my own house. If he wanted to call me a bitch, then by all means, he could do it, but for God’s sake, not in my house. Did the boy have no manners at all? “Call me a bitch to my face one more time in my house, and I’ll slam a fucking frying pan over your head and smash your perfect nose,” I warned him, with a calm, bored voice. Then took another bite of my yogurt, because it was delicious.

He opened his mouth, and I cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say that I wasn’t kidding. He glanced up to a corner of the kitchen, shook his head, and walked away.

I waited until the front door closed behind him and let out the breath I was holding. “Thank God his ass is gone. Jesus, that was exhausting. I need another yogurt.”

Cope

Thank God his ass is gone. Jesus, that was exhausting. I need another yogurt.

There were things we could do with that yogurt she seemed to love so fucking much. The grin she brought to my lips wasn’t foreign anymore. She’d made me smile so damn much lately that I expected it. Savored it.

She didn’t go back for another yogurt, though. She debated a moment while looking into the fridge, then turned and went to put on her running clothes. The tight little shorts she wore was my favorite article of clothing she owned.

I’d slap her for this later. Maybe wrap my hands around her neck and gently squeeze. She was teasing me and anyone else who saw her with her body. Made me feel violent, yet I wanted her at the same time.

My phone vibrated, and it was Major. I ignored him. He knew I could see the stupid move he’d just made. He had gone against orders. I could send a text, and within seconds, his phone would be cut off. He’d be ordered to evacuate the apartment he was living in immediately. And I’d be gone. He wouldn’t be able to find me.

Major wouldn’t be continuing his work with us. He’d made the wrong choice. However, he’d live. At least, if DeCarlo said he would. If DeCarlo ordered a hit on him, I couldn’t stop that.

He was never cut out for this world. Captain had been wrong. But then, Captain hadn’t really been cut from my cloth, either. He had been on a train for revenge. Or vengeance, as he called it. Me, I just liked the kill. The feel of control and knowing that I was righting a wrong.

Nan walked out of her house, and I knew it was time to start the new plan. Major was out, and Gannon was back in. Because Nan loved what Gannon gave her, and he’d be able to tease out the info from her without the drama Major came with.

Tonight Gannon would call her a bitch during their sleepy sex session. See if she used that sass on him. God, I hoped she did.

Nan

Apart of me worried that Major was stupid enough to show up on this run. But when I’d finished my seventh mile without seeing him, I felt confident that he was finally gone. Now to keep myself from going home and locking myself in a dark room to sleep in hopes of another dream. That would officially make me a psycho. I wasn’t going there just yet.

I could go to Vegas.

If I really wanted to . . . I could just go.

There was a good chance I wouldn’t find him again, but his pregnant whatever-she-was worked there. She’d been wearing a showgirl costume. I could at least find her. She might punch me, and I wouldn’t be able to hit her back, because she was pregnant and that’s just wrong.

Listen to me. She was pregnant with his child and I was considering going to find the man. I was crazy. He needed to be focusing on the woman he had knocked up. I wasn’t her.

My hand went to my stomach automatically, and I felt an ache there because that was true. I wasn’t pregnant with his child and never would be. She’d have a connection to him that I’d never have.

God, I was a wreck.

“Good morning, Nan.” Blaire’s Southern drawl caught me by surprise, and I looked up to see her walking toward me from her car. She had a plate of what looked like cookies in one hand and was holding Nate’s hand with the other.

“Aunt Nan!” He let go of his mother to run toward me. “Me and Momma made you cookies. Oatmeal ones with ganic flour and raisins. They’re good for you, and they taste yummy. Must be the ganic.”

Blaire chuckled. “He means organic.”

I smiled, pulling him to me. I had gathered as much. I was good at speaking Nate’s language. But I didn’t tell Blaire that. It would sound rude, and she had brought me Nate and made me cookies.

“Thank you very much. I love ganic cookies,” I told him, and kissed his little head. Then I lifted my gaze to Blaire. “I was in need of cookies and Nate today. Thank you.”

She smiled and nodded. “Rush mentioned you might need some company. We thought we’d make you a treat to bring.”

Her stomach was in the perfect shape of a basketball on her tiny frame. She was careful to eat only healthy, nonprocessed foods and feed the same to Nate. Even Rush had given in and begun eating healthier. I needed to tell her about my yogurt. She’d love that.

“I even have some almond milk in the fridge that would taste delicious with these cookies. I need a snack after my run. Want to share one with me?” I asked Nate.

He looked torn for a minute, then leaned into me. “Could we both get our own? I like a whole cookie.”

Laughing, I stood up and took his hand. “Yes, we can. I need to splurge. A whole cookie it is.”

“Yay!” he cheered, and held on to my hand tightly. We followed Blaire and the plate of cookies inside the house.