Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“Blood,” Danny says, losing all lightness and switching on the crazy. “Let’s go.”
29
ROSE
* * *
“Yes, Rose,” Alan says. “Of course, Rose.” He smiles when I narrow my eyes in question. “Anything else?”
“Alan,” I sigh. “You keep reassuring me this is going to be finished in a matter of days”—I glance round at the building site—“but I’m struggling to see how.”
“You just leave that to me.” He starts walking toward the exit, and it’s an obvious hint I’ve overstayed my welcome. I remain exactly where I am. “How much is he paying you?” I ask.
He laughs. I’ve seen and heard enough nervous laughs from men since I met The Brit to know one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure,” I murmur, setting my bag on a nearby workbench. And quickly removing it again, dusting it off. “I know my husband can be scary, Alan.”
He coughs.
I smile. “But I can be scarier.” I reach into my bag, and Alan flies back, hands up. I pause. My God, did he think I was about to pull a gun on him? I mean, I have one, but I’m not unreasonable. I slowly pull out my cell, glancing at Beau across the room. She’s casually flicking through a design magazine, her smile poorly restrained. “My son is here, Alan,” I say, pointing to Daniel in the corner, who looks bored out of his mind, scuffing his sneakers across the dusty concrete floor, kicking up plumes of dirt. “But if my son wasn’t here?” I let him ponder that. Poor guy’s caught in the middle—I feel bad for him, of course—but if I’m going to beat my husband, I need to play him at his own game. And unfortunately for Alan, that means using him as a pawn, because if Danny has his way, this spa will never be open and I’ll be at home being nothing but sex and milk on tap. “I know Danny’s been paying you cash.” I smile. “I’m sure the IRS will need some evidence of your earnings and tax liabilities.” One raised brow. “So I’ll transfer you a payment for the works.” I call my bank. “I need to make a payment. It’s Mrs. Black.”
“Oh, how lovely to hear from you. Let me put your through to your personal bank manager.”
“Thanks.” I smile as Alan’s shoulders drop, defeated. “My husband won’t kill you,” I say, my hand over the microphone on my cell. “I promise.”
He laughs—the nervous laugh again—obviously not believing me.
“Trust me, Alan. I know exactly how to handle The Brit.”
“You must be the only one on this planet who does.”
“I am,” I assure him. “Which is why you should definitely make me your best friend, and you know how to achieve that, don’t you, Alan?”
He flashes me a huge, fake smile. “We’ll be out of your hair by Friday.” Clapping his hands, he walks off, throwing orders around to all of the workmen, and I get back to my call, satisfied.
I walk out with Daniel dragging his feet behind me and Beau laughing. “That’s that sorted,” I mutter.
“You’re such a hardball.”
I smile, happy with myself, and take Maggie from Pearl. “Hey, my girl.”
“I think she’s hungry,” Pearl says. “She nearly swallowed my finger whole.”
I look around the street, seeing a café not too far away. “Coffee?” I chirp. “While we still have a little freedom?”
Daniel groans, head dropped back, looking at the sky. “I’m so bored.”
“Zinnea called,” Beau says, giving Daniel’s head a pacifying ruffle. “She wants to meet us.” She goes to the car and opens the trunk, reaching in to get Maggie’s stroller.
“What are you doing?” Tank muscles Beau out of the way on a scowl and pulls it out, putting it together in record time. “You don’t want to use this?” He holds up Maggie’s carrier.
“No, I don’t.” I throw it a dirty look. For Christ’s sake, it weighs more than I do. I lay Maggie down in the stroller and drape a blanket over her. I don’t have a chance to push her though, as Tank takes the handles. “She’s hungry,” I call, preparing him for her scream.
“Her eyes are heavy,” Tank calls back.
Oh? My boobs are grateful. I grab her bag and join Beau, Pearl, and Anya, all four of us watching the Viking wander down the street with Maggie. “He looks so cute,” Anya says on a laugh, prompting the rest of us to turn an interested look her way. She quickly wipes the awe away.
“Why does Zinnea want to meet us?” I ask Beau.
“I don’t know, but I do know she spent the night with Quinton again.”
“Oh my, do you think she’s bringing him?”
“Come on,” Tank yells back, stalling at the crossing with Maggie, looking impatient. Always does when we’re not either in Hiatus, at Byron’s Reach, or in the house.