“Can’t we do it now?”
She’s determined, and I appreciate that. Amanda never wants to be a victim again. “Let’s try. I have an idea. I need to make a phone call.”
“Thank you.”
While she hustles away to find her purse and shoes, I pull out the card Griff gave me earlier—it tells me he’s a Realtor—and give him a call. He and Britta are happy to help out, and their boys should both be awake in an hour.
When Amanda returns to the kitchen, I fill her in, then raid the last of Masey’s leftovers in the refrigerator. As I put my plate in the dishwasher, Oliver stars howling from the other side of the house.
“He shouldn’t already be awake. Ugh, his sleep schedule is so off,” she groans as she jogs down the hall.
A minute later, she returns, carrying a plastic bag with a presumably wet diaper in one hand, while trying to balance the big hunk of boy against her chest with the other.
“I’ll take him.” I hurry to help her.
“Really? Thanks.”
I ruffle Oliver’s hair, and she smiles wistfully. “Barclay never held him, you know. Not once. For all the promises he made me and all the times he told me I was his world, when life got real his only priority was himself.”
“If Reed wasn’t already dead, I’d throttle him for the sheer joy of seeing the selfish bastard die.” It’s also too bad that the guy who offed Reed isn’t still alive. I’d like to shake his hand.
Amanda blinks at me as if I’ve stunned her.
“Sorry, but I can’t mourn a guy who took advantage of you, lied to you, then turned his back on you when it mattered most.”
She shakes her head. “By then, I didn’t mourn, either. Once Barclay walked away from me, I saw exactly the man he was—a terrible partner and father, not to mention a thief. If you had been first in line to kill him, I might have shoved you out of the way so I could do the honors. The world is better off without him.”
Every time I think Amanda is soft and sweet, if a little mysterious, she completely blindsides me. She’s tough when it counts. How else could she have fought off an intruder with a knife? How else has she endured months of a mob hunting her down?
I know I shouldn’t touch her, but I can’t resist. “I’ve never met a woman who’s surprised me more. You intrigue the hell out of me, Mandy.”
“No one has ever called me that. I kind of like it.” She sends me another one of her Mona-Lisa smiles as she slips her purse onto her shoulder and we leave.
A few minutes later, we arrive at Griff and Britta’s. The place is cottage-style and beachfront. The exterior looks charming. Then Britta opens the door to reveal a gorgeous interior, the back a solid wall of floor-to-ceiling glass doors that open to an expansive lanai overlooking the Pacific that would make most Mainlanders weep for their slice of paradise.
Inside, Griff is bouncing Jamie on his knee, while Britta, his pretty blond wife, invites us in, then follows behind, cuddling their infant.
“Forgive us. We only moved in a few months ago, and with the new baby, we haven’t finished unpacking the last of the boxes.”
Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed. I was stuck on the sick ocean views.
“Angel, it’s fine. Don’t worry. They’re here so Oliver can play with the boys, not to judge our organizational skills.”
“I know, but I meant to be done by now, and I thought I’d have a chance to finish after Grayson was born, but…”
“One day at a time,” Griff soothes her. “The morning sickness will go away eventually, then you can spend the last two trimesters ‘nesting.’”
“You’re pregnant again?” Amanda asks. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks. We found out earlier this week. We’re going to tell the family tonight. It came sooner than we expected…” She sends Griff a scolding glance.
He sets Jamie aside with a ruffle of his hair, then saunters over to his wife and palms her belly. “I’m not sorry. I missed everything with Jamie. Seems like Gray arrived in a blink. Besides”—he kisses her forehead—“I love making babies with you.”
She swats his arm, but she’s trying to suppress a grin. “TMI. We have guests.”
They have what I want. Funny how just this morning I was convinced that I’d put away all thoughts of marriage and babies and happily ever after. The truth isn’t that I didn’t want them anymore; I just didn’t want them with Ellie.
I have a weird feeling things could be completely different with Amanda.
“I’m pretty sure they know where babies come from,” Griff says in a stage whisper.
“You’re incorrigible.” She rolls her eyes, but I see her lurking smile before she turns back to us. “Can I get you two anything?”
“No, thanks,” I say. “If we’re going to get in some good practice rounds, we need to head out.”
“We’re here until six-thirty, so—”
“We’ll be back way before then,” Amanda promises, then hands Griff Oliver’s diaper bag and jots down her number. “Call me if you need anything.”
“You got it,” Griff assures as he encourages Jamie—who’s a big boy of not quite four—to play nicely with Oliver.
Then Amanda hugs her son before we hop back into the Mustang and head out to the nearest shooting range. “I’m going to rent you a collection of handguns to see what you like best.”
“The smaller the better.”
“Not necessarily,” I tell her as I surge through a green light. “If someone breaks into your house with the intent to kill you, you need to put him down. Some small guns will only piss off an intruder. Smaller guns also have more kickback, meaning as soon as you pull the trigger they’re harder to control, so the bullet won’t necessarily go
