He yanked his sandwich back and made a production of taking a huge bite. His narrowed eyes were on me, anger oozing from his pores. I didn’t care. I could take it, and I knew most of that anger wasn’t about me anyway. “There are days I’d like to kick your ass back to Ohio.”
“There are days I’d like you to shut the fuck up. Wish in one hand…” I played a tickle game with Ame. Poking my finger into the belly of her pink frilly dress and accompanying it with a squeak like she was the Pillsbury Dough Boy. It made her laugh every time. “Why does your mommy insist on dressing you like this?”
“It’s Heather’s doing. She did the same damn thing to Jenny. Dressed her up like a china doll from the day she came home from the hospital.”
A rare, sweet memory of my niece surfaced. “I remember. She was in pink lace and ruffles until she turned ten and finally learned to put her foot down.”
“I wish she’d learn to pick it back up once in a while.” Warren sighed. “My daughter’s head is not on right.”
No disagreement from me. When her family needed her most—her parents and her nine-month-old daughter—she was so wrapped up in her own selfishness that not only was she not a help, she was a hindrance. She treated her ailing father like a burden and hurled a disrespectful attitude at her mother and at everyone else within her immediate vicinity.
My temper began to spike just thinking about it, and I looked for a way to diffuse it. “Want to see if there’s a game on TV?”
Warren laughed, the sound so rare these days that it was sweeter to my ears than a Beethoven concerto. “Hell, yeah. You’re finally becoming tolerable to have around. Thought the day would never come.”
I waited until he swallowed another bite of his sandwich before I handed Ame to him. Weariness and stress showed in his eyes. Warren was in no shape to take on the responsibilities of being a dad to a youngster again. He needed to focus his strength and energy on himself and his health. Heather needed to focus hers on her mate—and herself. Jenny was going to get a piece of my mind when I caught up to her.
“Well? You comin’, old man?” I grabbed the handles of his chair and wheeled him, with Ame on his lap, to the living room. “I think the octogenarians at the old folks’ home move faster than you.”
“What’s the big rush, bow-wow? In a hurry to chase your tail, or can’t wait to lick your testicles?”
3
Mel
The bell over the door rang as I entered the B&B. A young man in his late teens sitting behind the front desk offered me a friendly smile.
“Welcome to Rise and Shine Bed and Breakfast. I’m Jacob. You must be…” He scanned the computer screen in front of him. “Miss Melody Cameron.”
“Call me Mel. Nice to meet you, Jacob.”
He reached out and I slipped my hand in his for a quick shake before he stood and rounded the desk. “We’ve already got all your information, so I’ll just show you to your room. Mom put you in the Swan Suite. It’s our honeymoon suite, but when she heard that you’re performing at the Richardson-Bennett wedding, she wanted to spoil you. They’re personal friends.”
He led me down a hallway and through a set of swinging doors. “It’s pretty sweet, excuse the pun. There’s a private patio leading out onto the beach, with a jacuzzi.”
My hand flew to my heart. “Your mom is an angel from heaven.”
He snorted. “Demon from hell, maybe, but only on a good day.” Then he looked back at me with wide eyes. “Don’t tell her I said that. It was a joke.”
I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Secret’s safe with me.”
Jacob showed me around the suite that had a spectacular view of the water.
“Well, have a pleasant stay. Breakfast is served from 6:30 to 11:00 every morning, and you’ll see Marvin shuffling around here and there. He’ll help with anything else you might need.”
Jacob paused at the door, looked over his shoulder, and winked. “Or you could ring me, since he’s like two hundred years old and I’m always available.”
Flirt.
My phone rang right as I finished unpacking my small valise.
“Hi, Ingrid. Yes, I made it safely.”
“Hello, love. Pleased to hear it. I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I’m so sorry your boyfriend is a gnarled pecker. I know as your supportive best friend, I’m not supposed to tell you that, and I do apologize, but in the interest of brutal honesty, he is a gnarly, deformed, gonorrhea-riddled, puss-dripping knob.”
My teeth sank into my lip to keep from laughing. Ingrid was never subtle about her feelings concerning Adam, or anything else for that matter, and her British accent always seemed to add to her already humorous outlook.
“What did he do this time?”
“Besides glaring at me as though I was the doggy doo-doo he stepped in? Well, there was the bandying about of loud comments regarding our band’s ineptitude and our clumsy, amateurish execution. So, basically he belittled everything joyful and worthwhile about our existence.”
“Oh, Ingrid. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault he’s a pecker head, but why are you with him, again?”
I let out a tired sigh. “Don’t start. You know I hate the thought of getting old all alone.”
“Bloody hell, Mel, where do you think I’ll be as you grow old?”
“Probably busy with your future husband and future family?”
“Bollocks. I’ll be right beside you. We’re a team.”
“Where are you, by the way?”
“In the loo. I told Rita I needed to poo.”
This time I couldn’t contain my sharp burst of laughter. “What if they hear you talking?”
“What if they don’t and I’m stuck at this job for the rest of my
