Page 34 of Building What's Meant to Be

“I’m on a man-cation!” I say loudly and as if to remind myself.

Mae was sipping water and snorts through her nose with laughter.

“I’m not worried about these two making eyes. No, it’s something else.” Rhondy must’ve caught the look her son and Aiden exchanged because she looks them over carefully. “I’ve known you a long time, Aiden. Something doesn’t add up.”

“No, it doesn’t, Rhondy,” Aiden confirms.

She cuts her gaze slightly. “You have a look in your eye. Like if you told me the full story, you’d have to kill me.”

The corner of his lip lifts in a friendly smile. “That’s why I won’t tell you.”

Briefly, I think about the small-town drama versus real-life drama and not the kind in movies, shows, or the superficial he-said-she-said stuff I was involved in. Looking back on all the gossip I was part of makes me feel small, like a crumb left on a plate.

Aiden shifts in his seat, brushing against me. He somehow takes up a lot of space...and oxygen. It’s like he has his own orbital system and I’ve been pulled in—I played an alien once in a movie and our ship got sucked into another galaxy, resulting in the lady aliens having to marry the Zingots who were extremely handsome lifeforms on the nearest planet.

“We’re in this together. I have a place for you to stay.” Aiden claps his hand on my thigh and then draws it quickly back as if he touched a hot stove burner.

I glance down at the spot where his hand was, expecting there to be a mark, a sign, a scorch. Something. But it’s my normal, smooth, tan thanks to my routine use of tinted moisturizer. However, nothing about the way this man makes me feel under my skin is normal. My belly swoops and my very bones feel electric.

It takes a long moment for me to comprehend what he said and when I do, I have a cautionary case of déjà vu. Last time someone offered me a place to stay a bunch of men in black woke me up from a diva dream. But what other choice do I have?

“Seeing as I’m stuck here and don’t plan to stay longer than necessary, that’s probably the best option. Thanks.”

Our eyes meet then dart just as quickly away.

I’m somewhat relieved not to be sleeping on a park bench, but it’s not like I have any other options. Hopefully, while I sleep,Mae won’t come at me with Murder Doll or whatever Aiden was talking about earlier.

Or maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and this will all be a long, strange dream.

Chapter Eight

AIDEN

Several warning signals flash in my periphery—Stoll’s whereabouts, Cassian and Rhondy giving me long looks, and my offer for Tinsley to stay with me.

The case should take priority, so I tell myself that keeping Tinsley, a potential asset, close could prove helpful.

As for Cassian and Rhondy, he’s former military and has the discipline to keep quiet. I’d trust her with my life, and that’s saying something. I don’t think there’s a person in Butterbury that would disagree, but she’s part, if not all, angel.

New baby? She’ll bring the family food.

Someone sick? She’ll bring food.

Loved one pass away? She’ll bring the bereaved food.

She also checks on locals, gets their mail, drives people to appointments, and generally helps out on top of making the best biscuits and pie in the world. Oh, and she’s a prayer warrior. I’ve seen enough in my profession to know that it works.

I could use one right about now.

Somehow, I’ll fix this mess. I always do. In the meantime, I like to have options, and having Tinsley nearby keeps a channel open to Harold Jerrold Pumanowksi.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

The silence at the table is somewhat surprising given Bess’s gift of gab, but also awkward because Mae wears what we call a resting brat face. As the youngest, she’d sometimes get upset if she didn’t get her way. This is one of those times, but I’m not sure what she wants.

Revenge? Blood? Tinsley’s first born?

Even though Tinsley apologized to my sisters, she doesn’t know that she’s a frog in a pot and the ladybosses control the heat.

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