Page 16 of S.O.S. Billboard

Mizzay pushed off the table and stood tall at every one of her five feet. “Then that’s something you have to fix. Do you have O’Shea’s numbah?”

BB shook his head. “No.”

“Well, I do. And I think yah next move is to call her and tell her you’ll pick her up at her hotel and bring her to dinnah.”

“But Brigid’s with—”

“Brigid’s about to get a call from Sarge, saying he stubbed his toe and needs her right away.”

“Stubbed his…?”

Mizzay shrugged. “Whatevah. He’ll figyah somethin’ out, once I explain what’s goin’ on.”

“But he’s… I haven’t…”

“Told them about youz and Peggy breaking up, yet?” She laughed like a hyena. “Ya boys knew it wuz only a matta of time. You know these lunks gossip worse than a bunch of old ladies. They’ve been placin’ bets on when, exactly, you and Peggy wouldgo belly up.” She made a moue of displeasure, then… “Dammit. Prez had dibs on June, which means he wins.”

Billboard held in a chuckle, but only barely.

“You bet too, didn’t you,” he stated shrewdly.

She nodded.

“What was your time frame? When did you pick?”

“Last month,” Mizzay admitted.

“Well, hell,” Billboard responded, actually giving her arm a playful punch. “That means you win, because we called it quits two weeks ago, when it was still May.”

CHAPTER SIX

O’Shea didn’t know what the hell was going on.

One minute she was enjoying her walk on The Common, talking to Brigid, and the next, her bestie had gotten an emergency call from her husband.

That’s where things had broken down.

Brigid hadn’t been able to say exactly what the deal was with Sarge. Something about his foot, maybe? O’Shea had never gotten a definitive answer, but they’d had to hustle back to the hotel.

O’Shea, being a good friend, had told Brigid as she’d left, not to worry about picking her up for their night out at the restaurant; to take care of whatever the emergency was, and O’Shea would Uber.

Now, she’d emerged after taking a long, refreshing shower to two messages blinking on her phone. The first was telling her that her car warranty had expired. O’Shea snorted. The second was from Billboard. Apparently,hewas now her designated driver.

Well, shit.

Excitement and apprehension warred within her.

Excitement, because she’d be seeing the man for whom she’d lusted, having imagined his handsome face for almost a year. And apprehension because, as bold as she normally was, she had to behave herself. Billboard was dating someone else, and for O’Shea, that put the man totally off limits. She wasnota spoiler.

Going to her suitcase, O’Shea picked out a simple, mostly colorless outfit; gray pants with a white shirt, which she pairedwith a hastily pulled on, dark blue jacket. It was what she wore when she went undercover so as not to call attention to herself.

Tonight, it would be her armor.

She’d just finished blow-drying her short, dark hair when there was a sharp rap at her door. Padding over barefoot, she peeked out the spyhole, and…

Holy hell. There he was.

Even distorted by the cheap lens, the man looked drool-worthy. His blond hair was longer than she remembered, and lush. His shoulders…damn…more than filled out the entire viewfinder. She took in his breadth, fighting back an appreciative sigh, remembering how fine his body was.

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