Page 4 of Fiery Romance

I dig my fingers into the phone, face my ‘award wall’, and hiss, “Is that why the kid’s father just barged into my shop looking like he had a sniper on standby?”

“What?”

“What did you do, Rosie?”

“My job.” She sounds defensive. “I’m obligated by law to report child welfare complaints. If we do the check and everything is alright, then everyone goes home. Once it’s in our hands, it has nothing to do with you.”

“According tohim,I unleashed CPS on his tail and he’s about to lose his daughter.”

“He said that?”

“He was pissed about it. Seemed one nostril flare away from trashing my shop.”

“Oh my gosh. Did hethreatenyou? I’ll write that in his file. There’s no way he’s keeping his daughter if he’s going around harassing people.”

“What? No, I—” I suck in a sharp breath. My instinct is to defend him, but I stop myself. It’s not like I know the full story. Maybe he really doesn’t deserve to have custody of the kid. “Is he that explosive with his daughter? Did you find evidence that she was in a dangerous situation?”

“Not exactly.”

“What did you find then?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you—”

“Dammit, Rosie. Spill.” I smack my hands against the desk.

She sighs. “He’s ex-military. His wife died almost three years ago and he had a nanny taking care of his kids.”

“The nanny’s the one who came into my shop and talked trash about Regan’s hair.”

“Exactly. When he was informed, Mr. Bolton sacked the nanny. The very day he got the report, in fact.”

“So he’s not a total buffoon.”

“He seems fiercely protective of Regan.”

“Then I did him a solid. Why was he so angry with me?”

“The thing is…” She hesitates. “There seems to be some kind of internal family conflict. I don’t know the details, but having us show up on his doorstep didn’t help his case. From the little I could glean, I think he really could lose his kids.”

“Kids? As in plural?”

“He has a son too.”

Great.

“Dammit, Regan. I didn’t ask you to take anyone’s kid. I just asked you to check up on the nanny. She was clearly being emotionally abusive.”

“This case is out of my hands. I can’t do anything more than I already have.” She pauses. “Why do you sound so shaken? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

I bought the bank.

My muscles seize. I keep rubbing the bridge of my nose as tension builds in my head. These front-feeding braids are way too tight. I’ll have to take them out soon.

“Thanks for your help, Rosie. Sorry to bother you at work. I just got a little panicked when I found out how big this had gotten. You know me.” I let out a breezy laugh that is—in no way—a reflection of how I feel. “I love me some drama, but not when it hits this close to home.”

“Sorry, Island.”

“No need to be sorry. You only did what you were supposed to. I’m sure everything will shake out just fine.”

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