Page 62 of Fiery Romance

“Go over there with Miss Tasha and get a drink from the vending machine,” Island says gently.

When my daughter waddles off, I stare at Island’s beautiful and delicate face. Today, she’s got something shimmery on her eyelids. Her mouth is glossy and brown. Big, red curls fall around her face. Her outfits change as much as her hair, but it’s charming rather than overdone.

What is it about her? There’s something about her beauty that’s hard to describe. Ethereal, maybe? Like it’s not quite of this world. Like she doesn’t care to fit into any mold, and it’s exciting. Magnetic, even.

“Are you okay?” Island asks in a soft voice.

“Yeah.”

“Wow, Bolton. For a scary ex-military guy, you’re a bad liar.”

My lips curl up.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Affirmative, ma’am.”

“Oooh, military talk. It’s kind of hot. You know. If it wasn’t coming from you.”

My smile broadens. I stare into her big brown eyes, enjoying the view. Enjoying the lightness that comes when I’m talking to her. Arguing with her. Looking at her. The woman really is stunning.

I take in a big breath.

And, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.

CHAPTER7

THE CAR EXCHANGE

ISLAND

“Oh my g—”I yelp when the steering wheel starts automatically turning. I’d forgotten that this fancy car has automatic parallel parking features. The car does a chirpy little beep after fitting me against the sidewalk as if to say ‘didn’t I do a good job, master?’

I place a hand against my rapidly beating heart and glance around to make sure no one saw me freak out like a small-town girl on her first trip to the big city.

The coast is clear.

Perfect.

I push the door open and set one cheetah-print heel against the sidewalk. The other soon joins it and I duck back inside to grab my gift bag.

A loud whistle from a nearby construction worker slices through the air while I’m bent over. “Nice peaches, mami!”

I fling a sarcastic smile and then a less-sarcastic middle finger over my shoulder, grab my purse, gift bag and phone and totter into the café. My eyes immediately lock on the colorful balloons floating on the outside deck.

Target located.

The heat of the day presses against me when I leave the air conditioned interior and step outside.

Rosie, who’s sitting around a wrought-iron table, pops out of her chair.

“Island, you came!” Her voice is so high-pitched with excitement, I’m surprised the balloons don’t burst.

“Hey, Rosie.” I give her a tight hug.

She sways me back and forth and then eases away. I stare into her face and my heart is skewered by memories of Taz.

Rosie and her brother look so much alike. They both have olive skin tones, big, expressive brown eyes and bright smiles.

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