Page 31 of Love Without Control

She almost smiled at me but not quite. “Thanks. I think I’d like to take a shower, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll close my door so you’ll have some privacy.”

I found my way to the kitchen where I found the couple working side by side at the counter. “Rocco,” I started.

“Robert,” he corrected. “That’s my name now.”

“Oh, gotcha. Have you talked to Rodrigo lately? I don’t have any way to contact him, and I’ve been worried.”

“I heard from him a couple hours ago, just briefly. He’s fine and holed up near the coast of Mississippi. Don’t worry about him.”

Relief flooded me, and I let out a long breath. “Okay, good. Evie is in the shower. I need to get her some more clothes and stuff at some point.”

“I can run to Target later,” Jamie said, glancing toward the hallway where our bedrooms were located and lowering her voice. “Tell us what’s going on and why the hell you have a missing fashion heiress on the run with you.”

I filled them in while they stacked warm sandwiches on a platter, Jamie stopping a couple times during my story to press a hand over her chest. “Oh, that poor girl. And you. Dear god, your father is just as horrible as Robert told me.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered.

“And how does Evie feel about being kidnapped, rescued, and then kidnapped again,” he asked.

“I didn’t kidnap her,” I snapped out, scowling at Rocco, er, Robert. “I explained the consequences and she said she’d go along with it.” Then I rolled my eyes and added, “Reluctantly, okay? She’s not thrilled about this.”

“I imagine not,” Jamie said. “Well, we’ll do our best to make it as… comfortable as possible for her.”

We cut off our conversation when we heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and Robert picked up the tray of food while Jamie and I carried the drinks and chips into the sunny dining room.

“Can I ask you a question?” Evie asked, biting off the point of her honey ham and swiss cheese sandwich.

“Sure. Anything,” Jamie told her.

“How did you two get together?”

Robert chuckled and leaned forward on his forearms, looking ready to roll. “I’m glad you asked. This is a great story.”

Jamie held up her palm to him. “Let me tell it. I do it better.”

“You do not,” he argued. “I’m an excellent storyteller.”

She scoffed. “Whatever. You have no flair… no pizzazz!” Jamie emphasized her claim with spread fingers and shaking hands.

“We don’t need jazz hands to explain our story, Jamie honey.”

The woman cocked her head and pursed her lips. “We do, if we don’t want it to be boring.”

He chuckled. “The way we met is anything but boring, honeybunch.” His large hand made a sweeping gesture to the woman beside him. “By all means…”

“Thank you,” she retorted smartly before turning her attention to Evie, who was seated on a cream, padded chair beside me. “You see, it was a dark and stormy evening in mid-July.” Her husband gave ahere we goroll of his eyes, and she elbowed him for his insolence. “The moon was hidden behind a bank of clouds, leaving all corners of Florida bathed in darkness.”

“Dramatic woman,” Robert mumbled, and Jamie flipped him her middle finger.

“Anywayyyyy, I was at my office late, working on some charts.”

“They don’t even know what you do,” her husband pointed out.

“I was getting to that.” She shot him a side eye and stole one of his sour cream and onion chips as punishment. After crunching it loudly in his ear, she explained to us, “I’m a reconstructive and cosmetic surgeon.”

“The best damn plastic surgeon in Florida,” Robert said, beaming at his wife.

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