Page 78 of Interpreter

I hug my purse close to my body. “Yeah,” I lie, a little breathily. It’s not cold for December. Frankly, it’s a bit muggy and I’m out of shape. “My car broke down.”

“You need a ride to the fundraiser?”

“Fundraiser?” I try not to act too confused.

It doesn’t work. Cal’s forehead wrinkles. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you would be meeting Tim at the foundation. He’s helping host the car wash for the music class.” He shakes his head slowly, and I imagine my expression is like one of those cartoons where steam comes out of their ears.

“Is Martha helping too?”

Yeah, you know where my head went.

Cal scratches his chin. “I think so. Her daughter plays the clarinet.”

Hell no. Hell to the fucking no. I flash Cal a grin that, I’m sure, looks crazy. “Then yes. The foundation is exactly where I am heading.”

I will cut a bitch. I know I just whined about Tim needing someone else, but I will be damned if that vulture moves in on him any more today. He’s still mine for four more weeks! I race around the front of Cal’s responsible sedan and flop down.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks when I pull off my sweater, leaving me in only the cami I had underneath. I adjust his air, blowing it directly on my face, and then I move to my sweaty hair where I’m able to sweep it up into a decent bun given the limited mirror space. “I’m fine,” I tell him. Just forking fine. If Martha thinks she can watch my man get all wet and scrub her high-end tires with his killer biceps, then she is in for a rude awakening.

“Okay,” Cal adds softly. “Do you want me to call you a tow?”

I almost blurt outnoandthat I plan on pushing it in the lake with Martha’s cold corpse inside, but refrain. “That’s okay. Felipe knows a guy.” A free one. “I’ll get him to call when I get to the foundation.” As soon as I make sure Martha’s hands are only on her wallet, donating to the children.

Cal’s nod is curt, and I don’t bother dealing with it. All I can manage is taking a few deep breaths and making sure I don’t look rabid while getting out of the car when we pull into the McCallister-Jameson Foundation.

The first thing I notice when Cal and I get out is the six wash stations roped off with tape. Each station has one of Tim’s brothers leading the wash except for one. That one, I notice, has two—Cade washing the car and Theo lounging in a chair. Coincidentally, their line is the longest, but only by a car or two. It would speed things up if Theo helped, but he looks content with his aviators on and a nice sheen from the droplets of water hitting his chest. “You’re doing great, Jameson,” he teases.

Cade, his shirt still on and clinging to his muscular frame, shakes his head. “You know, Von Bremen, you could actually help.”

“Why can’t we just donate the money? I’ve never understood the purpose behind all the manual labor.”

Cade stops washing this lady’s hood. “You’re supposed to teach children that money is earned through hard work.”

Theo’s face scrunches up like he tasted something nasty. “I worked hard, Jameson. I didn’t get to the Major Leagues by blowing the administration. Don’t lecture me. I’m rich because I earned it. And because of that, I don’t have to be out here washing other people’s cars for the sake of saying I broke a sweat.”

I move toward the guys, intending on asking them where Tim is. He better not be cornered by Martha.

“Hey, we’re in line,” one of the ladies barks.

“They’re family,” I lie, pointing toward Theo and Cade. They’re semi-family. At least for another month. The woman, who really doesn’t need to be watching them, doesn’t look like she believes me, and that’s okay because Theo spots me and a huge grin pulls onto his face.

“Well, well. Look, Jameson. This snooze-fest just got a whole lot more interesting.” Theo sprays off the hood Cade just finished while spraying Cade on purpose, sending a collective sigh through the women watching.

“Who’s your friend, darlin’?” Hayes’s gaze is locked on someone past my shoulder. I turn just in time to see Tim rise from where he was crouched, washing a rim. His eyes go to the person behind me too. “Cal,” he grumbles. “Nice of you to come.” Is he strangling the rag clutched in his hand?

Cal clears his throat. “I’m sorry I’m late. Milah’s car broke down, so I picked her up.”

Theo rises from his chair, and Cade stands up to his full height. What are they doing?

“Darlin’, why don’t you go inside with Ms. Peak and the other ladies?” Hayes says, blocking my view to Tim.

“I want to talk to him,” I argue. Actually, I want to fuck him senseless for just getting on my nerves and making me worry when I already had a bad day, but I can’t say that in front of all these kids and parents.

Hayes signs something behind his back, and my blood pressure skyrockets. “What are you saying to him?”

“Milah,” Cal says softly. “Go inside so we can finish up.”

“Fine,” I tell them all, “but tell Mr. Lambros I will be back for our chat.”

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