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“It was Mrs. Miller’s drink. She went off the rails and is now passed out on my couch.”
Tessa croaks a laugh but presses her lips together. “That nanny of yours sure is trouble.”
“Tessa, I’m serious. What did you give her?”
“She’ll sleep it off,” Tess whines.
“Yeah, or she might die. Are you even a licensed bartender?”
She scoffs. “I’m not a licensed anything.”
Levi runs his fingers through his hair. And I can sort of see the appeal now. Chiseled jaw, broad chest, blue eyes that don’t quite have the same intensity Chase’s do, but would do just fine for literally any woman in Hideaway.
“Of course you’re not. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have my dad fire your ass right now.”
“She was yelling at one of the kids,” she finally snaps. “And I didn’t like it, so I gave her something I thought might chill her out, not knock her out.”
“Which. Kid?”
She hesitates then cocks her head to a group of kids. “That one.”
“Which one?” he grits, glaring at her.
She shifts her gaze. “The one with your eyes.”
“Jackson?” he breathes, his tension easing.
She spares him a glance, muttering as she storms off. “I’ll go check her breathing.”
I follow Tessa because I want to help. And because I think I like her a little more now.
27
To think I used to judge Pepper’s taste in friends. But as I watch her follow Tess, who I just witnessed get reamed by my brother, I’m rethinking my judgment.
“How’d it go with Conner?” Levi asks, clearly needing a change of subject.
“He got the message. You were right. Lonnie came through.”
“How long do you think we can keep this up?”
“Not long,” Noah answers, coming up to us. “We’ve got a problem.” He motions us outside the tent for privacy. The sun is starting to set and the fireworks that Levi and I planned should be starting soon. But all thoughts of that freeze when I see one angry petite blonde heading our way.
Charlie is storming over on the grassy field. Her eyes blazing. She charges over to Noah and slaps him across the face.
It’s hard. It’s not playful or even gentle. It’s raw and as if there’s years of pent-up frustration behind it.
“You bastard. Why do you hate me?”
My brother doesn’t seem surprised at all. Taking off his glasses, he rubs his cheek. “I don’t hate you,” he mutters.
“I just lost my job at the library. You reported me for stealing books?”
“What?” I turn a hard glare at Noah.
Ignoring me, he keeps his eyes on Charlie. “I was just reporting what I saw.”
“I’ve never stolen a single book in my life,” she grits.
