Page 47 of Playing With Temptation

She transferred her glare to me.

“Yeah, it was my mother.”

I knew that tone. I also knew when she called Barb ‘mother’ and not ‘mom’ or ‘momma’ it was because she was annoyed, which was a rarity. Rainy and her mom were close. I liked that was one more thing about her that hadn’t changed.

“What’d Barb do to piss you off?” I asked.

“Did you know that our mothers are still friends?” she huffed.

“Come again?”

“Friends. Did you know that my mom and her companion have been to Tybee to visit your mom and her man friend.”

I couldn’t help smiling at the way she verbally punctuated ‘man friend’.

“Nope. Though I’m not surprised. They were close friends when we were together,” I reminded her.

“You’re not mad your mom didn’t mention she was still friends with my mom?”

Obviously Rainy was mad about it. I just didn’t understand why.

“No, Rae, I’m not mad. My mom never mentioned it, but I get why. Like I said, they were close. Your mom’s a good woman and I’m happy my mom still has Barb in her life. I take it your mom recently told you⁠—”

“No, Jase, she didn’t tell me. She let it slip when she called me earlier to ask about how you were doing after getting shot. Which is something we need to talk about, because you should probably be in bed recovering and not driving across town. Wait! Are you driving on pain meds?”

“No, baby, I’m not on pain meds.”

She rolled her eyes, stating exactly what she thought of me not taking meds to control the pain in my shoulder.

“Well, that’s good,” she snapped as if it wasn’t good at all. “But you should be resting, not standing⁠—”

“Rainy,” I interrupted. “I’m fine. But if you want me to rest, come sit with me on your couch.”

Her eyes darted to her couch then back to me.

“Um…”

I waited for her to say more. But she didn’t need to verbalize her thoughts. The pink in her cheeks said it all.

“Rainy?”

“Huh?”

“I think we can manage sitting on your couch and not tear at each other’s clothes.”

Maybe. With great restraint.

Her eyes narrowed. I smiled and said, “Don’t give me a dirty look when that’s exactly what you were thinking about. Or I should say, what you were remembering.”

“I’m giving you a dirty look because it’s annoying you can still read me,” she informed me.

I felt that burrow into my chest.

This was the Rainy I knew.

Open, honest, totally out there with her every thought.

Not the closed-off version she’d given me at the bar and my hospital room.