Page 19 of Tony

I shake my head and stifle a chuckle. “No shit?”

“No fucking shit. We’re the red-headed stepchildren of the family. Both literally and figuratively.”

“So you take after her? Your wild, Bohemian mother?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Do you tell fortunes too?”

She taps her head. “I see everything.”

“Well, you do have a front-row view of this town.” I nod to the window.

She giggles. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

“Not a single fucking thing.”

“I like you, Tony Dumas. We should be friends.”

“Friends as in we’re gonna fuck tonight? Or friends as in friends?”

She laughs again. She’s an easy laugh. I like that. It’s a signal of sorts. The kind of signal that lets you know someone likes you. Which she just admitted, three minutes into our brand-new stranger relationship.

“That’s exciting,” she says. “And bold. And, I will confess, a very intriguing offer. But if you’re stalking Belinda Baker, I’m gonna have to take a pass.”

“You’ve already got your hands full with her?”

“Exactly.” She huffs and her smile falters. “She’s a very hard act to follow.”

“That she is.”

“Why though? Why is she so… interesting? I see the way people look at her. It’s like… she’s a magnet or something.”

“Hmm. I feel that pull.”

“Why though?”

I shrug. “I wish I knew, to be honest. I don’t want to be here. She’s been out of my life for ten years. Missing entirely for eight of those. But she shows up in my town a couple months ago out of the blue and suddenly I can’t fucking think straight. The next thing I know I’m two thousand miles away. I have a short-term rental apartment, I left my business in the hands of my dipshit brother-in-law, and I’m starting to think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Love has that power.”

“I’m not in love with her.”

“Of course not. And I’m not in love with Vann Vaughn, either.”

“Touché. I actually do have business here. But it’s not a short-term rental type of business. It’s a quick look-see and then back on the plane to Key West. But I’ve been in town for four days now and I haven’t even gotten started on it.”

“Too busy stalking her?” Soshee says. And it’s not an accusation, either. Just a fact.

I nod. Then sigh. “Yeah. There’s something wrong with me. I’m sick, I think.”

She nods in agreement as she purses her lips and stares across the street. “I get it.” Then she turns to me and her bright green eyes meet mine. There are a few seconds of silence as we stare at each other and it becomes uncomfortably awkward. So I pick up the menu and start looking at the food, unsure where this goes next.

“The lasagna is so good, you’ll want to cry when you take the last bite.”

Interesting choice of words. Crying after it’s over. That’s why I’m here, right? I glance at Soshee over the menu. “Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm. And the Bolognese? I practically come before I take the first bite.”