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“Yes, we do get music in Tennessee.”
“My God, you’re a prickly bastard.” Exactly why I liked him. “What made you choose this area anyway?”
He gestured an arm toward the wall of ceiling to floor windows on the opposite side of the room. “Look around. There’s your answer.”
“Thank you for that bit of education. I’ll just make myself a snack. A small one, to tide me over to lunch.”
“There ain’t no lunch here unless you make it yourself. I usually grab a sandwich while I’m working.”
“Do you mean like…out in the fields?”
He sighed heavily. “On my music, London boy. Go on, get out of my hair.”
With effort, I managed not to run into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances gleamed as far as my ravenous eyes could see. There were half a dozen cabinets made of that same planked wood, and a big butcher block island where I could envision a footlong triple decker sandwich spread out for my personal delight.
Maybe I was pregnant, because I wanted to weep at the jar of pickles sitting innocuously on the counter.
I opened the fridge and let out a groan at the well-stocked shelves. The guy really did get me. I would’ve been in the depths of depression if I’d opened it up to find the usual bachelor food situation.
Who was I kidding? It had been weeks since Margo had been returned home safe and sound—not counting the unavoidable mental scars—and depression was too optimistic a word for what I’d endured.
She’d sent me a card. An actual card in the mail, to my shitty motel room. I was still surprised I’d even received it. I’d opened it up and stared at her looping script until it had blurred.
She was worried about me.
How could that be possible? I’d been involved in the plot to do her husband harm, at least financially. I should’ve put a stop to it sooner.
Or else if you’d backed out sooner, they might have moved on her sooner. Change one thing, change everything.
Christ, Jerry was dead. I’d hated the bloke, so it wasn’t a loss. Nor was the death of his lackey. But I couldn’t deny I’d been rocked. He and my mum were a unit in my mind. And she’d plugged him full of lead.
I didn’t know her, clearly. Didn’t fully understand how much she adored Simon. Thank God in this case, because his life had been spared.
And mine, thanks to that last minute change in plans. I just didn’t know what mine was worth yet.
My mum wouldn’t be getting out of prison anytime soon. Much as I disliked her for so many things—kidnapping and terrorizing Margo topping the list—I didn’t want to see her jailed.
No matter what, she was my mum. Our mum. But Jesus, I wanted her gone.
Just…gone. For good.
So, yes, it bothered me she was in a cell. I would learn to live with it. She’d earned her due. I just wanted all of this over, and I had to think it was for my own sanity.
We’d come through the storm, and somehow we’d made it to the other side.
As if I was in a dream, I rounded up parts of my feast. A long loaf of crusty bread, mayonnaise, turkey and ham cold cuts, lettuce, tomato, onion, and of course the pickles. I chopped and layered my sandwich, finally digging in with a gusto I normally reserved only for sex.
Sex was not a thought in my head right now. But a loaded hero sandwich would be my mistress.
I might even go for a threesome.
“I’m a little worried about the way you’re fondling that bread. You didn’t do that with the rest of it, did you?”
After I’d demolished most of my meal, I looked up with my mouth full to find Flynn lounging in the doorway, arms crossed. “This is my second sandwich.”
“How do you eat like that and weigh nothing? Oh, yeah, because you’re still a kid. Try that in a few years, son, and you’ll find yourself with a beer belly and jeans that don’t fit.”
“Not with my metabolism,” I said, still chewing. “Besides, I’ve found ways to burn calories.”
