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Blushing scarlet for once again thinking about living here herself, she zipped her gaze guiltily his way. Praying he had no idea what was going on inside her brain, she cleared her throat. "She, ah … The real-estate agent, that is … wrote out a quick list of other places for sale. She swore their neighborhoods were just as nice as ours."
She yanked the addresses from her pocket. Realizing she’d folded the sheet way too many times, she thrust it his way as if to dispose of incriminating evidence as soon as possible.
"Here."
He paused, looking taken aback. "You didn’t have to go to all that trouble," he told her, taking the page to slowly smooth out every nervous fold she’d made in order to read the note.
"Oh," she waved an unconcerned hand. "It’s okay. I don’t mind."
He scanned the addresses briefly, looking like he might actually be reading them, before he lifted his face. "Thanks," he murmured. "I appreciate this."
As he glanced away, something passed through his gaze. Guilt? Regret? She couldn’t exactly read the emotion. But it definitely wasn’t gratitude. His face had drained of color and he looked sick enough to vomit.
"Well." She self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back. "I should probably go."
He lifted his face. "Mia," he started as if he were about to confess something big.
She nodded, urging him to continue.
But before he could say anything, the front door burst open and another woman exploded into the house like she owned the place.
"Drew! I had an idea."
She was older than Mia by five to ten years and had impossibly curly, dark hair … just like Drew’s.
"Mandy," he said breathlessly and dodged forward quickly, just enough to stand directly in front of Mia, blocking her from the other woman’s view.
Whether he was trying to hide or protect her, Mia couldn’t tell.
"What are you doing here?" His tone was nervous, his words breathless and rushed.
The woman he called Mandy had been hurrying forward, a flurry of motion. But at his question, she faltered and slowed. Mia peeked around him in time to see her frown in confusion.
"You never ask me—"
That’s when she noticed Mia. This time, she came to a shuddering stop. Eyes widening with a sense of recognition, Mandy’s jaw dropped. Mia had a split second to wonder why she looked so shocked before that very shock dissolved into rage.
"You," Mandy hissed. Suddenly, she was moving again, stalking with a determined stride, like a bull toward the red flag.
Drew turned to the side so he could face both women, like he knew better than to put his back to either of them. But to Mia, he’d just opened the gate to let the enraged bovine through.
Stumbling backward, away from the woman with murder in her eyes, Mia tripped on a framed portrait that had been resting on a floor easel and went sprawling.
Triumph filled her predator’s face. She had Mia right where she wanted her. And she would’ve gotten Mia too if Drew hadn’t stepped between them and caught the charging woman around the stomach.
"Mandy," he said, his voice steady but firm, his arm uncompromising as it hooked her waist. "Stop."
But his stern command only enraged the woman further. Stomping on his instep hard enough to make him grunt, she glared over her shoulder, lashing him with a lethal glare.
"How could you?" She sounded so betrayed and crushed even Mia felt a spurt of outrage on her behalf.
She stumbled to her feet just as Drew yelped, "What? You actually think I invited her here? She just showed up out of nowhere, Mandy. I swear."
Mia frowned, hurt and confused. She was missing something, something huge and important. But what, she had no idea.
"What’s going on?" she dared to ask, her voice tremulous and uncertain.
Mandy glared. Trying to leap out of Drew’s arms and charge once again, she snarled, "He’s married. Do you know that? Do you even care?"
