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She broke into peals of laughter, her smile lighting up the room so brightly that it could have been sunrise instead of eight o’clock at night. Something tightened in the pits of my stomach even as my heart jumped up into my throat at the sight.
How had the scrawny, scrappy ten-year-old I’d been assigned to nine years ago grown into a woman this beautiful? How in all the levels of Hell was that acceptable?
Ihadknown her since she was ten. The year she’d officially become an adult, I’d had my thirtieth fucking birthday.
I should not have been entertaining thoughts that would have gotten me consigned to Hell just for having them pass through my head.
Swallowing hard, I jerked my gaze toward the TV instead. A man in a suit stood in front of a bunch of colorful boxes while a nervous contestant sweated it out beside him.
I’d never liked game shows, but pretending to be interested in it was better than letting the slightest hint show of the heat that’d flared under my skin. I’d stare straight at the sun if it somehow drowned out the attraction that sparked when I least wanted it to.
Which was basically always.
Of course, it got even harder to ignore Lou when she peeled herself off the sofa and sauntered over to where I was doling out our dinner. She’d developed a slight sway to her hips that I wasn’t sure was even purposeful.
And when she leaned her elbows onto the counter, the neckline of her tee dipping to reveal a deeper shadow of cleavage between her breasts…
“Here, eat up.” I shoved the plate toward her a little harder than I’d meant to. “I don’t see how you’re eating enough after spending so much time skating. You're going to end up working your muscles to death if you keep this up.”
“What are you, my nutritionist?” she asked, already popping a forkful into her mouth.
Her eyelids dropped in a swoon that both gratified the cook in me—and made my traitor cock twitch. “Mmm, this really is good. I’m not usually that into the peppers. Obviously Mom should have hired you as chef instead of that fancy pants we had at home.”
I raised my eyebrows at her as we moved to the table. “But then who would have made sure your rebellious ass didn’t get hung out to dry?”
It was the wrong comment, because it encouraged Lou to shake that undeniably pert ass before she settled it into her seat. Cue another cock twitch.
“I’m sure I’d have survived somehow,” she said breezily.
I sank down across from her, grateful that the lower half of my body was now out of view. “Well, I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites. My abuela’s old recipe that she brought with her from Cuba.”
Lou shoved another forkful into her mouth. “I wonder if my great-grandparents didn’t care about recipes or if Mom chucked all those out before I came into the picture.”
She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then waved her fork at me. “I was thinking. I saw a truckful of those douchebags outside their hideout yesterday. They’re still going around being massive assholes. Obviously I didn’t hit them hard enough for them to decide to get out of town.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said, watching her warily. “Idiots have a tendency to also be stubborn.”
“Too bad for them that I am too. There are plenty of other ways we can pick away at them until they realize they’re better off finding a new stomping ground.”
I suppressed a groan. “I assume you’re going to tell me about these other ways.”
“Of course!” She shot me a mischievous grin that tugged at both my heart and my groin. “I thought about mocking them with graffiti, but I don’t think that’d have enough impact. I’ve got to make things difficult for them, not just annoy them.”
“Naturally,” I said dryly, putting on an impassive expression to hide the worry spinning up through my stomach.
“I could smash some windows—on their cars or the building itself—but after just one, the noise would probably be enough to bring them running outside. A single window wouldn’t really be big enough.”
“You settled on something difficult and big, then. I’m thrilled.”
Lou laughed at my deadpan remark. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothingrisky. I came up with the perfect strategy: tire spikes. All you need is some scrap metal to play with. Set them down at night near the cars, the pricks drive over them the next day, and poof! No one’s roaring through town terrorizing people.”
She dug into her meal, radiating confidence in her plan. And I couldn’t even fault her that assurance, as nerve-wracking as I found it.
How had the gang princess adapted to small-town life so quickly—while also championing the town in her own way? Lou had always been a bold spirit, but now that she’d had a taste of freedom, she was like a wild bird finally released from its cage.
I just had to make sure she didn’t fly too far too fast.
“Remember, we’re supposed to be keeping our heads down. If you’re caught messing with these guys—”
