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* * *
The week was long.Partially because Eric, the manipulative bastard, was weaseling his way in and around town with the locals. Broderick had come home blustering that he was inRhyett’sbar, befriending the bartender and a few regulars. The following day, Max came home livid that he was hopping on one of the tour boats with a well-respected captain who was a friend to the Rhodes. But despite his attempt to undermine my little oasis here, I’d been…having fun. Elora and Max were constantly entangled in verbal sparring matches or playing one card game or another. Broderick was an expert at stirring up conversations that somehow wound deeper than anticipated.
Mostly, it was long because…I missed Jameson.
Was it possible to miss someone that drove you crazy? I missed the feel of him on that damn dock.That’swhat I missed. Which wasn’t allowed. There was no missing the sensation of that man pressed against my mouth. In an impulsive moment of uncontainable curiosity and farfetched reach, it had been one helluva kiss to make this ploy work—which it had, as the town was already speculating over wedding dates—and infuriate Eric if he caught wind of it. Despite the ridiculous tension in my core, I had not brought myself any kind of relief, mostly just to spite the cocky bastard. Even worse, I couldn’t stop imagining him using that kiss while he serviced himself. The visual resulted in a most unwelcome tightening in my belly.
* * *
When my periodshowed upfivedays early, I was at the Grizzly Grind. The weekly tsunami drill still scared the dickens out of me—seriously, that keening alarm would only be appropriate inWar of the Worlds,but they let the thing scream at us every Wednesday afternoon—and I’d slipped to the bathroom as it blared, swearing when I discovered the horrific murder scene in my once adorable underwear, and suddenly thankful I was wearing black jeans. It seemed everything was out of order these days. But the second day brought with it an ungodly kind of cramping, like the hell I’d endured as a teenager, making for the second time in as many days I’d had to leave the shop to the girls unexpectedly. No way to learn like a substitute manager dropping you into the deep end.
Elora’s grumpy face greeted me from the couch when I came in the door, a hot pad and bag of gummy worms both set on her belly withHow I Met Your Motherplaying on the television.
“The red tide get you too?” I griped, dropping my purse and kicking off both boots. Suddenly my early start made sense. She’d been up in my space all month and thrown off my cycle, dammit.
“Thewhat?”
“Red tide. We get this nasty algae tide in Florida every summer that makes it impossible to breathe, rendering the beaches unusable. Brex and I decided it seemed a fitting name for Aunt Flo.”
A subtle smirk crept up her face as she popped a handful of gummies in her mouth, chewing as she asked, “Aunt Flo?”
“Also known as shark week.Don’t get in the water.”
“I’m sad I didn’t get more time with Brexley. You two sound hilarious.”
“Positively fabulous,” I teased, heading straight for the guest room, where I stripped and swapped into pajamas, grabbing a pillow and my own hot pad from where I’d stashed it in the zipped compartment of my suitcase. “Care if I join you?”
She scrunched up her legs to make room at the end of the couch. “Welcome to Misery Island, where we love company.”
Smiling until a wall of nausea rocked through me, I flopped down, reaching around to plug the cord in. Max emerged from the owner’s suite, looking cautious as he edged around the room like he was attempting to blend into the wall.
“You’re a terrible chameleon,” I grumbled. He winced, freezing like a cartoon character that got caught snooping where they didn’t belong.
“Not you too,” he whined, shoulders slumping as he screwed up his face.
“Not me,what?”
“Red alert?” he grumbled, abandoning his placement and heading for the kitchen. I giggled and then winced as the cramps seized my thighs. My grandfather once told me that women only felt pain during birth and cycles because of the ‘sin in the garden’. Usually, I didn’t buy into those belief systems. But I’ll tell you what, as agony threatened my ability to breathe, I resolved to pulling that bitch, Eve, out of the grave just so I could send her back myself, should the ability ever present itself.
“Yeah,” I finally grumbled when the pain subsided enough to formulate words. Max rifled through something in the kitchen behind us. “You could say that.”
“I will be hiding in Jameson’s room unless I’m needed until the threat subsides.”
“Chicken,” Elora mumbled.
He raised a hand in farewell. “Guilty as charged.”
We watched another two episodes after he retreated before the garage door opened and a very scruffy Jameson stepped inside, eyeing us from the mudroom. My belly clenched, and for a beat, it had nothing to do with menses. If he was handsome cleaned up in fresh clothes, then roughed up he wasimpossibly hotter. What was it about a rugged man with grime on his hands that made my ovaries sob? How I ever thought white collar was attractive was beyond me, because Jameson was all man, and in other circumstances, I’d be tempted to jump his bones.
“Hi,” I whispered stupidly. There was absolutely no need to be mouse-like, for pity's sake. This whole dumb fake dating thing was his idea. I’d just…cranked the stove up to culinary inferno mode and justified my curiosity with the ruse. You know. Nothing to melt into the couch over. But as those steely eyes landed on me and I fought the need to incinerate at the memory of those gritty hands on my ass, the thought occurred that perhaps I could truly vanish if I went somewhere like…Siberia? Surely, Eric wouldn’t follow me there, and then I could be dead to the world and—
“Hey,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat and cutting off my spiral with one word.
“You’re a day early,” I noted, wishing it wasn’t so obvious I was happy about it. Heart rate faster. Face aching with the smile that refused to be denied.
“Welcome home,” Elora said, a bit sardonically. Her brother eyed the television and sighed when he spotted that telltale bar booth.
“Oh man, already!?” Jameson dropped his duffle bag at the hallway arch. “Christ, El, it usually takes a month for your witchy stuff to bring somebody down with you.”
