“Get out of the way, Daisy.”
“No.”
“You owe me a few minutes of your time, don’t you think?” He was seconds away from picking her up and moving her.
She just stared at him then she let out a long sigh that had him longing to bend her over his knee, but finally she stepped back and flung out a hand. “Be my guest.”
“Thank you,” he replied, stomping inside.
“Figured you weren’t going to leave until you had your say and I don’t want the neighbors calling the cops.”
“Worried about me going to jail?”
“Don’t have time for the paperwork,” she replied quickly.
He shouldn’t find her amusing. Only this was the Daisy he remembered. The one with too much sass and spit for her own good, as his grandfather would say.
He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook then sitting on the bench in the foyer, removed his boots.
“Make yourself at home,” she said sarcastically. She turned away, heading into the living room. He followed then came to a stop, looking around. There was a huge, soft pale pink blanket on the sofa, which she’d obviously been cuddled up in. Big throw pillows occupied most of the couch. Fairy lights had been strung across the mantel. She’d always loved fairy lights.
“See you’ve made yourself at home.”
“This is my home,” she shot back.
He took in the mess of wrappers and bowls filled with candy and chocolate.
“Looks like Willy Wonka threw up in here.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said snootily, but she did start picking up empty cans of pop and candy wrappers.
“How much sugar have you had today?”
“Not nearly enough for this,” she muttered. She sent him a withering look before disappearing into the kitchen. He glanced around the rest of the house. It was huge. He wondered why she’d rented such a big place. . .unless. . .
“Do you have kids?” he asked as she returned. Bear and Ellie hadn’t said anything. But it would explain the big house and the excess of candy. Although, who would let their ki
ds eat this much crap?
“No.”
“Strange.”
“What? Why?” She gave him a puzzled look.
“Just figured Bobby-John would have knocked you up. From what I hear he thought condoms were the devil’s work.”
She made a funny face. What? She didn’t like to be reminded of her time with Bobby-John?
“He marry you?”
He told himself he didn’t care about her answer, but his hands were clenched into fists. To hide the telling sign, he strode to one of the overstuffed armchairs and sat. She remained standing, just staring down at him. If she thought the higher position gave her more power, she was sadly mistaken.
“No, he didn’t, uh, marry me.” She sounded off. He could always tell when she was lying, her nose tended to twitch and her voice grew higher. This wasn’t a lie, but it was something else. It was obvious she didn’t want to talk about Bobby-John.
“There. . .there’s something you need to know about Bobby-John. He—”
“Daisy, I’m not here to talk about Bobby-John,” he interrupted, even though he’d been the one to bring up BJ.