“Where’s yerda’sheart, eh?”
She points to her pudgy belly.
“Nae, Mia. That’s where the food goes.” I move her hand up a few notches.
“Daddy’s heart, here!”
“Aye.” I toss her sky-high and squeeze her giggling, wee body to me.
“Leith,” Chevelle gasps from somewhere in the house, “the cops. They’re here!”
My mind goes instantly to the trunk of my Audi. Humongous eyes shine up at me as I tell Mia that she needs to stay quiet in the pantry until I or her mam calls for her. For a second, my weeweanseems to be all-knowing. Bloody hell.I’m fecked.
Chapter 6
Chevelle
I spota small caravan of police cruisers along the slope near our driveway from the glass walls. I call out to my husband. My forehead rests against the cool glass, neck craning to peek around the corner of the street.
When I hear him rush into the room, I glance over my shoulder. His usually tan skin is whiter than crisp, new linen. There are only two reasons my husband becomes pasty. One, we’ve returned from an extended visit to the raining highlands. Two, the friggin cops. It’s a MacKenzie thing. “Where’s Mia?”
“The pantry.”
“Why?” I turn around to give Leith my undivided attention. I place my hand on my hip and laugh. “Oh, is she sneaking Fruit Loops? I forgot to tell you, babe. Minion Mia’s returned to her old habits.”
Leith lifts a brow.
“Remember, we had the old baby gate on her bedroom after one of our many ‘I told you so’ episodes? If you forgot, I’m implying thatItoldyouso.”
I’d suggested baby proofing the doorknobs, but Leith said her weehands couldn’t possibly get into trouble. I’m pretty sure my husband talked extra shit about me in his language as he laughed and walked away that day.
I grin. “You remember?”
“Nae.” Those dreamy eyes of his slide to the left for a fraction of a second.Friggin liar.
“You do! We woke up frantic, only to find her in the pantry, cereal stuck to her cheeks, hand still in the Fruit Loops while she dozed.”
He clears his throat. “Ye said the police.”
I chew my lip, glancing Leith up and down. Then it dawns on me. In the last few months, I’ve had a few spats with his mother over the pub and my bartending. Nan loves hard, and there’s no doubt she cares for me. Leith was a dick a few minutes ago, but his only debate about my return to bartending revolves around the guy who touched me and that Michie did nothing about it. Nan would’ve killed the man who touched my ass at Michie’s while I was pregnant with her first granddaughter.Her only grandchild.
If he’s already been talking to his mom about the bar, I assume he’s anxious since his parents are coming for dinner. He’s afraid she and I will have words. I shake my head at him, looking back out the window.
“Yeah,” I shrug. “There are a bunch of squad cars outside. Our new neighbor has a mean backhand. So, I went by with a peach cobbler. The husband answered, had the nerve to take it without saying ‘thank you.’ I had the number to a women’s advocacy group just in case I saw her.”
“Dinna get in others business, Chevelle. Ye tell me.”
“I wish—”
“Don’t!” He says in in English this time to make a point.
“Sheesh! I get it. My attitude with somebody would make you rescind your pledge of nonviolence.” I nod, still in contemplation about the boys-in-blue outside. “Baby, I bet you twenty kisses that Hilda, across the way, called the cops on our evil ass neighbor. Old as she is, she told them to bring the calvary.”
There’s an awkward, foreign silence between us.
“So—my sometimes funny, super-hot Scot—are you worried about dinner with your parents tonight?”
“Nae.” Leith rubs the back of his neck. He offers a sheepish grin. “Aye, ye caught me.”