The Family You Make (Sunrise Cove #1)(102)

Between the gala not being as big as she’d hoped, then running into her tall, dark, and sexy past, and now Ms. Riley, she felt like the scared, insecure teenage girl she’d once been.

There was no cookies-and-cream ice cream in the freezer. Which meant it was official. The evening had gone to hell in a handbasket. Maybe tomorrow she’d get out of bed with an adjusted attitude. She’d go back to her come-what-may facade. But for that to happen, she needed ice cream. Copious amounts of it. She had cookies, chips, and a candy bar. All that she needed now was to settle on a different flavor of ice cream. Double fudge or Neapolitan? She loved Neapolitan, but sometimes a girl just needed her chocolate—

“Take one of each, let’s go.”

Riggs. Of all the places in all the land, why had they collided tonight with her confidence at an all-time low? She could feel him behind her, the heat of his big body both a bad and good memory. Okay, great memory. But she waved him off like a pesky fly without looking at him. “Some things can’t be rushed.”

Two long arms reached around her and took everything out of her hands, dumping them all in the bin of candy bars at her hip.

She tried to push him away, but he caught her arm and held tight. She stared up at him. His brown hair was military short. His eyes studied her calmly. He looked exactly like the teenager he’d once been, and yet also like he’d lived two lifetimes since she’d seen him last. “You can yell at me in the car for being a pushy asshole,” he said. “We’re out. Now.” Still holding on to her, he turned toward the door and then stilled, before turning them back to the ice cream. “Okay, don’t look, but the kid behind you—”

She craned her neck.

“Jesus, Tae, I said don’t look. The guy behind us might have a gun.”

“You mean the kid? He can’t be a day over fourteen.”

“A gun doesn’t give a shit about the age of the person holding it. Now here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take my hand and we’re going to walk out of here, easy-peasy.” He started to tug her along, but she dug in her heels, pulling free.

“And leave Ms. Riley alone to fend for herself?” she hissed.

He took her hand again. “No, we’ll take her too. But if she refuses, there’s a loaded shotgun under the counter, and trust me, she knows how to use it.”

True story. “You know she won’t budge from this store. I think she’s glued her ass to that seat. But I think you’re wrong about the kid.”

Riggs stared at her like no one had ever dared question him before. “And if he’s planning on using that gun to rob the place?”

“Maybe he’s just a kid trying to buy candy. Don’t be so quick to judge.”

“I’m not the judgy one here.”

She wasn’t even going to try and attempt to decipher that comment. Or the look in those eyes of his, which were a startling, almost hypnotic green.

She took another look around. There were no other customers in the store. Riggs was looking at Tae, or at least pretending to while actually eyeballing the mirror over the end of the aisle, which was giving him a bird’s-eye view of the checkout counter. They both watched the kid reach into his coat, but faster than a blink of an eye, Ms. Riley had her shotgun out and pointed at the kid’s nose.

“Go ahead, make my day, punk,” she said, not missing Clint Eastwood’s tone by all that much.

Here was the thing. Tae knew that the gun was all for show, that Ms. Riley, annoying as hell and mean as a snake, was not a murderer. She wasn’t going to shoot at the kid.

But obviously, the kid didn’t know that. He tried to make a run for it, making Riggs swear and head him off, with Tae right on his heels.

A shotgun blast sounded and ceiling-tile dust rained down on all of them. “There’s more where that came from!” Ms. Riley yelled, moving the gun so that it was always aimed at one of the three of them.

Tae couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ear from the close proximity to the shotgun blast. She’d instinctively jumped in front of the kid—while at the very same second, Riggs had slid his big body in front of hers.

“What kind of idiot jumps in front of a gun?” he growled at her.

“What kind of an idiot jumps in front of a woman who’s jumped in front of a gun?” she growled right back.

Riggs looked incredulous. “I was trained by Uncle Sam.”

“Yeah, and I got my education from the school of hard knocks. I’ve got this under control!” She looked at Ms. Riley. Not easy, since she had to peek around the stone wall that was Riggs, which meant the diminutive Ms. Riley now had her gun, Dirty Harry, pointed directly at his chest. “Okay, whoa,” Tae said as calmly as she could with her blood thundering in her ears. “Let’s all just calm down here and—”

“No.” Ms. Riley had her gun up to her cheek, one eye closed, the other clearly holding the three of them in her sights. “Hands up. All of you.”

The kid was frozen in place, visibly shaking as he raised his hands.

Ms. Riley narrowed her eyes at Tae. “I knew you were trouble. You’re with this little punk-ass thief, aren’t you.”

Tae had faced a lot of questionable circumstances in her life, several that she probably shouldn’t have lived through. She’d long ago decided she was like a cat and had nine lives. She sure as hell hoped she had at least one left. “Ms. Riley, please lower your gun.”