This Heart of Mine (Chicago Stars #5)(105)

"Yeah, well, I'd say he has."

"He's not well, Eddie. It's a mental problem. As soon as we get back to Chicago, I'll make sure he gets psychotherapy."

"Shit." He sucked in his breath. "This is gonna blow the hell out of his passing game."

"I'll find a sports psychotherapist."

Eddie wasn't a complete fool, and he asked her about the underground dump. She expanded her story to include as many buzz words from Erin Brockovich as she could still remember and made up the rest. When she was done, she dug her fingernails into her palms and waited.

"You sure about all this?" he finally said.

"I wish I weren't."

He shuffled his feet and sighed. "Thanks, Maggie. I 'predate it. You're all right."

She slowly released the breath she'd been holding. "You, too, Eddie. You, too."



The storm hit just after Molly collapsed in bed, but she was so tired she barely heard it. It wasn't until the next morning when a series of thuds on the front steps awakened her that she forced open her eyes. She blinked and looked at her clock. It was after nine! She'd forgotten to set her alarm, and no one had awakened her. Who'd fixed breakfast?

"Molly!"

Uh-oh…

Roo scampered into the room, and then Kevin appeared looking like a gorgeous storm cloud. So much for hoping the loopholes in her plan wouldn't come back to haunt her. Eddie must have confronted Kevin after all, and now there was going to be hell to pay.

She sat up in bed. Maybe she could distract him. "Just let me brush my teeth, soldier boy, and then I'll take you to paradise."

"Molly…" His voice sounded a low warning note, the same note she'd heard on Nick at Nite when Desi confronted Lucy. Molly had some 'splainin' to do.

"I have to pee!" She jumped up, flew past him to the bathroom, and shut the door.

The flat of his hand smacked the panel. "Come out here!"

"In a minute. Did you want something?"

"Yeah, I want something, all right. I want an explanation!"

"Oh?" She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the worst.

"I want you to explain why there's a frickin' tuna in my lake!"





Chapter 23


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It's true. Guys don't think the same way girls do, and this can lead to trouble.



"When Guys Won't Listen"

for Chik





Oh, boy… Molly stalled as long as she could—brushing her teeth, splashing water on her face, straightening her tank top, and retying the drawstring on her pajama bottoms. She half expected him to charge in after her, but apparently he didn't see the need, since the window had been painted shut and the only other way out was through him.

A bath was too much to hope for. Besides, it was way past time to face the music. She'd edged open the door and saw him leaning against the opposite wall ready to pounce. "Uh… what were you saying?"

He carved out the words with his teeth. "Would you care to explain why, when I walked down to the beach after breakfast this morning, I found a dead tuna floating in the lake?"

"A change in fish migration patterns?"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the front room. Another bad sign. At least in the bedroom she'd have had a fighting chance.

"I seriously doubt that migration patterns are going to change enough for a saltwater fish to end up in a freshwater lake!" He pushed her down onto the couch.

She should have gone back to the lake last night and fished out the fish, but she'd assumed they'd stay where they were until they sank. They probably would have if it hadn't been for the storm.

Okay, enough messing around. Time for some righteous indignation. "Really, Kevin, just because I happen to be brighter than you doesn't mean I know everything about fish."

Probably not her best strategy, because his words bristled with splinters. "Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you don't know anything about how a tuna got in that lake?"

"Well…"

"Or that you don't know why Eddie Dillard came up to me this morning and told me he wasn't going to buy the campground after all?"

"He did?"

"And what do you think he said to me before he drove away?"

"Just a guess: 'You duh man'?"

His eyebrows shot up and his voice grew as soft as an assassin's footsteps. "No, Molly, he didn't say that. What he said was 'Get some help, man!' "

She winced.

"Now what do you suppose he meant?"

"What was it he said again?" she croaked.

"Exactly what did you tell him?"

She fell back on the Calebow kids' technique. "Why do you think I told him something? There are lots of people here who could have said something to him—Troy, Amy, Charlotte Long. It's not fair, Kevin. Every time something happens around here, you blame me."

"And why do you think that might be?"

"I have no idea."

He leaned down, braced both his hands on her knees, and brought his face inches from hers. "Because I've got your number. And I've got all day."