Well Suited (Red Lipstick Coalition #4)(50)

“Heya, Kate.”

My smile was gone just like that, replaced by a scowl and an irrational urge to throw a book at Eagan.

“Katherine,” I corrected through my teeth.

“Steph’s been behind you all day.”

“Lucky for me, I don’t trust you and caught every offense you tried to pin on me.”

“Aw, come on. It’s just a game. If you’d go out with me, I’d probably stop.”

It was the third time he’d asked me out, and just like the other two, bile rose in my throat. “I’m pregnant with another man’s child.”

He shrugged. “Far as I’m concerned, that just means you put out.”

I gaped at him, and he laughed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m kidding, Kate.”

“Katherine, you plebeian.” I turned back to my shelf.

“Seriously, what’s that guy got that I don’t?”

“Besides respect for others?”

“Sure.”

I huffed. “For starters, a foot on your height and a foot that’d be in your ass if he saw you talking to me.”

“Jeez, so touchy.”

“I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man on Earth. I’d rather barbecue you and become a cannibal than save the species.”

“You say that now, but wait until Mr. Suit leaves you high and dry.”

“Mr. Suit? That’s the best you’ve got? Seriously, do you even read books, or do you just look at the pretty pictures? No wonder you put me in children’s. Must feel like home. Here, you can start with this one.”

I handed him a picture book, and he looked down at the title, frowning.

“Thomas and the Pee-Pee Problem.”

“Happy reading,” I said, grabbing the handle of my cart and steering myself away from him. “Try not to hurt yourself.”

I wheeled my cart away with my nose in the air and my mind full of expletives, noting the time as I passed one of the government clocks on the wall. One hour, and I’d be in Theo’s arms.

And that was just the motivation I needed to set a smile on my face as Eagan gaped at my stiff back from the children’s section, right where he belonged.



?





Theo

I sat in an ocean of crib pieces, Creedence Clearwater Revival bouncing out of my speaker. John Fogerty sang all about the bad moon rising, and flipping through eighteen pages of instructions, I had to agree.

The furniture had come while Katherine was at work, so I’d put it where we’d discussed, making a few executive decisions when things didn’t fit exactly as we’d thought they would. I went with my gut.

Hadn’t failed me yet.

I’d hoped to have the crib finished before Katherine got home, but judging by the number of screws and washers I had to get through, that wasn’t happening.

Two screws in, the doorbell rang.

I hopped up and trotted down the stairs. Ma and I had a deal that she wasn’t to answer the door when I was home. Problem was, Ma didn’t listen and hated losing her independence, so if I didn’t hurry, I’d find her hurrying, a sight that never ceased to leave me imagining her falling. Her reflexes were too slow now for her to hurry anywhere.

But when I entered the living room, she was nowhere to be found.

And thank fucking God. Because what I found on my stoop would have put her in an early grave.

“Heya, Teddy.”

John Banowski’s voice was deep, weathered by years and roughed by cigarettes, one of which hung from the smirking seam of his lips.

Rage, deep and unbridled, tore loose under every square inch of my skin. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked with fake, flattened distance, stepping out to close the door behind me.

Six years hadn’t aged him much, though his hair was shot with silver, the creases around his eyes deeper. He was a beast, imposing in stature, aggressive in stance, handsome in spite of it all.

“Is your ma home?”

“None of your fucking business. Now tell me what you want or get the fuck off my stoop.”

“Came to ask you about this.” He shifted, reaching behind him to pull something from his back pocket. His hand reappeared with a folded, slightly dirty pack of papers. “Fuck is this, Ted? I thought we had a deal, and here I get divorce papers.” He waved them in case I hadn’t picked up on what they were.

“We do have a deal. That doesn’t mean Ma can’t have what she wants. What the hell do you care anyway?”

“You’re tryin’ to squeeze me out. I read the story in the paper Tommy’s little creampuff wifey wrote, tellin’ the world about his poor old ma. You think you can get ridda me by telling the papers all the goods you’ve been paying me to keep quiet? You think your ma can send me these papers, and you’ll be through with me? You think I don’t still have leverage? ’Cause there’s no need for Tommy’s secrets anymore. I’ve got one better—you.”

“Nobody’s trying to squeeze you out,” I said with a tight jaw. “Nothing’s changed. But if you’re stupid enough to tell Ma and Tommy about our deal, it will be over.”

He took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke in my face. “The second you quit with the checks, this’s the first place I’ll come. Can’t imagine what Tommy’ll think about you payin’ me hush money all these years.”