Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,128

and flipping the switch.

She didn’t want to care.

How could she not?

39

Not Eating the Lasagna

The last day of April, and it felt, finally, like spring was … well, not here, but like it might eventually show up. It had perversely decided to snow last week instead, but today, Jennifer had seen daffodils.

Saturday evening, and Dakota and Blake had come over for dinner. It wasn’t exactly the most professional way to ask your former boss for a job, but Blake hadn’t been in Wild Horse much. He and Dakota were mostly in Portland now, but they were in town for the weekend, and you had to grab your chances where you found them.

And if she thought he’d be less likely to say no in front of her grandpa, well … just because she’d never been good at manipulation, that didn’t mean she couldn’t start. Thirty-four wasn’t too late to become a powerfully feminine maneater and a hard-driving development professional, right?

She’d probably better not answer that.

Also, she had the answer to that paternity test, and so, presumably, did Harlan. She hadn’t heard from him since her own copy of the results had arrived five days earlier, though, which pretty much spoke for itself. She needed to make the announcement tonight, because there was no way she could ask for a job without telling Blake the truth about the maternity leave she was going to need. And then there was Dyma, who was going to be another issue entirely. She’d rather get it all done at once.

It wasn’t happening yet, but they’d just started eating. Plenty of time.

Dyma was asking, “What are you working on now, Dakota?” Dakota was talking about a fern series in stained glass and how she could suggest raindrops, which all sounded very Portland-like, Blake was looking proud of her, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face, and Jennifer was half-listening, but mostly working up her courage. Which was why, when the doorbell rang, she jumped.

“You expecting somebody?” Oscar asked.

“Probably for Dyma,” Jennifer said. In fact, Dyma was already up. Not quite as excited as she would have been if she’d thought it could be Owen paying a surprise visit, but that was because Dyma herself had told him to stay away.

“I’ve got four AP exams starting in two weeks,” she’d told him over another family dinner last weekend. “And I’ve got to nail all of them. Once I’m done, though, if you want to come up …” She’d given him the kind of sidelong look Jennifer still hadn’t perfected. “We could go … hiking.”

Dyma was definitely working on her powerfully-feminine moves, and from what Jennifer could see, Owen’s resistance was wearing thin. He was still resisting, though. Thank goodness, because Dyma sure wasn’t.

Some exclaiming from out there. Girls’ voices. Not Owen, then.

Another voice. A male one, smooth as dark caramel.

Oh, boy.

Why?

When Harlan pulled to a stop at the address Owen had given him, outside a shabby blue duplex that was never going to be featuring in the Luxury Homes book, Annabelle was still saying, “Why do we have to do this in person? And what is it you’re doing?”

Harlan said, “I’m going to let you know in a minute,” and tried to calm his racing heart.

Game face, he told himself as he headed up the walk, then decided, Wait. No. That’s not going to work. You’re not trying to scare her.

He had no face for this.

A wait at the door, and then Dyma opening it. Same lively little face, same blonde hair, cut even more daringly now, because she’d gone even further in the “undercut” direction. Same piercings in her eyebrow. She exclaimed at sight of Annabelle, gave her an exuberant hug, and said, “I didn’t know you were coming! Hey, if you’re staying the night, we should go see this show. We could still make it. Some friends of mine are into drama, and they’re doing an experimental thing. My mom’s having this dinner first, though. It’s lasagna, so if you haven’t eaten …”

Harlan had tuned out long since. His pulse was galloping like he was about to run out of the tunnel, and if real life allowed it, he’d have been doing some running and jumping to bleed off the adrenaline. Instead, he thought, You’ve decided. This is the easy part, and told Dyma, “I came to talk to your mom.”

“Well, I figured,” Dyma said. “Unless you came to talk to Blake.”

“No,” Harlan said.

“Well, too bad,” Dyma said, “because he’s here.”

Which, yes,