Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,142

And Harlan.”

“Harlan and your mom are kicking your mom’s old boyfriend to the curb,” Annabelle said. “It was epic. You missed it.”

“We’re posting it, Dyma,” one of the girls called out. “So you can see it. It was great.”

Mark pulled his shirt down around himself and said, “Good riddance. I can do better, too.”

“Yeah,” Harlan said. “That’s why you came over to beg her to take you back. There’s no ‘better,’ man. She’s as good as it gets, and you let her go. Your loss.”

Mark looked like he still wanted to say something, but he glanced at the cameras, told Jennifer, “You’ll be back, but don’t come crawling to me,” and left, getting up into the kind of truck that made you wonder what he was compensating for and gunning it down the street.

Harlan said, “Well, that was extremely exciting. How about if we go put some ice on that, uh … bruise? That looked like it hurt. And while we do that, you can tell me why you’re out on the sidewalk selling your stuff when you promised me you’d be taking it easy. I can’t wait to hear this.”

44

Bees in the Brain

She told Harlan, as he led her into the house, “I’m shaking. It’s like I’ve got bees in my brain. I could hit something. I could hurt something.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, “I think you already did. I’d call that a mortal blow to the ego. How much does that hurt?”

Oh. She had her hand on her breast. “Some. Oh—” She turned and called to Dyma, “You’re in charge for a little while, OK?”

Dyma waved at her, and Annabelle called out, “We’ve got it.”

They got into the apartment, and Harlan said, “Well, hell. Nothing but boxes in here.” He sat her down on a stack of two of them. “Right. Ice. Hang on.”

When he came back with a handful of ice wrapped in paper towels, she eyed it and said, “That’s going to hurt worse.”

“Ten minutes. You OK? Is there any … any danger in getting hit there, with pregnancy? Should I take you to the doctor? Man, I wish I’d taken him out. If you hadn’t stepped in there, I would’ve done it. ”

“I’m sure it’s fine. It just hurts more than usual, that’s all. Ow. And no, you shouldn’t have taken him out. Not on camera. How would that look? Also, he’s a cop. Well, a sheriff’s deputy. Which would make it a very bad idea.”

“I don’t care. It would’ve been worth it.” He sat down on a neighboring stack of boxes. “So. Garage sale. Why, exactly? I told you, you can store your stuff at my place. I’ve got a six-car garage, and I don’t have six cars.”

She sighed. All of a sudden, she was so tired. Of course, that tended to happen when you’d been packing every night after work, and you’d gotten up at five this morning to set up for your garage sale. “Where do you think this furniture came from? I saved everything that’s worth anything, or that I actually like. For the rest—I’ll go to more garage sales and thrift stores, that’s what, once I move out of your place. Which is three months after the baby, I’ve decided. I’m giving myself a maternity leave, but at the end of January, I’m gone, and we both … move on into our next chapter. Meanwhile, this is recyclable furniture, and I’m recycling it. Anyway, there’s only so big a U-Haul I’m willing to drive.”

He said, “I knew I should’ve said more about this. All of this. I should’ve asked more. Why would you be driving a U-Haul in the first place?”

“Uh … because I’m moving?”

“Here’s a concept. Movers? What part of, ‘I’ll pay for the move’ didn’t you get? Also—who exactly were you figuring would be loading this U-Haul?”

She spread her arms wide, and an ice cube dropped to the floor with a musical ting. “You’re looking at her. Well, Dyma and me, and a couple of Dyma’s friends. They helped move the furniture out to the street this morning.”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening. This is why I came. I had a bad feeling.” He looked around. “Where were you planning to sleep tonight?”

“Grandpa’s. We’re loading up in the morning.”

He looked her over. Too closely, as far as she was concerned. She said, “What?”

He stood up. “Nope. Just—no. To all of that. That’s a hard no. How much were you aiming to make on that garage sale?”

“Six hundred. I hope.”

He pulled