Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,143

out his wallet and started peeling off bills. “Here’s two hundred. I’ll owe you for the rest. Your garage sale’s over. Get those friends of Dyma’s to take all that stuff to Goodwill or whatever.”

She looked at the money, but she didn’t take it. “I promised the couch to somebody. Her husband’s coming to get it at four.”

“Fine. Everything but the couch. And meanwhile, you can use those assistant skills of yours and find a moving company. Tell them you’ll pay a rush charge to get you out of here fast.”

“That is so pushy of you. All of it. I can handle my life. I’m handling my life!”

He set the bills down on her box, since she still wasn’t taking them. “I know you can. I see you doing it. But I’m not that guy. Mark.”

“I know you’re not. That’s obvious. Thanks for … for standing up for me out there.”

He put an arm around her, hugged her close, and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, well, see, that’s what a man does for the mother of his child.”

It took her a second. “Oh.”

“And that’s why I need to do this. Come on.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll get Dyma and Annabelle onto that ending-the-garage-sale thing, and then you and I can head out. Got a suitcase packed?”

“Uh … Yeah.” Wait, what?

“Good. Because we’re going to Blake’s resort for the night, and as soon as we’ve got the movers organized, Dyma’s driving your car to Portland with Annabelle—who’s a pretty damn good driver, in case you’re worrying, because you have to be, when you live out in the sticks in North Dakota—and you’re flying home with me.”

“What? That’s crazy. I’m not even five months pregnant. I’m fine. I’m great.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s see. How tired are you, exactly?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Yep. That’s why.”

“Seriously, though,” she said. “All of that is overkill. All right, it would be nice to have your help loading the truck, but we’ve got a plan. It’s only a seven-hour drive to Portland. Maybe a little more, with a U-Haul. We stop for lunch, and we’re there by five. One day. Well, unpacking, too, but that’s just one more day. Which I have off and then some, because I don’t start the job with Blake until Wednesday. If you want to help more, you could come with me and trade off on the driving. See, that’s how a guy helps. That’s normal helping.”

“Except that we’re not doing it for you,” Harlan said. “We’re doing it for me. I can’t let you do it alone, but I’m allergic to U-Hauls. That’s a what-do-you-call-it A conundrum. And besides, there’s this thing I like doing that I haven’t gotten to do at all lately, and it’s taking you to a resort. Swimming pool. Hot tub. Restaurant, too, where you can eat that filet mignon on a china plate. Thanks for that, by the way. Good to know I’m not bologna. No man wants to be bologna.”

“I can’t use a hot tub. It can raise the baby’s temperature.” She thought about the swimming pool, though. That sounded good. It sounded great. Her bikini would still fit, right? She even knew what box it was in. Well, the bottom would fit, anyway, because it would stretch, and as for the top … she’d just go on and rock that. She’d be with Harlan. Nobody was going to say anything disgusting to her, or if they did— This time, she would let him handle it. Plus, she wanted to see what he wore, and how he looked in it. That description of him on his lounge chair with a hand behind his head, needing a second pair of trunks to contain him …

No question, he was filet mignon. Smoldering or not, he worked for her. He worked for anybody. She wasn’t going to let herself touch, but she was oh-hell-yeah going to look. Hey. She had hormones.

And, yes, she’d worn that bikini about five times total, all of them when she wasn’t pregnant, and had felt self-conscious every time. She’d been crazy to buy the style she had, and let’s just say guys had stared. This was her new life, though. This was the new her. She was wearing her bikini, and if anybody didn’t want to look at her pregnant belly and her thighs and her butt, they could just look away.

“Oh,” Harlan said. “Well, all right. No hot tub. You’re going to have