Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,144

to educate me on this stuff. This time, though, I’m playing it safe and asking for plastic glasses. I can’t afford to have a heart attack before the season even starts. Not if I’m going to be a father.”

45

Resort Wear

It took hours to arrange for all of that and haul all Jennifer’s extra stuff to a secondhand store, especially since he had to stop her from carrying too much about twenty times in there, and it was nearly five by the time they were checking into three rooms at the Wild Horse Resort. One for Annabelle and Dyma, and one each for him and Jennifer. Connecting, because, hey, a guy could hope. If he was filet mignon … a pregnant woman needed some good red meat.

He wasn’t pushing it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be open to the possibility.

Dyma said, once the clerk had handed over the keys, “Awesome. Let’s go swimming at the beach, Annabelle.”

“If your friend’s suit really fits me, sure,” Annabelle said.

“The lake is about fifty degrees,” Jennifer said. “It’s barely May.”

“So we jump in, and then we run back as fast as we can and get in the sauna,” Dyma said. “It’s sort of a fun-torture thing. You know, like all that stuff you definitely never do.” She widened her eyes at her mother. “The video’s already on Instagram,” she informed her. “It’s had over twelve thousand views already, too, because they tagged Harlan. Filet mignon? You seriously said that? You were actually uninhibited, and without any wine or pain pills, even. It was awesome.”

Harlan could see Jennifer opening her mouth to explain to Annabelle about her lack of an opioid addiction, and he was possibly also thinking that Dyma clearly didn’t know about her mother’s secret, dirty little piercing, or the way she could straddle a man and pull a gauzy nightgown right over her head like the most wanton little teasing redhead a guy could ever hope to have in his bed. Which would make him, yeah, the only person in the world who knew her secret self. It also occurred to him that he hadn’t had a chance to explore that secret self nearly enough, what exactly filet mignon might entail, and what else she’d like to see on the menu, which he’d have thought about more …

… but Dyma was still talking. “I loved the bologna sandwich, though. See, I knew that, and I was never even, you know, informed. No guy who eats as fast as Mark and likes chili from the can better than homemade could possibly be any good at sex. And I’m not even mentioning the other stuff you shared. Mark’s going to be reliving that sick burn all week long in the deputy’s locker room, or whatever it is, and Annabelle probably wants to burn her ears. Talk about TMI.”

“Hey,” Harlan said, “it’s better than her brother being the bologna sandwich.”

Jennifer said, “This is such an inappropriate conversation. Boundaries.” But, Harlan thought, she was trying not to laugh. As for Annabelle, she looked a little shocked, but she was laughing. “Also,” Jennifer said, “Harlan and I are just friends now.”

“Uh-huh,” Dyma said. “Yeah. That’s happening. It’s worked great so far, right? ”

“So we’ll see you guys in a while,” Harlan said, in what he hoped was a casual manner. “For dinner.”

“Nope,” Dyma said. “We’re doing our own thing.”

Jennifer said, “Exactly what does that mean?”

Dyma sighed. “That we’re going to be mainlining heroin and getting matching full-back tattoos. Excuse me? Twelve AP classes here? High-school graduate, pretty much? Nineteen in a couple months? Oh, and one more—how about NFL-star boyfriend who’s the hottest man who ever existed, meaning guaranteed inoculation against any guy in or around Wild Horse High?”

“You’re still living with me, though,” Jennifer said. “And Annabelle’s still living with Harlan. Better rein in that independence, sister.”

“Fine,” Dyma said. “Here’s our scandalous program. We go swimming and hang out in the sauna, and possibly flirt a little if there’s anybody in there under thirty, but I keep Annabelle from throwing herself at anyone, since she’s obviously so extra, and definitely not a conservative jock from North Dakota like somebody else I could mention. We eat dinner in the restaurant, daringly ordering anything we want and charging it to the room, because Harlan’s got a thing about paying, and unlike some people, we’re willing to go along with what a person obviously wants to do already. Then we walk to his theater and meet my friends for the