Breathless_ Steel Brothers Saga - HELEN HARDT Page 0,33

relieved.”

“We all are,” I said.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” she said. “I’m feeling a little bit better morning sickness-wise.”

I eyed her.

“Just trying to look on the bright side. God knows we all need to be doing that these days.”

“True enough,” I agreed. “I’ve got a few errands to run. I’ll check in on you when I get home, okay? Unless you need me now?”

“Don’t be silly. Your brother’s been hovering over me like a hawk. I’ll be fine. I need to go home, see my boys—”

“They’re at school,” I reminded her.

“Right. I’ve got pregnancy brain.” She laughed.

“I can grab them from school on my way home if you want.”

“No. Let them finish the day. I’m just being a little overly emotional.”

I smiled. “I think you’re entitled.”

Talon revved the engine a little.

“That must be my cue to let you guys go.” I leaned in and kissed Jade’s cheek. “I’ll be home soon.”

They drove off toward the ranch.

I didn’t actually have a lot of errands, just a stop to pick up some of my favorite moisturizer that had run out a few days ago. That would take five minutes.

I stood right in the middle of downtown Snow Creek, Colorado. A sweet little town—or so we’d all thought, until we learned our mayor and my esteemed uncle, our city attorney, had been leading double psycho lives. You’d miss it if you took a long blink while driving through. I was parked on a side street. Parking on the main drag was almost always impossible. The small gym where I’d worked out was a few buildings down from the smoothie shop. Only a block away began the residential area, and who should live right on that first block?

Bryce Simpson.

The Simpson house.

I could walk there in less than five minutes. I could knock on the door. Bryce would be home, unless he was still at our house meeting with Joe and Ryan. I checked my watch. After one o’clock. Surely he’d be home by now.

My feet itched to move.

But he’d made his position very clear. He might be attracted to me, but he didn’t want a relationship.

I was twenty-five years old. Still young. I didn’t need to find “the one” anytime soon. I didn’t need to have kids anytime soon. I had two nephews, and soon I’d have two more. I could be a doting aunt and not have any of the actual responsibility.

Could I be satisfied with a purely sexual relationship? Even if I could, would Bryce be open to it? He’d probably spew a bunch of “I can’t just fuck my best friend’s sister” crap at me.

I touched my lips lightly. I could still feel his passionate kiss, still feel his lips on my body, still feel his erection inside me, easing the empty ache.

Again, my feet twitched. So easily I could let them walk the block and a half to Bryce’s home. So easily I could knock on that door, look into those sparkling blue eyes, see how much he still wanted me.

And he’d want me. Sex and passion like we’d shared doesn’t always happen, and it sure hadn’t been one-sided.

I sighed.

And then I let my feet move forward.

Chapter Twenty

Bryce

Not a number I recognized. I nodded to my mother and walked away from her to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Is this Bryce Simpson?”

“Speaking. Who is this?”

“Ted Morse, Mr. Simpson.”

Morse. Right. The big-time banker father of Colin Morse, my father’s final victim.

I cleared my throat. “What can I do for you?”

“You can meet with me. I have information you’re going to want.”

He did? “Why don’t you tell me over the phone? I’m listening.”

“This is sensitive information.”

“So? I assure you my phone is not tapped.”

“How can you be so sure? The FBI is probably watching everyone associated with Mathias, Wade, Madigan, and your father.”

I moved my phone away from my ear and stared at it. Was I bugged? Could a cell phone be bugged? I had no idea. Morse was probably pulling my leg, but could I take that chance? I put the phone back to my ear. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me. The Feds are always listening. I won’t speak of this over the phone.”

“Well, if they are listening, they now know you have information for me.”

No response.

Did this guy think I was stupid?

“This conversation is over,” I said, ending the call.

Yeah, hanging up was immature, but I had enough on my mind. First, the Feds had no reason to be watching me. I was not my father, and my father was dead and cremated.