Page 41 of Love Bomb

He scowled at them before turning back to Rona. “Let’s stick to the topic at hand. You’re here so we can plan the demolition. Nothing more, okay?”

“Absolutely,” she said solemnly. “Thank you for helping me with this. I promise to keep my gratitude under control from now on.”

He growled.

Conall piped up. “If you want to show me some gratitude, I’d be okay with that.”

“No,” Bain snapped. “No gratitude for anybody. Is that clear?”

Kade made a choking sound as he stood. “I’ll go make a pot of tea while you lot start going over everything.” He hurried from the room.

“Okay,” Rona said, settling into the empty sofa. “What’s the plan?”

She was wearing a pink sweater that looked like it was made of cotton candy. It should have clashed with her orange hair, but somehow didn’t. Instead, the pink brought out the color in her cheeks and made her green eyes sparkle like emeralds.

He liked the pink. He liked it a lot. And the sweater wasn’t half bad either. It looked soft, touchable, and it clung to her curves like a second skin. It made him want to⁠—

No!

No wanting.

He tore his eyes from the demon and moved to the other side of the room. As far away from her as he could get without leaving the living room entirely.

Rona smiled in his direction, and he had the feeling she knew what he was thinking. After the night he’d had, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she could read minds.

“Bain,” Darach said with emphasis. “You want to explain the plan to Rona?”

Damn it, he’d zoned out. How long had he been staring at her? This was humiliating.

Get a grip, Bain.

He straightened his shoulders. “Yes, the plan,” he said, trying to exude authority. “It’s simple. We plant explosives and bring the folly down.”

Lame, Bain, so lame.

It was Rona, she’d turned him into a moron.

She blinked several times, the smile still in place. “It’s genius. I’ve no idea why I didn’t think of it myself.”

Darach got to his feet and stalked to the TV, laptop in hand. Throwing a look of disgust in Bain’s direction, he brought up yet another one of his bloody spreadsheets.

“Let’s go into it in a little more detail, shall we?” he said to Rona.

Bain folded his arms and tried to focus on the screen. It was hard when the room seemed to be filled with the scent of Rona. Suddenly, the masculine house he shared with his two younger brothers smelled like a big city florist.

“So,” Darach said. “We have a wee logistical problem. Common sense says that the best time to blow the folly up is during the night. Less chance of anyone being injured and us being caught. But, because Bain sold you out to the historical society, the folly is now being watched around the clock.”

The screen changed and a photo of the folly appeared. It’d been taken the night before and posted on the town’s social media page that morning.

“As you can see,” Darach said. “The Domino Boys decided to put up a tent, to keep the guards warm while on night duty. According to their social media posts, after one night on the job, the Boys have decided they’re too old to stay out in the snow. The society has now hired a bunch of teenagers to take their place.”

“Archie and Findlay tried to guard the folly last night,” Conall said of the Domino Boys who were in their eighties. “Apparently, Findlay’s arthritis flared because of the cold, and he had to be carried home when his joints seized. Meanwhile, Archie had to keep leaving the tent to pee, which interfered with his guard responsibilities.”

“Unfortunately for us, the new teenage guards aren’t going to be distracted by arthritic pain or a weak bladder,” Darach said. “Which means we need to provide our own distraction to get them out of the way for the explosion.”

“Do you have something in mind for that?” Rona asked.

“We’re working on it,” Conall said. “We’re not entirely sure what would make a couple of teen boys leave their post in the middle of the night. I mean, they have a good thing going in the tent. They’ve got video games, phones, plenty of snacks, and a space heater. Not to mention, they’re making easy money on this gig. If I was them, it’d take a lot to get me to leave.”