Page 28 of Breathe Me In

“No. Are you crazy? You think I’m gonna leave you alone in your truck in the middle of a parking lot in town?”

“No?” She peered over at me.

I wasn’t having it. “You’ll come back to my place, and I’ll drive you to your truck in the morning, then you can go home.”

“No, Brad, really, I’m fine. I’ve spent plenty of nights in my truck.”

“Great, but you’re not tonight.” I ignored her huff and drove. I pulled down my street and parked in the driveway.

“I see nothing’s changed.” She grabbed her bag and opened the door. “You’re still the same old Brad, bossy as ever.”

“And you’re still the same old Bree.” I got out, and we walked to the front door. I stopped before I opened it and looked down at the girl who used to stop my heart whenever she smiled at me. “Pain in my ass, fights me at every turn.”

“Like you’d want it any other way.” She arched a brow, and her eyes twinkled like they used to. Something inside me sparked, and I was taken aback by it. “You’ve never been a man that liked the woman in your life to be a doormat.” Bree knew me well, and I found it comforting.

“I like the women in my life to listen.” I poked at her feisty personality because it was fun with Bree. She made me feel youthful again, and that was something I’d suppressed for a long time.

“Give me a reason to listen, then.” She barely got the last word out when I stepped toward her, and she stepped back so her back hit the wall by the door. I hovered over her as she raised her chin to look straight into my eyes. Her smell engulfed me, and I gave in to it and bent down and pressed my lips just below her ear. Her breathing fluttered when I gently brushed my lips over her skin, giving in to a long-ago teenage crush. She didn’t pull away nor seem to care that we were on my front porch for all to see.

“I’m not a teenager anymore, Bree. I’m different from how I once was.” I pulled back a little and looked into her eyes.

She flattened her hands against my chest, and I closed my eyes, relishing how good her touch felt. “Do tell.” She grinned and gave me a sexy look.

“Don’t tempt me.” I darted my tongue and stole a quick taste of her sweet skin. She sucked in a sharp breath. Just as I was about to surrender to her, my front door swung open and there was my ex-wife shooting daggers at both of us.

“Sherry”—my voice fell flat—“I told you tonight wasn’t a good night, and where the hell is your car?”

“Down the street.” She lifted a shoulder as if it wasn’t a strange place for her to park instead of in the driveway. “I thought I heard someone out here.” She made a point of looking at Bree’s hands on me, so I stepped back and let them fall away. I didn’t want Bree on Sherry’s radar. “I made dinner for you.” She pointed over her shoulder, then moved her attention over to Bree.

“Sherry, I don’t appreciate you coming over like this.”

“Well look here, the rumor is true.” She ignored me. “Bree Jaminson is back in Sheffield.”

“Sherry Cummings.” Bree never could hide her dislike for Sherry. “I should get going.”

“No.” I took her bag from her arm and walked by Sherry, who gave me a confused look. “We have work to do, Sherry. Like I said on the phone, I’m very busy right now.” I didn’t miss the fact that Ginger lay on a mat near the door instead of her usual place on the couch.

“Busy doing what exactly?” Sherry tossed her words at Bree, then seemed to pull herself together. “Okay, okay.” She lifted her hands, not wanting to fight. “I’ll just set an extra spot for Bree.”

“No, really, I just called a ride. My truck’s only a couple streets away from the station.” Bree stood in the doorway looking beyond uncomfortable.

“Bree, get your ass inside the house before I bring it in myself,” I commanded, and she jumped inside. I hid my smirk. See? She can listen.

Chapter Six

Bree

Well, this is awkward as hell. I sat next to Sherry, who had made sure my place was set as far away from Brad as possible. My mind still raced with what had happened on the front porch. I didn’t say a word as she dumped a heaping pile of tuna casserole onto my plate like a prison cook. Ew.

“Bradley loves my cooking,” she said, filling the painful silence, and I moved the pile around and hoped she wouldn’t notice I wasn’t hungry. I took a tiny taste and felt my organs shrivel to dehydrated hockey pucks. “So”—her elbows landed on the table—“Bree, when did you get back in town?”

Brad spoke first. “A few days ago. She was asked to work with us on this new case. So remove your claws.” He shoved his chair back and took his plate in his hand. “I need salt.” Salt? The whole casserole is salty, with a questionable topping of tuna. I smirked when Brad tossed more than half of his serving into the compost bin, then covered it up with some carrot peelings. Wait! Is there carrot in this thing? I call bullshit on that.

“Oh, how lucky for the department to have you so ready to return.” She gave me a forced smile.

I cleared my throat, as my tolerance for this woman was nonexistent. “Yes, they are very lucky. I’m very good at my job.”

“I heard from Kennedy that you work with runaway kids. That’s actually really cool.”