“He and his brothers are bazillionaires,” Maria said, “and money builds power. Let me put it to you this way; those brothers have more money and influence than Vicious, and that’s key. If Hunt is sincere—and from what you’ve said, I believe he is—he’ll hold up his end of the bargain.”
Abby rubbed her forehead and glanced at Noah. “I can’t pass it up, can I?”
Maria pushed Abby’s full glass of wine closer. “Not if you’re smart.”
Chapter 15
It was Monday and Abby had it off, so she’d kept Noah out of Club Kids for the day. She planned to play with him and get housework done. She’d love to skip the housework portion, but Noah was out of underwear and Abby didn’t even want to consider what kind of negligence Vivian would claim over that one. Besides, Abby was out of clean scrubs, so it was all-around dire straits in the laundry department.
“What do you feel like for breakfast? Waffles or pancakes?” she asked Noah.
He rubbed his eyes, wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He’d just emerged from his bedroom after sleeping in until eight, thank the universe. “Pancakes with extra syrup,” he said in a sweet, groggy voice, and flung himself face-first onto the couch.
“You got it.” Abby was more optimistic this morning than she’d been in a long time. She didn’t feel so backed to the wall. Abby had options. True, they involved a man she barely knew, but Hunt was offering a tempting alternative to the daily struggle she’d met for years.
She scrolled until she found an old playlist with Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” on it and cranked up her phone, swinging her hips as she prepped the pancake batter.
Giggles ensued from behind the counter, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“You’re funny, Mommy.” Noah was grinning, his knees tucked up near his chin. “Why are you dancing?”
“Because we’re going to eat pancakes and Aretha is playing.” She lifted the stirring spoon to her mouth like a microphone and lip-synced the chorus.
Noah jumped up and jerked his narrow hips while hopping around the living room. “R, E, S, Peee, C, P,” he shouted.
Abby laughed at her son’s slaughter of the lyrics. “You’ve got moves, little man. Just wait until the girls see how well you dance. They won’t know what hit them.”
Noah jumped onto the couch and shook his hips to the beat, kicking his leg in the air in a karate move.
Laughing, Abby turned and carefully poured the batter onto the grill she’d preheated. She set the bowl down and spun just in time for the next chorus, with a spoon to her mouth, eyes closed for emphasis.
Only, when she opened her eyes, Noah wasn’t alone.
“Gah!” Abby yelled, and stumbled back.
Hunt stood across the counter from her, arms crossed, feet spread apart. He quirked his eyebrow.
Noah stood next to him in an identical posture. Only he was unable to keep a straight face.
Abby set the spoon on the counter and quickly wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “What are you doing here?”
“Big Aretha fan, eh?” Hunt asked.
Noah dropped to the floor in a fit of giggles.
She frowned at her son then looked back at Hunt. “Do you always walk into people’s homes unannounced?”
Hunt stepped toward the front door and appeared to be checking the doorknob and lock. “Came by to fit the front and back doors with a chain lock. I noticed there wasn’t one the last time I was here.” He finished his inspection and looked back. “I would suggest you change the locks so thatcertain peoplewith access can’t just walk in whenever they feel like it.” He sent her a knowing look.
Vivian,she thought, remembering how she’d told Hunt that she’d stupidly given Vivian a key to her home years ago.
“But I don’t think your landlord would appreciate that,” he said, and looked past her toward the stovetop. “I called,” he said, seemingly distracted by the food. “And knocked. Your performance must have muffled the sound. You don’t check your phone very often, do you?”
Busted.
“Besides,” he said, “once Noah started shouting about PCP and drugs, I thought I should check in on things and make sure everything was okay. Your door was unlocked, by the way.”
She twisted her mouth in annoyance. “First of all, I’m home. Sometimes I leave the door unlocked during the day. Second, Noah’s five. He got the lyrics wrong. And getting back to your purpose here, I can’t install a chain on my door. My landlord wouldn’t like that any better than changing the locks.”
