I allowed myself two minutes of distraction, thinking about Bodie Chase with his mesmerizing eyes and corded muscles. He and I had flirted—just a little bit—a couple of times when our paths had crossed and Livy hadn’t been present. It would have been so easy to give in to the temptation to do more than flirt, but I needed to keep my life focused on Livy.
Besides, I couldn’t trust my judgment when it came to men. I wouldn’t have been in such a precarious financial situation if my ex hadn’t run off with my life savings. I should have seen through him before he had a chance to leave me practically penniless, but in true Emersyn style, I’d remained clueless until it was too late.
So now I’d sworn off men, at least until Livy was older and I was wiser. If the latter ever happened.
Before my thoughts about Bodie strayed into X-rated territory, I forced myself up off the couch and reminded Livy to brush her teeth. After we’d read to each other from books of her choice, I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and shut off the light.
“Sweet dreams, Livysaurus,” I said, lingering in her bedroom doorway.
“Night night, Auntie Emersyn,” she replied, as she did every evening.
My heart swelled as she snuggled beneath the covers with her purple dinosaur stuffie and closed her eyes. A surge of fierce love for my niece took my breath away. It was quickly followed by a wave of grief so strong that it nearly made me gasp.
I backed out of Livy’s bedroom and shut the door all but a crack.
My life might have been a hot mess, and I was probably in grave danger of having my Competent Adult card revoked, but I knew without a doubt that I’d do everything in my power to keep that little girl safe, healthy, and happy. Which meant I needed a plan, and fast.
Chapter
Two
“What dish is best served cold?” My best friend, Jemma Ghosh, asked the question from across the small table in the busy coffee shop.
“Gazpacho?” I guessed.
Jemma rolled her eyes before removing a box from her oversize handbag and plunking it down in the middle of the table. “Revenge.”
I took a sip of my caffè mocha—Jemma insisted on treating me—and eyed the box with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “I thought you were getting me ready for another job as a restaurant server.”
“I’m not sure that’s the industry for you.”
I nearly shuddered at the parade of memories marching through my head: broken dishes, annoyed customers, an exasperated Chad.
“You might be right,” I conceded. “But I need a job of some sort. And soon.”
“Let’s get back to my plan first,” Jemma said, tapping the box with a perfectly manicured magenta fingernail. “After all, it’s only partly about revenge and mostly about getting your money back.”
That got my attention. “From Hoffman?” Hoffman Fisher, aka my ex-boyfriend, the snake who’d stolen my life savings.
Actually, it wasn’t nice to call him a snake. There was no reason for me to go around insulting reptiles like that.
“You’re going to scare him into returning every penny.”
“I’m intrigued,” I admitted. Then I eyed the box again, lowering my voice to a whisper. “But please tell me there’s not a gun in there.” The last thing I needed was someone calling the cops on us.
“Damn,” my friend said. “I should’ve brought one of those too.”
“Jemma,” I said without humor.
“Just kidding. Sort of.” She removed the lid from the box with a flourish. “Check it out.”
I peered into the box, half expecting something with sharp teeth to leap out at me. Luckily, nothing stirred inside. The box held several stacks of identical business cards. Completely harmless, from what I could tell. I removed one from the box, running my thumb over the embossed lettering.
Wyatt Investigations.
Discretion, Expertise, Results.
Below those words was a phone number.
