Meanwhile, TJ brings in the chicken wings and takes my pies and cake to the table. I bring out plates and utensils, blushing as Josie recounts my romantic missteps. Josie and Cassie bring drinks to the table, and we all finally sit down.
“And now he’s back in her life,” TJ says when Josie’s finished telling the story.
Cassie’s eyes widen. “What? No!”
Josie turns to me. “Are you dating him again?”
“No. You know me better than that.” I grab a chicken wing and bite into it. The spicy sauce is perfect. I’ve begged TJ for the recipe, but he refuses. Says we can swap wings for pies.
“But he wants to?” Josie asks, reaching for the chicken.
“Well…yes. But that doesn’t mean I will.”
“Did he say why he didn’t come to the bakery opening?” Cassie takes a sip of her lemonade.
“No. And I’m sure he won’t. He didn’t really explain himself when he didn’t come to the hospital to pick me up after I got shot, either.”
“That motherfucker.” TJ bites into the biggest slice of an apple pie. He is a firm believer in “eat pie first.”
“Did he at least apologize?” Josie asks.
“Not really. I mean, he said he was sorry, but then ruined it by saying he didn’t want me to accept the apology if it meant never seeing me again. What the hell kind of contrition is that?”
“Shoulda shot him when you had the chance,” TJ says.
Cassie blinks. “Shothim?”
“I thought he was an intruder when I saw him a few weeks ago.”
“Perfect opportunity,” TJ says, shrugging.
“I’m not shooting someone just because I don’t like him! Besides, if I’d shot him, I’d have to see him even more because we’d be involved with the police and lawyers. Ugh. No, thank you.”
TJ gazes off into the distance. “Depends onwhereyou shot him…”
“You deserve better.” Josie’s voice is firm. “You deserve somebody who’s going to be around, give you stability.” She knows about my complicated feelings about my father and his absences. She’s also aware that Mom was a bit hot and cold with me. She wasn’t abusive or anything, but there were times she looked at me like she didn’t recognize me. It never failed to make me uncomfortable, and recalling that now gives me that unsettled feeling again.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I mean, even Reggie seems to have found the love of her life. I can, too.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Bobbi
I have the empty cake and pie containers under one arm as I unlock the house after returning from TJ’s place. All of a sudden, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, sending a chill down my spine. I stop and look around. It’s late in the evening, and the streetlights are on, creating little halos of orange. Nobody’s around. People are either in for the night or out partying and clubbing if that’s the plan. Nothing seems amiss on the street; nobody’s having people over.
Still, something feels off.
Weird. Am I just getting rusty after leaving the personal protection biz? My senses were always on alert during my years as a bodyguard. But I quit being so jumpy after I became a baker.
If this were a rougher neighborhood, I might assume I was about to get mugged. But it isn’t.
Maybe it’s talking about Noah and Reggie that’s left me feeling unsettled. I turn the doorknob and step inside. The chilly sensation intensifies.
Somebody’s in the house.
I put the boxes on the tall stand by the door where I drop my keys and mail. Whistling softly, I flip the light switch by the foyer, flooding the entryway with light.
“Señor Mittens, where are you?” My voice is casual as I start toward the kitchen to grab the Glock.
