Liz Talley – A Touch of Scarlet (страница 9)

“This conversation is over. Our relationship is over. Don’t call me again.” Pain ripped across his chest at her words. They were the same words she’d battered him with every time they fought. She threw up her less than advantageous background. She threw up his wealthy family connections. And she threw up the baby who had never been born. The baby who had slipped away two weeks after they’d gotten married at the courthouse.

“You mean, until you’re ready to get busy,” she said, her tone low and mean.

“That was a mistake I won’t be making again. You’re a beautiful woman, Angi, but you were right from the beginning. We don’t belong together. We never did. Don’t call back.”

He pressed the end button before he said anything more. Anger, regret and guilt twisted in his gut, and his fist itched to connect with something. He stared at the silent office before shoving his chair from his desk and grabbing the hat he’d earlier tossed onto the table beside the battle-scarred door.

He felt twitchy and restless. Only one solution for that.

Strip down and go toe-to-toe with someone.

The image of Scarlet Rose with arched back and jutting breasts flashed across his mind. Not exactly what he had in mind.

He needed a fight. Not a woman.

He punched the numbers on his cell phone. The ones that would bring him needed release. Then he’d call Jared back to the station to cover. He needed to pound the frustrations from his body and then he could do another sweep of the town.

If he got lucky, he might find that damned pig.

CHAPTER FOUR

SCARLET STARED AT HER PLATE before sliding her gaze to where her eight-year-old nephew sat chomping happily on Pop-Tarts. “What’s the white stuff in the eggs?”

Henry shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Probably goat cheese. She likes to put that in everything.”

“Bluck.”

Her sister’s new husband glanced at her before redirecting his attention to the freshly squeezed orange juice sitting at his elbow. “Thought city slickers liked fancy eggs.”

“You thought wrong.” Scarlet couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. She didn’t want to talk to Brent Hamilton. She edged one shoulder forward, effectively cutting him out of her world. She scooted closer to her nephew, who stuffed his frosted pastry in his mouth, though he eyed her a bit warily. Guess he thought she might go after his breakfast. She was tempted. “Are you supposed to be eating those? I thought your mom wouldn’t allow you to eat anything with chemical crap in it.”

Henry slid his gaze to Brent, who had, for the most part, ignored her after her venomous comeback. And she, too, had tried to pretend he wasn’t sitting kitty-corner from her, but that mission remained unsuccessful. For one thing, Brent was a good six-three and easily weighed two hundred and thirty pounds. For another, he was the type of guy who attracted attention as naturally as he breathed. With his dark wavy hair, icy-blue eyes and rugged good looks, he’d been popular with the ladies of Howard County for excellent reason.

She wished her parents had stayed at the inn instead of with a friend outside town. Nothing like Moon-beam—or whatever her mother was known as these days—to bring serenity to a table. Her mother preferred silent contemplation during meals.

“Pop-Tarts every now and then won’t hurt,” Brent said, meeting her gaze. He didn’t look afraid of her. More as if he didn’t want to bother with her.

“Oh, really?” Scarlet challenged, for no other reason than she was pissed she had to eat goat-cheese eggs with a man she knew was going to break her sister’s heart…if not give her VD.

He didn’t blink. “Yeah, really.”

“At it already, I see,” Rayne said as she breezed into the breakfast room. She looked gorgeous in a ruffled skirt and sleeveless lawn blouse with tiny roses embroidered along the neck. Her copper curls tumbled around her shoulders, framing her smiling face. Rayne looked…in love.

“Morning,” Rayne said, scooping an arm around her son and dropping a kiss on his head. She snagged a corner off the pastry and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm, strawberry. My favorite.”

Scarlet gaped. Her sister never ate anything that wasn’t “of the earth.” Which certainly did not include anything that came in a box or contained frosting and dyes.

Rayne moved on to her husband, grazing his scruffy cheek with a light kiss. “Morning to you, too. Again.”

A devilish light appeared in Brent’s eyes. Scarlet wanted to barf.

“Morning, baby,” he said, tugging her toward him so he could cop a cheap feel. Okay. Maybe a pat on the bottom wasn’t a cheap feel. Maybe it was a sweet display of affection. And maybe Kim Kardashian would win an Oscar.

“You, too, Scarlet,” Rayne said with a little smug smile.

Did she think the little display of family bonding would suddenly change Scarlet’s opinion on the bone-head decision her sister had made in marrying Brent? Scarlet wasn’t that easy. Even if some people thought she was.

“Morning,” Scarlet said, pushing a piece of asparagus to the top of the plate in order to make a roof over the family of disgusting eggs. Who in the world ate asparagus for breakfast anyhow?

Rayne grabbed a floral-patterned plate off the buffet and loaded it with asparagus and one piece of toast. Guess that question was answered. Yuck. Rayne sat next to Brent and buttered her whole-grain toast with fresh-churned butter from the farmer’s market. She brushed her husband’s hand. “So have you decided what you are going to do about the library vote?”

Brent took a sip of coffee. “I’m going to publicly oppose it. Harvey Primm is a jackass.”

“Brent,” Rayne warned, glancing at her son. Henry laughed behind his pastry.

“What are you talking about?” Scarlet asked, shoving her plate away. “And why the devil are you mixing goat cheese in with perfectly good eggs?”

Rayne blinked. “Huh?”

“The eggs.” Scarlet waved a fork at her abandoned plate.

“They’re the signature breakfast dish. Organic brown eggs with goat cheese and sautéed baby spinach. Everyone loves them.”

Scarlet shrugged. “Okay. Whatever you say. Do I really need goat-cheese breath in the morning?”

Rayne glanced worriedly at Scarlet’s half-eaten plate. Scarlet shouldn’t have said anything. Her sister would be in the kitchen, trying out a new recipe.

“So what’s Harvey up to now?” Scarlet asked. “Didn’t he already get the liquor laws changed?”

Rayne nodded. “Yeah. Last year. Now we have to buy liquor outside the city limits. In fact, the inn had to obtain a special license to serve champagne and Bloody Marys on Sunday. This time it has to do with a children’s book at the county library.”

Scarlet’s internal radar received a bleep. “A children’s book?”

“Yeah, a children’s book,” Brent said. “He’s hoodwinked the library board into removing it from the shelves.”

“Why?” Scarlet asked.

“Because it deals with witchcraft. No different from Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Narnia, but he’s convinced the book will ‘rip the innocent veil from the children’s eyes.’ Ridiculous.” He snorted and set his fork on the empty plate before him.

“Have you read it?” Scarlet asked Rayne.

“I have,” Henry piped up. He had crumbs on his chin and looked suitably adorable. “The Magpie’s Jewel. It’s really good. There’s this ruby that has a curse trapped in the center of it. And this one wizard dude, well, he gets this, um, scroll thing and reads about the jewel. But then this magpie steals it from the most powerful witch in the world. So these kids have to find the jewel before this crazy dude does or he’ll rule the world.”

Henry paused for dramatic effect. Scarlet wasn’t exactly following the story plot, but he certainly seemed excited about it. “They find it, and find out this bird is really the spirit of their grandmother who was killed by the evil wizard. It’s a really good book. I wish they wouldn’t make them take it out of the library.”

Brent smiled at Henry. It made Scarlet feel uncomfortable because she could see the love in the man’s eyes. Rayne’s words rang in her ears. He loves me…and Henry. Scarlet swallowed her doubt and redirected her attention to Primm and the book in question. “So what is the community saying?”

“They’re split,” Rayne said.

Brent nodded. “Very splintered, and with some throwing religion into the debate, it’s become very polarized with neither contingency giving the other a chance to change minds. It’s been frustrating as an author to see people decide the worth of a book without even bothering to read it.”

Scarlet had nearly forgotten Brent was an author. When Rayne had revealed Brent’s secret career as an author of middle-grade sports books, Scarlet had been as shocked as anyone else who’d met the hunky, all-American former football player. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think him capable. Okay, she hadn’t. So it was a-baseball-bat-against-the-head shocking. “What’s going to happen?”

Brent shrugged. “A few people have talked of staging a peaceful protest in front of the library. I belong to several writers’ loops online and there has been a lot of chatter about the censorship of the book, with some news networks covering it. Surprised me that a small county like ours would receive so much attention. But something about an award-winning children’s book being ripped from the shelves and unavailable to countless children has many people angry and ready to do battle over the issue. And not just in Oak Stand.”