Abrupt Changes: A Second Chance Romance (O-Town Book 3) by Karen Renee (comprehension books .TXT) 📕

Fuck. What was I doing?

I shouldn’t even think that way. But there would be times when she would need to leave Penny to take care of things related to Bronwyn’s death. Who was she going to call on then? Sure, the neighbor was there yesterday, but I knew Rae wouldn’t impose like that. A mother with two toddlers did not need to look after a seventy-year-old neighbor to boot.

Still. My mind dwelled on dating and starting something with Rae again. That had to stop.

“This joint has a steady line of customers, Clint. How does this woman think he has time to cheat? Hell, why isn’t she helping to run the family business?”

“Did you read the file? He works there but isn’t the owner. My first thought was female coworker, but only men were in there.”

“Could be a woman in the back balancing books or whatever.”

I watched him finish his java. “You might want to take it easy on the fluids, man. And, you might be right, but the office door was open, and nobody was in there.”

Our man came out of the dry cleaner and walked two doors down. I thought he would take a seat on a nearby bench, but he leaned against the wall and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

I heard papers rustling. In my peripheral vision I saw Brock had the folder open.

“Says he’s a non-smoker. I’ve never been married, but I’m guessing a wife would definitely know about that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your eye on the subject, Sullivan.”

Slagle stood between a Domino’s Pizza and a vacant shop. I glanced at the clock on the console. It was quarter to ten. An older model Scion pulled up in front of him. He blew out a plume of smoke, then stubbed the cigarette out with his shoe, a huge smile on his face.

“Get the camera ready.”

“Already on it, Ramsey.”

A pert blonde got out of the car and skipped over to him. I heard the clicking sound of the camera. She unlocked the door to the pizza shop, and he followed her inside.

“Shit,” I muttered, thinking we were going to lose sight of them.

They didn’t move far into the shop. She set her purse on a chair just inside the door, and then they had a lengthy make-out session.

Brock said from behind the camera, “So, our work here is done, right? Easy-peasy.”

I sighed. “Nope. Hate to break it to you, man, but Otero-Silva doesn’t have the reputation they have from just providing make-out shots. Paul prefers when we can get something more concrete.”

“If he’s married, he shouldn’t be shoving his tongue down some other woman’s throat.”

“You’re right, but shit can be spun. She came on to him, he was just there to pick up a pie for the rest of the crew. Cheaters are slippery and slimy as hell, and it’s our job to make this shit stick.”

Chapter 5

What Letter?

Raegan

IN MY QUEST TO REDUCE Mom’s blood pressure, I had cut back on the amount of take-out we ordered. However, I wasn’t used to doing so much cooking. Living in New York, I thrived on restaurant food. The first couple weeks of cooking for Mom was great, but it was funny how quickly the bloom came off the rose.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like cooking, it was that I had tired of my own cooking.

I blew out a sigh and focused on chopping the potatoes for roasting. The oven was already on, with the pork tenderloin inside, and I needed to hustle to get everything on the table at the same time.

As I seasoned the baking sheet full of potatoes, a key scraped in the lock of the side door. I turned and watched Clint enter. I bit back my first snarky rejoinder, which would’ve been ‘Honey, you’re home!’

He was wearing a pair of jeans, a pale yellow button-down long-sleeve shirt with the arms rolled up, and a pair of black boots. The top buttons of the shirt were undone and, based on the amount of skin I could see, he wasn’t wearing an undershirt.

When he locked the door behind himself, I smiled. “You know, if you’re going to show up here unannounced, the least you could do is bring dinner.”

He gave the potatoes a pointed look. “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

I ground more pepper onto the potatoes. “It is, but it doesn’t mean I don’t crave some take-out.”

“You Irish girls definitely have a way with the potatoes.”

I glared at him. “See you’re still prone to chauvinistic stereotypes.”

He sidled up to me, so he could speak in a low voice. “Your mother thinks we might ‘hit it off again.’ How about you disabuse her of that idea?”

I laughed. “As if. She can’t possibly think—”

“Told her stylist, who—”

“Told your mother. Fabulous. How is Juanita?”

“Busy.”

I chuckled, and accidentally blurted, “Busybody, more like.”

Clint laughed and I’d forgotten how good I felt every time I heard him do it. Especially when I made him laugh.

“Yeah, so let’s nip that in the bud.”

Setting the pepper mill back on the counter, I grabbed the dried parsley. “Be nothing to nip if you’d stop dropping by.”

“I care about your mother. I’m not gonna bail on her now when she’s grieving a daughter.”

I smushed parsley flakes in my palm before sprinkling them onto the potatoes. “Funny, you bailed for two weeks just fine.”

He blew out a sigh. “Wanted to give you time.”

To leave, I thought, but didn’t say.

Mother’s walker clacked on the kitchen floor. “Oh good, you’re making the potatoes. Go easy on the thyme, dear.”

I grinned. “It was one time, Mom. Besides, I won’t have to go easy if you don’t distract me while I’m shaking the thyme onto the spuds.”

“You! I’m down to one can of nuts. What gives, Ramsey?”

Grabbing the thyme, I looked over my shoulder at her. “Your blood pressure, is what gives, thanks to you cutting more of those salt-laden legumes out of your diet.”

“You take away