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

hours of the morning. Shouldn’t have happened then, and it damn sure won’t happen again. Capisce?”

My happy afterglow fell away at his statement, but he was right. I nodded and let him go. In my pajamas, I slid into bed beside him.

He tugged me closer and nuzzled my neck. When he pulled away from my neck, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. It turned into a small make-out session, but I ended the kiss before things got too heated.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Fibber.”

I sighed. “I’ll be glad when this threat is gone.”

His warm eyes caught mine. “All because we’re not sleeping naked?”

I shrugged. “I guess. It just makes me mad. And, I’m mad at myself. I don’t know.”

He cupped my cheek. “Stop it, honey. There’s no need to be mad at yourself. It’ll be cleared up soon, if I have anything to say about it.”

I kissed the side of his lips. “You’re right.”

His head reared back a touch. “Might have to note the time and date. Can’t remember you ever telling me I’m right. But let’s get some shut-eye. If you’re nice, I’ll let you shower with me, and we’ll make up for the missed shenanigans from this morning.”

I laughed, and he turned out the light.

IN THE MORNING, I WALKED into Mom’s house with a much better disposition than I expected. Partly it was because sleeping curled up next to Clint was always good for what ailed me, and partly it was because he delivered on shower shenanigans.

I wandered into the kitchen to find Mom sipping her coffee at the table. “Good morning, Mom.”

“Morning, Rae.”

Her greeting was short, but I couldn’t tell if it was curt, since she hadn’t had a full cup of coffee. Brock had met us on the sidewalk outside the house and told us she was just having her first cup. He and Clint were still outside chatting about work, or more likely, about me and Mom.

“You sleep all right, last night?” I asked.

“Yep.”

I pulled a glass from a cupboard. “Have you eaten?”

“Had some raisin toast.”

No endearments. Maybe she was mad, but what she had to be mad about, I didn’t know.

I filled a glass with water and turned to her. “What’s bugging you, Mom?”

“A lot of things, Raegan. But mainly the fact, I’ve lost one daughter, and you couldn’t even call while you were at Clint’s last night.”

I took a gulp of water in an effort not to sigh. After I swallowed, I said, “I’m sorry, Mom. My thoughts were a little scattered. Knowing someone wants me dead, and it’s my fault Wynnie’s not here.”

She put the coffee down with such force; I wondered if she dropped it. Her eyes narrowed at me. “What happened to her isn’t your fault. And call me selfish, but with one daughter gone, I need to have my other daughter close. And if she can’t be close by, she should call me.”

I arched a brow at her referring to me in the third person. “I understand your point, Mom, and I apologize. Though, my head was a little messed up last night.”

“Because you blame me.”

I sighed before I took my water to the table and sat next to her. “I don’t blame you. I just needed to wrap my head around all of this. It didn’t occur to me that you needed to hear from me. Especially since Brock was here.”

“He’s nice, but he’s not family.”

Clint’s heavy footsteps filled the air and my response died on my tongue. He entered the kitchen looking between us. “Everything, okay?”

I smiled with closed lips. “Sure is.”

One eye narrowed. “If you say so. I got work to do, but put this in your purse. Same place we had it before,” he said, handing me his small revolver.

My lips quirked to the side, but I took the gun and tucked it into my purse.

“Walk me to the door, Rae,” he asked, but it was clearly a demand. He nodded to Mom. “See you this evening, Penny.”

“Be safe, Clint,” she said over the rim of her coffee cup.

With my purse in hand, I followed Clint to the front porch.

His hand shot to my neck, pulling me in for a deep but quick kiss. When he lifted his lips away his brown eyes bore into mine. “What’s with your Mom?”

My lips pulled down, but I did my best to soften my frown. “Mother-daughter spat, I guess you would say.”

His brows furrowed. I thought he’d keep his disapproval to himself, but I was wrong. “She has nothing to spur a spat with you. Do you want me to talk to her?”

I dipped my chin. “No, Clint. And to be honest, she kinda does. We should be sticking together right now. Our grief... I don’t know, she’s pretty much the only person I can share it with fully, and vice versa.”

His chin dipped, his eyes intent on me. “You got me to share it with, too.”

A small smirk twisted my lips. “I do, and as often as you’re here, so does she. But you know it’s not quite the same.”

He sighed, then he kissed my forehead. “You’re right,” he murmured there.

I stepped back so he could leave, but a gray Ford Fusion pulled into the driveway. The windows were tinted, and I couldn’t make out who was behind the wheel other than the fact it was a man.

Under his breath, Clint muttered, “Fuck.” He turned to me. “You keep your mouth shut.”

My eyes narrowed. “Clint.”

His eyes widened. “That’s Gaspar, and I don’t know why he’s here, but I know I don’t like it.”

The burly detective unfolded from his car, reached behind the seat and pulled out a suit coat. He shrugged into it and strode up the walk. “Ms. Connelly. How are you?”

“I’m... well,” I said.

He didn’t even acknowledge Clint. With a look at my purse, he asked, “Are you heading somewhere? I thought we might talk inside.”

“This pertain to Bronwyn Connelly?” Clint asked.

Gaspar’s eyes cut to him. “This pertains to Ms.