When her phone buzzed with a new text, Beth looked at it instinctively and immediately wished she hadn't.
"Because I said so," she told Kenny, keeping her voice steady despite the clench in her gut. "Now go play or I'll find a chore that needs to be done."
He stomped off with a huff and she waited until he was out of sight before she turned toward her phone.
You broke my boy and now you owe me a new one.
Beth blinked at the text, thumbs hovering over the keys. She knew he had her number, of course, and she's seen him on his phone multiple times. But he'd never texted her before. He'd just shown up, like a wraith in the dark, no warning. On a hunch, she glanced outside, fully expecting him to be sitting on her picnic table, watching her read his text. But her backyard was empty.
Finally she typed, "what does that mean?" and hit send because she had no idea what he was accusing her of. Also, if he expected her to start replacing his staff, he had another think coming because she didn't have time to—
Man is cryin into a tupperware of pot roast. Wtf you do to him?
A shaky laugh forced its way out of her. She set her phone down to brace her arms on the counter and breathe through the adrenaline spike. When she could control her fingers again, she sent back, "he said it smelled like his moms so i said he could take some."
She set the phone down like it was a bomb, waiting for the three dots, but nothing came. She spent a second wondering if he was actually serious, but then there was a crash and someone crying and she had to check to make sure no one was bleeding.
It was after dinner before she picked up her phone again, and there was one unread text.
Fucker won't even give me any.
Beth found herself smiling at her phone.
"What's so funny?" Dean asked, barely glancing up from where he sat watching baseball on the couch.
She looked up, startled. "What?" She'd forgotten he was there.
"What's so funny?" he repeated. But now he was looking at her, expecting an answer.
"Annie," she said after a beat. "She's complaining about pizza rolls."
Dean looked at her for a second longer than necessary but eventually went back to the tv and popcorn. "Hilarious," he grunted, and she rolled her eyes as kernels spilled down his chest and in between the cushions. Looks like she'd be vacuuming tomorrow.
It had been a few hours since he'd sent it, but spite made her type out, "I gave him two," and hit send. When she got an almost immediate reply, she had to hold back a genuine laugh.
Need a job? Looks like I'm about to have an opening.
Biting her lip and weighing her options, she typed back, "You couldn't afford me."
She watched, waiting to see if he'd respond, and with a jolt, realized what she was doing. She straightened with something like embarrassment and turned her phone over before burying her face in her hands. She was flirting with him. Warm face, fluttery tummy, jackrabbiting heart…she wanted him to respond. God, what was wrong with her?
This was…she couldn't do this. Clearly she had some kind of wires crossed and she needed to step away. Get her head on straight. She reminded herself who she was dealing with: a drug dealing, criminal mastermind murderer. Get it together, Beth.
"Pizza rolls not funny anymore?"
She straightened, pushing aside her guilt a lot easier than she pushed aside her fluttery tummy. "No, just tired," she responded. "I think I'll head to bed."
Dean didn't respond but she could feel his eyes on her as she headed toward the stairs. She deliberately left her phone face down on the counter, but she also knew that it hadn't buzzed with a return text. If it had, she was woman enough to admit that she wasn't so sure she'd have been able to leave it there.
"Pot roast again?" Dean asked, peeking in the oven and letting all the heat out.
She took a towel out of the basket and snapped it before folding. "You know it has a window. You could just look through the window."
Dean looked stung but closed the oven door. "Right. Sorry. Anyway, I have to go in early tomorrow. Got an all-team meeting before the dealership opens so…"
He trailed off, leaning on the counter and looking at her expectantly. But she just folded another towel and waited.
"Right." He hesitated, but finally went upstairs to change and Beth rolled her shoulders, trying to shrug off the annoyance she felt settling on them every time Dean came home. He was trying, she thought. He hadn't done anything wrong, lately anyway. She should give him a break. Even if "all-team meeting," was probably code for "I'm going to betray our wedding vows. Again."
He hadn't texted again. She didn't care. But the drop was tonight and if she happened to have leftovers, what was the harm in bringing it along? Like a joke, almost. He could give it to Bullit if he wanted. Actually, she didn't even know if he'd be there in person. Maybe Mr. Cisco would be the one picking up the money this time, and he'd have no idea why he was also picking up a container of cold pot roast along with it. Jesus, what was she doing?
Beth sighed at herself and took the folded towels to the bathroom. She needed a drink.
She waited at the park by herself, wondering how stupid she was actually being. Yes, okay, the longer she held the Tupperware, the dumber she felt, and she'd lied to Annie and Ruby about being told to attend the drop alone so they were worried out of their minds. But embarrassment aside, what if this was actually a dangerous idea, meeting him alone in the dark?
Well. If he wanted her dead, it's not like he couldn't do that at any time. He didn't need to wait until now.
When the familiar vehicle pulled up, she stood, bag of money in one hand and pot roast in the other. Stupid. So, so stupid.
Except he wasn't alone. Two of his boys flanked him, and neither, she noticed, was Bullit.
"What's this?"
Beth looked down at her hands and held the container out awkwardly. "Pot roast. But, um." She glanced at the other two men but stopped talking when she saw his smirk.
"I didn't kill him," he said, eyes sparkling.
She smiled tentatively. "It's for you."
To her surprise, he stiffened. Like pulling the blinds, his face snapped closed and a calm, buried anger settled behind his eyes. He regarded her coolly and her stomach lurched. With a jerk of his chin, he dismissed his boys back to the car and waited until the doors were closed before he drew the gun from where it rested against the small of his back. He held it down by his leg and leaned into her space.
"No Mami. We don't do that here. Not ever. This is business. You understand?"
The anger had worked its way into his jaw, flexing, and she swallowed and nodded quickly. Business. Got it. So, so stupid.
"I got it," she said, her voice quiet, but stronger than she thought it would be. "You don't need that."
She looked pointedly at his weapon and his eyes roamed her face. She cursed her fair skin, flaming red even in the meager light in the park. He nodded, almost to himself, and slid the gun away. Then, without a backward glance, he took the money off the picnic table and went back to his vehicle. The roast stayed where it was.
She texted Ruby and Annie as soon as she got back home, but their relieved replies only added to her embarrassment. Her dark and quiet house didn't bring the respite it should have, and she found herself standing over the sink at 1 am, polishing the already spotless stainless steel.
Her phone buzzed on the counter behind her and technically it could have been anyone, but her eyes snapped to the window anyway.
The glow from his phone lit his face as he calmly looked up and met her gaze. He sat on top of her picnic table like he owned it, feet on the bench, elbows on his knees. He might as well have. She didn't even look at it anymore without thinking of him.
Despite the clench of her stomach muscles and the wham of her pulse in her ears, she took her time rinsing the sink and removing her gloves. He waited.
She picked up her phone but didn't read the message until she was standing in front of him.
What's for dinner tomorrow?
She licked her lips. "Kenny has soccer practice and Jane has tap, so just a casserole."
He managed to look predatory even without a weapon or his goons. He studied her.
"You don't show up to a drop alone. It's bad business. Makes you look weak."
She tried not to let her face flame and raised her chin. "What do you care how I look?"
"It's my business, isn't it." It wasn't a question but he raised an eyebrow at her.
She pressed her lips together and thought about lying that the girls had been busy, but instead she just nodded once. "Fine."
A flash of approval crossed his face and Beth was ashamed to realize it warmed her to her core. She crossed her arms. "So does this count as a business meeting then?" she asked, lacing it with a sneer. "Or is this a personal call? Do I get scolded if I offer you some cookies or something?" She tried to pack as much vitriol into the question as she could, but a grin spread over his face.
"Love cookies," he replied. "What kind?"
She was angry and embarrassed, she reminded herself, gripping her phone tighter in the fist under her armpit. "Oatmeal raisin," she said, begrudgingly.
He winced. "Ooh, Mami, no." His grin grew. "Raisins?"
She shifted. "I might have chocolate chip too," she admitted. She had a tendency to stress bake and then fight with herself about how many she could responsibly foist off on her kids so she wouldn't eat them all. Annie loved it because she usually got the ones left from the previous batch.
He chuckled and rose from the table, standing in front of her with his hands tucked in his jacket. She was always surprised by the way this slim and relatively short man managed to exude leonine grace and predatory power whenever he moved. He waited, watching her. He was letting her choose, she realized. One defensive glare and he'd tip his head back before slinking into the night, off to do illegal and dangerous things in the dark.
She didn't glare.
He took a step toward her. And then another. His eyes were as intense as the rest of him and Beth tried not to squirm. She also didn't look away. When he got too close for comfort, she turned on her heel and led the way into the house, not checking to see if he followed.
He did.
She pulled the container of cookies from the cupboard and set them on the counter, then grabbed a glass and set it down too. He said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her. She moved to the refrigerator for the milk wishing she felt half as smooth as he always appeared. Still, her hand was steady as she poured, and she chanced a glance at him.
He stood with his head rocked back, hands in his pockets, eyes intent on her. She stopped pouring and swallowed.
He took a step toward her. Then another. She had an urge to run, to put the island between them and wait for him, breath thready and pulse thundering, to chase her down. On the other hand, she also had an urge to lift herself up on the island and spread her knees.
She stood still and he crowded her against the counter with nothing more than his presence. She cleared her throat quietly and brushed her hair away from her eyes. When he reached for her, her eyes slipped closed and her stomach muscles trembled.
"Rio," she breathed.
He froze, one hand on the cookie tub behind her and she opened her eyes in time to see his pleased surprise.
Slowly, painfully slowly, he withdrew and showed her the cookie he'd retrieved.
Her cheeks flamed and she looked away, but his gaze was still on her, his body still so near, and she couldn't stop the want.
He brought the treat to his nose and inhaled, and when he spoke, his quiet murmur sounded loud in the darkened house.
"Smells like you know what you're doing, Mami. You decide to start a cookie company, you let me know."
She swallowed, trying to get her body to listen to her and not to him. "Yeah?" she tried. "You need a job or something?" And then before she realized what she was going to say, it spilled from her lips. "Because I might have an opening."
He raised an eyebrow, his lips flitting into a wolfish smile. "I have a job," he replied, his voice low and dark. Then with deliberate intent, he brushed her hair away from her eyes, mirroring her nervous movement from before. Then, as he lowered his hand, he slid his palm around her waist, then down her hip. "But I don't mind a little side hustle."