Page 29 of Son of a Preacher Man

“Okay.” She blinked. The afternoon sun poured in through the bedroom window. Shit. “What time is it?”

“Two,” he replied, checking his phone. “I’m supposed to be at Beanie’s meeting Dillon for coffee.”

“I’m supposed to be at Kevin’s game.”

“Bad Auntie.” Kodiak tsked. “Afraid you missed it, my friend.”

“Yeah, what happened?”

He nuzzled her neck, sliding his fingers inside her. “We did.”

And she smiled.

It’s me. I win.

Today was going to be a wretched day, and not because today was Monday. Once school days, church days, and army days were behind him, one day just blended into the next. Weekdays were no different than weekends. A perk of being self-employed, he supposed—or perhaps not. Considering how he liked to have a sense of structure, an order to things, sometimes Kodiak missed the delineation of his days.

But no, Monday had nothing to do with it. A quick glance at the calendar reminded him, not that he needed one, not only did he have a Zoom session with Babs scheduled for this morning, but it was also Linnea’s wedding anniversary.

Two years. Damn.

The day he gave her away to another man.

Shaking the thought away, Kodiak ambled into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. The aroma of it a pleasant reminder of Kelly. He smiled to himself. Kind of. Snicks. That girl just might be his undoing—or the answer to his prayers, all right. If Kodiak still prayed, that is, which he didn’t.

Maybe he’d stop in at Beanie’s later. That would make today less wretched. But he had to get through this chit-chat with Babs first, and those were always fun—not. He loved her, but the woman infuriated him sometimes. She always knew which buttons to push. Course, he’s the one who handed them to her.

And then, Linnea. Christ. How he dreaded having to see her cry.

Grabbing his coffee, Kodiak got settled in front of his Mac. He logged in, vacantly staring through the glass while he waited. A squirrel, looking for crumbs to nibble on, scampered across the courtyard, and finding none, climbed up the dogwood tree. Clinging to a branch, the creature stood on its hind legs, beady eyes looking back at him, then was gone.

“Morning there, Kodiak.” With a yawn, Babs lit a cigarette on the screen.

“That shit’ll kill you, you know.”

“Hasn’t yet.” She shrugged. “Besides, I only allow myself one a day. In the morning with my kombucha to get me going. The damn birds aren’t even awake here yet.”

“You picked the time, Barbara, not me.”

She huffed out a plume of smoke. Her wiry, graying red hair in disarray, a strand went up in the air with it, only to land in her face. Poor Babs looked like she’d been up all night, and knowing her, she probably had been. “So, how’ve you been since we talked last?”

“All right,” he replied. Kodiak schooled his features, attempting to maintain an impassive expression. The woman could read him like a book.

“Any more dreams? Nightmares?” Writing away on her notepad, she wasn’t looking at him.

Kodiak tucked his tongue in his cheek. Hmm…not exactly.

“No.”

“And how’s your sister?” She stopped her scribbling to take a drag from her cigarette and glanced up at him.

“How do you think?” He bit out, head half-cocked. “Today would’ve been—”

“I know what today is.” She smirked, picking up her pen.

“Jesus, Babs. Is everything on your little notepad there?”

“You know it.” She chuckled, stubbing out her cigarette. “Any more emails?”

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