Page 90 of Starcrossed Colorado

“Do you really want to have a discussion about age differences?” She smirked, knowing she had me there. “I don’t disapprove. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Yet you don’t sound happy yourself.”

She made a face. “I told you I wanted to work through some things.” Grace glanced at the open doorway and sighed. “Elias asked me out.”

“He didwhat? When?”

“Yesterday. But you can’t get mad. Not after you basically just told me to stay out of your business.”

“It’s different. I’m your older brother.” I had a big brother’s instinctual skepticism of any man who asked out his younger sister. Elias was a great guy though. One of my best friends.

“I’m not going to acknowledge the inherent sexism in that statement. Or the fact that it’s not surprising.” Grace pushed her glasses up her nose and crossed her arms over her middle. “I just wanted to let you know. I haven’t even decided whether I’ll say yes.”

“Why not? You’ve known him long enough. If you like him, I can deal with it.”

“I know. But when Elias asked, it dawned on me that I hadn’t dated anyone since college.” Grace shifted uncomfortably. “And it’s not like I don’t want to. Something’s been holding me back, and I don’t know what it is.”

I pulled my sister into a hug. “You’ll find the right person, whether that’s Elias or someone else. And I’ll be there for you. The O’Neals stick together.”

“So we’re good? You and me? Even with my unwelcome opinions on you and Emma.”

“Of course we’re good. Always.” No matter what happened, I had my family’s back when it mattered. And I knew they had mine.

I could trust that Grace would never sayI told you so.

Grace took off, and I had my afternoon martial arts classes. The little kids were only here a couple times a week, but nearly every day I offered classes for teenagers and adults working toward their higher-level belts. Those classes were fun and satisfying, and I felt the good sort of worn out afterward.

Not as good as the kind of worn out I got after alone time with Emma. But still. Satisfying.

While I was in class, Emma had sent me a text of Maisie and Stella rolling in the grass at the park. I smiled and sent back a reply, saying I was about to head out to join them. I was feeling left out. Maybe we’d grab burgers after. Or mix it up and go to the taco truck.

I just had a few chores to deal with on my way out the door.

After showering and changing into jeans and a fresh shirt, I emptied the lobby trash, grabbed my keys, and headed out the back door.

Then I froze when I saw some asshole in a hoodie digging in my trash cart.

“Hey,” I bellowed. “What the hell are you doing?”

Not like I would’ve minded if somebody was hungry and looking for scraps of food. If he was that desperate, I would’ve bought the guy a meal myself. But this person didn’t look homeless. He wasn’t holding food, either. The guy had ripped open one of the plastic bags and held some crumpled papers in his fist.

He shoved the papers into the pocket of his hoodie and took off at a sprint.

“Hey!” I dropped the trash bag I was holding and ran after him.

The guy was rangy and fast. He broke left, cutting through a gap between two buildings. But I was gaining on him. I swiped at the back of his sweatshirt, my fingertips brushing the fabric. The guy darted right, treading over Mrs. Dominguez’s prized vegetable garden. Which delayed me slightly because nowaywas I trampling her tomato plants. I’d never hear the end of it if she caught me on her doorbell camera.

As he crossed the next street, I tackled him on a burst of speed. He landed in the dirt. I still hadn’t seen his face, and I wanted to know who I was dealing with.

Pinning him in place so he couldn’t run again, I yanked the guy’s hoodie back.

“Sheldon?”

It was the property manager from the Ponderosa Apartments. The jerk who’d been so rude to Emma about her leaky ceiling.

He held up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “Don’t hit me, bro. Don’t hit me!”

I let go of his collar in disgust and stood. “I’m not going tohityou.”

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