Page 27 of Late to Love

“I’m with Levi on this one,” Ox says. “The rec center makes more sense. Plus, they have a kitchen, and you don’t. Which is wild, by the way. When are you going to fix that? The amount of money you could make on pizza alone?—”

“Ox, focus,” Levi snaps, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Anthony, can you find me someone to hire to decorate the rec center?”

I have no idea, but before I can say that, Levi bulldozes on.

“Ox, can you reach out to the caterer?”

“Of course.”

“Then we’re done here. Talk to you later.”

The screen goes dark, and Ox looks up at me. “Guess we’ve got a plan.”

Gritting my teeth, I answer. “Guess so.”

“Tell me what’s going on with Darcy.”

Startled, I meet his eyes. For as goofy as my little brother may pretend to be, he is incredibly smart and observant as hell. It’s what makes him such a great police chief. It’s also what got me in trouble more times than I care to admit. “Nothing.”

He tilts his head. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t really care if you believe it or not. That’s the truth.”

He snorts, sounding exactly like his twin, and slides off the stool. “Okay. Keep telling yourself that. And let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

I watch him walk away, images of Darcy and her tool belt swirling in my head, unable to decide if there’s really anything to talk about or not.

Chapter13

Darcy

FOURTH OF JULY. And a beautiful day it’s going to be. I make myself an iced coffee in my little cottage, spending the morning in solitude while I straighten up around the house, doing a couple of loads of laundry in the tiny washer and dryer stacked in the back, and packing my beach bag for a long day at the shore.

My eyes catch on my tool belt and bag in the kitchen. I can’t believe I’ve been renovating Anthony’s loft for nearly eight weeks. I’ve gotten a lot done, but because Anthony is a bit of a penny-pincher, it’s only me doing the work. I pull my guys Kevin and Jeff in when needed, but that’s been pretty rare, and only when I need some serious muscle. It’s nearly finished, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. I can’t wait to see the finished product. The pool table is coming along too, although not as quickly as I’d prefer. It’s my first one and the learning curve is slowing me down.

At ten, I pull up to Amanda’s place and she runs out, her hair in braids on either side of her head and her favorite Fourth t-shirt on. “Nice shirt,” I laugh, taking it in like the national treasure it is. There’s an eagle on it, but it’s sitting astride a unicorn. The unicorn has red, white and blue stripes coming out of its butt as it leaps across the Grand Canyon. Emblazoned across the top is the phrase:The smell of freedom.It’s entirely hilarious, and I cackle every time she pulls it out.

“Thank you.” She bows her head, then nods at me. “Not bad yourself.”

I laugh. “It’s a new one this year.” It’s much simpler than Amanda’s, with George Washington in sunglasses against the flag and the wordsIt’s only treason if you lose.

“Perfection. Let’s get this show on the road!”

I drive to the beach, which is absolutely packed, but we manage to find a spot. We get settled, and Amanda pulls out a fizzy alcoholic drink. “Want one?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Way too early.”

She lowers her sunglasses and glares. “No such thing on the Fourth, missy.”

I shrug and raise my bottle of water. “I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself.” She pops the can open, pours it into her cup, and takes a sip. “Ah. Happy Fourth, Darcy!”

I chuckle. “Happy Fourth, Amanda.”

“So is Daddy coming?” She waggles her eyebrows.

“My dad? Yeah, later.”

---