Page 49 of If Love Had A Manual

Her mouth falls open like I caught her off guard, or she wants to say something, but she quickly snaps it shut.

She’s beautiful with black, shoulder-length hair, full lips, and the kind of curves that can make a person cry. She’s wearing a cream coat that screams expensive, butthere’s an unmistakable tension in the way she holds herself.

She looks harmless, if not a little stalkery, but my patience has officially run out.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, voice firm but polite, because even with a potential kidnapper, I still don’t like confrontation.

Her eyes flick from me to Rosie and back again.

It’s not until I step between them and block her view that she finally speaks. “Is that Rosie?”

A cold trickle runs down my spine. “Why do you ask?”

In a voice that’s barely above a whisper, she says, “I’m Lyndsey.”

Yeah, Lyndsey The Kidnapper.

The name means nothing to me.

I blink rapidly as my mind flips through every mental file I have. I come up blank.

She shakes her head, letting out a fractured breath. “I’m Wes’s ex-girlfriend.”

I go very, very still.

My first thought? Wes has an ex-girlfriend?

Well, of course he does, Lena. He’s not celibate.

My second thought? I know nothing about this woman. This could be some crazy lady ready to steal a child.

Mychild.

Wait.

Notmychild.

Calm down.

I flick a glance down at Rosie, who’s still happily banging her ladle against the cart, completely oblivious.

My gut is still twisting because if this is Wes’s ex, why hasn’t he mentioned her?

And why does she look like the sight of Rosie has knocked the air out of her lungs?

Lyndsey glances around nervously. “Is Wes with you?”

My fingers tighten on the cart handle.

It’s the note of desperation—or maybe it’s hope—in her tone that has my spine going so straight I swear I hear it crack.

“No,” I say carefully, “but he’s on the way.”

When he said he wanted to come with us, I thought it was both unexpected and sweet. Although I think he just wants to wrestle Brussels sprouts out of my hands before they make it into the cart.

Lyndsey’s gaze darts to Rosie again, and my stomach feels heavy.

This is about them, about Wes and Rosie.

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