Page 11 of The Heiress

Her eyebrows rose again. “Ah. I see...Okay, no I don’t. I don’t see.”

“I did leave and he did stay.” And that was all I was going to say about that.

Jace cleared his throat. “Uh, we also had a difference of opinion on things.”

Hazel sighed with great exasperation. “Am I gonna have to get you two drunk to figure this out? Because I will. I’ll hit the liquor store and get you two so schnockered you spill all your guts.”

She really would too. “I should mention, Hazel really doesn’t like being left out. She can be a big baby about it.”

That made Hazel gasp in horror, just like I knew it would. “Howdare you, Samantha Hot Stuff Rossi. How dare you!”

“Hot stuff?” Jace chuckled.

“Another of Hazel’s many quirks is that she nicknames everyone. I’m Hot Stuff when she’s trying to get something out of me.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And it’s not working! Ugh!”

Jace fought a smile. “And what are some of your other nicknames?”

Because it was fun and took some of the attention off our past, I answered. “At work she frequently calls me The Digger because I’m good at digging through data to find patterns and hidden details. Unfortunately she can’t use me for her own nefarious devices against myself.” Then I stuck my tongue out at her.

She stuck it right back. “You’re no fun. No fun at all. Do you have any nicknames, Jace?” She batted her lashes at him as she bent over and leaned her chin on her hand.

Jace went stiff at first, looking at the ground, then shook it off. “Not really, no. Maybe you can give me one.”

Hazel brightened at that, but I tuned out her chatter because I knew what made Jace so uncomfortable. As part of Devil’s Wrath he’d have a special name. A...road name,I think they called it? And there was no way he was bringing that up. A part of me wanted to know what it was, to ask him what his life was like. But the other part of me wanted to bury my head back under the sand and pretend Jace was still seventeen.

“I mean, if it’s all right with Sam, I’d be happy to help.” Jace stared at me.

So did Hazel. I realized they were waiting on me to answer. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Jace can fix that wobbly fan but for some reason he thinks you don’t want him to come back tomorrow…” Hazel drew the words out.

The wobbly fan? Oh yes, the wobbly fan my parents stopped using rather than fix, like about a dozen or so other problems around the house. It would be nice to be able to turn that back on during the heat of the day without having to worry a fan blade might shear off at any moment and bury itself in the drywall. “Sure. If you’re willing to help, that would be great.”

Jace kept staring at me, probably searching for whether I was lying or not, then nodded. “All right then. I’ve got something first thing in the morning, but I can drop by around eleven?”

“Eleven is perfect,” Hazel gushed.

“I’d fix it now but I don’t have any tools on me and I know your Dad’s workbench is about as organized as a Lego bin.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Dad loved to build things, but he was the absent-minded professor. He had tools and parts everywhere with no organization whatsoever. He rarely finished a project. “Tomorrow it is, then.”

Jace finally seemed to believe me. “Well, I better get on home. Thanks for the wine. It was as good as you promised, Hazel.”

He only drank a few sips, but that was probably smart considering he was about to get back on that deathtrap. “Thanks for checking on me.”

He shot me a soft smile that made my breath catch. “Any time. I mean it.”

I still couldn’t quite breathe for some reason. “I appreciate that.” Hazel stayed in the kitchen while I walked Jace to the door. “So this is us now? Strangers but not?”

He shuffled outside and turned around. “Can we ever be strangers, Sam? Really? I’ve eaten your mud pies. That kind of thing transcends time.”

I laughed. “My mud pies were the stuff of legend.” We used to pretend my back porch was a boxcar when it rained all afternoon. I’d create a variety of pies out of the mud and we’d pretend to eat them.

He began shuffling backward. “We’re not strangers, Sam. Just friends with a few blank spots to fill in. I’ll see you in the morning.”

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