The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

“Yes, I do.” I shift my shoulders and settled deeper into the cushions. “You said you were going to take a nap. Bed’s made up in the guest bedroom if you want to stretch out.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine here.”

I nod and focus on the cricket. I’m aware of her moving around. When I ignore her, she settles onto her side, with her head on the cushion, arms crossed over her belly.

I don’t know if she actually sleeps, but I do. My eyelids get heavier and heavier as India continues to rack up the runs and the sun beats down through the windows and open French doors, shooting the temperature back up into the nineties. The beer relaxes me even more than the heat. I’m dimly aware of Emily’s cat coming to curl up like a miniature nuclear reactor on my chest, but I’m too sleepy to even shoo his hot little body off me.

The crack of the front door wakes me and I sit up groggily, dislodging the damn cat, feeling the pull run from my lower back down my left leg. Beside me, Miranda sits up, too. She tosses her hair back, and, looking straight at Emily, very deliberately licks the corner of her mouth.

“Mmm,” she says. “That’s better. I feel so refreshed.”

Lizbeth, following a step behind Emily, turns fire-engine red. She pushes past Emily, dropping the shopping bag she’s carrying, and leveling her finger at Miranda. “You fucking skank!”

Knowing my sister’s explosive temper all too well, I grab the back of the couch and throw myself over it, thankfully landing on my right leg. I intercept Lizbeth as she’s charging at Miranda.

She kicks as I lift her off her feet, grabbing my shoulder, and bellowing, “You have to keep trying to ruin my brother’s life, don’t you? Go back to Skankland! No one wants you here!”

I wrap one arm around Lizbeth’s middle, the other around her back, and bulldoze her out of the room. “Emily,” I call. “Come.”

I hear the patter of her feet as she follows across the hallway and into my office.

“Shut the door,” I tell Emily and wait until I hear the door close before I release my sister. “Emily, get your headphones and plug them into your phone. Put on the white noise playlist and put your headphones on.”

Eyes wide, Emily follows my instructions to the letter, while I lean back against my desk, cross my arms over my chest, and glare at my little sister.

She mimics my posture, glaring right back.

Emily settles the headphones over her ears and looks at me uncertainly. I point at the floor at my feet with two fingers.

Crimson floods her cheeks and she glances at Lizbeth. I feel every muscle tighten at even that second of hesitation before she submits. Her eyes flicker, then she lowers them, takes the few steps to me, and sinks onto her knees.

“Skank?” I ask my sister.

Lizbeth lifts her hands. “It’s the girls’ new word.”

“And you decided to throw it at Miranda? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Her hands drop to her hips, and she leans forward like she does when she scolds the twins. My little sister’s become such a banty hen. “I can’t take another second of her. She was acting like you’d just—”

“I know what she was doing, Lizzy. I’m not an idiot. I also know that absolutely nothing happened between her and me.”

Lizbeth harrumphs, and she sounds so much like our great-uncle Finlay that I break down and laugh.

“This isn’t funny.” She shakes her head at me.

“You sounded just like Finlay then. Remember him? We used to call him Uncle Walrus?”

“Yeah, I remember. He had those huge gray whiskers.”

“That’s right. He’d make that noise any time Mum made him a cuppa. He said it wasn’t just weak, it was a fortnight. Remember?”

“Yes, okay, I remember. It’s not funny.” But she smiles.

“Look, this whole thing is fucked, Lizzy. I’ve got to laugh about it or I’d be breaking shit.”

“Fine.” Her hands go back to her hips. “But don’t let Miranda screw things up between you and Emily. You may not see it, but she dies a little inside every time Miranda touches you. This is hurting her, Lo. I mean it.”

I have seen it. That’s another reason why I’ve made my physical boundaries very clear.

“I hear you. It’s one more day, Lizzy. One day and then she’s gone, and Emily and I can get back to normal.”

“One day that could fuck up things irreparably.”

“I’m not going to let Mir fuck things up between me and Emily. I know what I have in Emily. She’s the one. I’m not letting her go.”

Lizbeth stares at me, open mouthed.

“You’ve never said that before. All the girls you’ve brought home, you’ve never said that.”

I settle my hand on top of Emily’s head, connecting to my baby doll. She lifts her head slightly so I can see her face, and after smiling at me, her eyes slowly close. I hope she’s sinking into a peaceful place.

“I’m saying it now,” I tell Lizbeth.

“So, this, this is serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Lizbeth tips her head to the side and gives me her patented mother hen glare again. “How serious?”

“Very. I don’t think she wants to be married again, but if she does, I’ll happily marry her.”

“Why doesn’t she want to be married again?”

I guess Emily hasn’t shared with my sister. “She’s been burned. Her first husband cheated on her. She divorced him.”

“That’s bullshit. You’d never cheat on her. Oh, fuck.” She throws up her hands. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to have some crazy-ass open relationship?”

“No. I told you, Emily’s the one. There’s no one else.”

“Swear to me you won’t even think about patching things up with Skanky out there.”

I shake my head at her. “Listen to you. Mum would’ve had your hide for your language, Elizabeth Logan O’Donnell.”

“Fuck you, James Madison Logan. Swear it to me.”

“I swear.” I hold up my hands. “I couldn’t ever trust Miranda again, and even if I did, I don’t