Page 10 of A Burning Rage

I chuckle. “We are fine, Joe. Thank you.”

“The kids, too? And Mr. McIntyre?”

“They are all well.”

“And Ms. Ingrid? I hear she’s got babysitting duty today.”

“She does. And she’s well also.” I smother a grin. It’s no secret that Joe is sweet on my mom.

Joe is a handsome mountain of a man. The former heavyweight boxer, now in his late fifties, must still work out because he has retained his muscular physique. His skin is a warm shade of light brown. His white hair is cropped close to his head, but his trim beard and mustache are still dark. The contrast makes him even more attractive. He strikes me as a big teddy bear. He’s flawlessly well mannered, and I detect a hint of a southern accent.

“What about me, Joe?” Sam asks with an exaggerated pout as he glances back to wink at me. “Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

“Of course, I am, young man,” Joe says. “How are you? And how’s your other half?”

“We are fine,” Sam says. “How about you? Anything new in your world?”

While Joe and Sam continue their friendly banter in the front seat, I take a quiet moment to press my palm to my abdomen and wonder if there’s another little McIntyre growing inside me. I know I should stop daydreaming about it and find out for sure, but I’m so afraid of disappointment. I like keeping the mystery alive at least a few more days.

The ride downtown is uneventful. Joe pulls the SUV up to the front of the bookstore and puts it in park. I gaze out my window at the impressive structure, and marvel at my good fortune. I’m the lucky owner of this gorgeous, two-story independent bookstore on N. Michigan Avenue in the heart of The Magnificent Mile. Shane gifted it to me shortly after I was attacked by a student in the medical school library where I worked at the time.

Sam jumps down from his front passenger seat and opens my door, offering me a hand. “Watch your step, Princess.”

I smile when I hear the old nickname Shane’s sister Lia gave me when we first met. “Aren’t you the chivalrous one today?” I say as I take his hand.

As he helps me down, Sam shrugs. “Just me being me, I guess.”

We say goodbye to Joe, who promises to return for us around two-thirty. One of the perks of being the owner of the bookstore is I get to set my own hours.

Sam opens the door for me, and I walk inside Clancy’s. The store has only been open an hour this morning, and already we’re busy. Erin, who’s standing at one of the checkout counters, waves at me as she rings up a customer’s purchases.

Since Erin became the store’s general manager, I’ve taken more of a backseat role. We have two new assistant managers, Becky and Tara, who help fill out the daily roster.

I spot Mack Donovan—Erin’s husband and the head of store security. He waves at me mid-conversation with a new member of the security staff.

I point to the wide, curving staircase that leads up to the second floor, where my office is located down the administrative hallway. Mack nods as he continues his conversation.

Sam follows me up the stairs and into my office, and he takes a seat on a long sofa positioned in front of a large picture window overlooking the bustling street. He grabs his Nintendo Switch from off the wooden coffee table and powers it up.

“You are such a kid,” I say as I boot up my computer.

Sam props his scuffed boots on the coffee table. “What sounds good for lunch today? I could go for Chinese. How about you?”

I laugh. “We just had breakfast. How can you possibly be thinking about food again so soon? I’m still stuffed.”

“I don’t mean right now.” He rolls his big brown eyes at me. “I’m thinking ahead. I like to be prepared.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think Cooper’s feeding you enough.”

He grins. “Oh, don’t worry, babe. Daddy keeps me well stuffed.”

I wad up a sheet of paper and lob it at his head. “That’s TMI, dude.”

“If you don’t feel up to going out for lunch, I’ll go pick something up, or we can have it delivered. If you’re not feeling Chinese, how about Indian? Or pizza?”

I narrow my eyes on him. “What’s going on, Sam? First, you help me out of the Escalade, and now you’re offering to go pick up my lunch. Care to explain where all the pampering is coming from?”

Sam shrugs as he pushes buttons rapidly on his game device. He’s rewarded with lots of beeps. “No reason,” he says as he avoids making eye contact. “Can’t a guy be helpful?”