Page 70 of Smoke Screen
At that, Special Agent Blackwell snorted and Maddy prayed the floor would open up and bury her. She half expected Phin’s brother to run from the room. Was she even allowed to be in the same room with him?
Lynette glared at him, and he held a hand up. “Sorry.” He faced Maddy. “That wasn’t aimed at you.”
“It’s okay—”
“No,” Phin said. “It’s not.”
At which point Lynette turned an icy glare on him, then quickly moved her attention to Maddy. “Sit down and eat. My boys need to step outside and talk before I mess my floor by murdering them.”
These people. The way they communicated might either be straight-up crazy or just plain effective.
Maddy clamped her top teeth down, trying and failing to fight a smile.
Phin, Mr. Smooth, shuffled his feet while his brother stared down at his plate.
“Outside,” Lynette said. “And don’t come back until this nonsense is over. I swear, y’all make me nuts sometimes.”
The two men headed for the door while Maddy slid onto the barstool. Lynette picked up a plate, turned to the stove, and started scooping food.
“I’m so sorry,” Maddy said. “I hate that they’re fighting.”
“Honey, with all the testosterone in this house, they’re always fighting. It’s just a matter of who and over what.”
She spun back, slid Maddy a plate piled with enough food to feed King Kong. “Eat up. You must be starving. The jam is homemade. Not by me, but a family member. It’s excellent.”
“Wow. This looks great. Thank you for your hospitality. This can’t be easy, having me here.”
“If this is the hardest thing I ever go through, I’d say I’m doing just fine. Around here, we like to help people. And, yes, professionally, having you here takes a bit of explaining, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. When people need help, Blackwells step up. My Phin doesn’t hesitate to jump into the fray.”
“He’s a good man.”
Lynette nodded. One solid jerk of her head. “Thank you. It’s the finest compliment a mother can get.”
Maddy imagined it would be.
The only problem was, she might be falling hard for said good man.
13
Outside,morning sunlight blazed, the rays already heating Phin’s skin. Summer humidity in North Carolina was no joke and today already felt like a scorcher.
A good ten yards from the house, Phin halted in the grass, shoved his hands in his front pockets just to have something to do with them and spun sideways to face his brother.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
There. Done. Oddly enough, not as painful as he’d expected. Probably because he’d been a dickhead and needed to get rid of the guilt.
Ash, being a pain in the ass, held his hand to his ear, lop-sided grin firmly in place.
Ass.
Hole.
Still, Phin laughed.
“Come again?” Ash said. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”
He heard.
