She shot him a big smile with bright, shining blue eyes.

And then she showed him where she wanted the French door.

Chapter Nine

Deal

Ryn

My phone ringing woke me.

Strike that.

Hearing Boone mutter a sleepy-gravelly, “Shit,” I knew my phone ringing woke both of us.

I shifted out of the curve of his body when he shifted in order to grab my phone.

By the time I’d turned, got up on an elbow, got a load of tousle-haired Boone in the morning, and dealt with my reaction to that, he’d grabbed my cell and was looking at the screen.

But seeing him there, in my bed, just woken up, and after we’d had a great day yesterday (notwithstanding it starting with a visit from two possibly dirty cops and getting the knowledge a friend of mine had been murdered), I realized I was an anything goes person.

I could be a morning person.

Or I could be a bear in the morning (specifically when someone woke me up early with a phone call after I’d been dancing the night before).

I worked at night, and a lot of the time I was on fire, but that didn’t mean I was a nighttime person. I had to fake it at work some nights when I wasn’t feeling it.

I was getting the sense, however, that if life took me to a place where I woke up next to Boone on a regular basis, I would for sure become a morning person.

I’d wake up every morning, bright as a daisy.

And I’d also be a nighttime person, if I got to fall asleep beside him every night.

This was my thought before he spoke, and I realized maybe I was not correct.

But not because of Boone.

As I was about to find out, it would be because of the usual suspects.

And I found this out when Boone declared, attention on my phone, “I’m not feeling you taking any shit first thing on a Monday morning.”

Before I could say anything—yes, with my cell still ringing in his hand—he carried on.

“In fact, after the last few days you’ve had, I’m not feeling you taking any shit all this week.”

I got my mouth open that time but wasn’t able to use it before he continued.

“Honest to fuck, pretty down with saying, if I have anything to do with it, you now live in a shit-free zone.”

A shit-free zone?

Okay, I was back to being in a good mood.

Because that was sweet, protective and funny.

And I liked all of it.

My phone stopped ringing.

I looked to it. “Who was that?”

“Your not-quite sister-in-law.”

That was a surprise.

And probably not a good one.

“Angelica?” I asked.

Boone didn’t answer because my phone started ringing again.

“Her,” he grunted after glancing at it. Then to me, he asked, “Do you want me to take it?”

For a second, I couldn’t think.

Because, outside my mother, who was often powerless to do what she’d always do if she could stand between me and the shit of life, no one had stood between me and any of the shit of life.

I wasn’t alone.

As I’d noted, I had Mom. Friends. When my brother wasn’t in a booze haze or he wasn’t pissed at me (for no good reason), I had Brian.

But for the most part, I was on my own.

And until that moment, I was down with that.

Mom made me strong.

Life made me strong.

I got on with things as a matter of course.

And I didn’t do too badly at it.

Straight up, if you asked me, I’d tell you I was proud of that part of myself.

Until that moment.

Oh, I was still proud.

But there was something significant, waking up next to Boone, and having him offer to stand between me and something that was sure to be a blow in one form or other.

It was so significant, I couldn’t even speak.

“Ryn,” he prompted when I didn’t answer.

I kinda wanted to see what he’d say to Angelica if he took that call.

But for me, Portia and Jethro were on the line, my position was precarious when it came to them, so I couldn’t test those waters.

“I’ll take it,” I mumbled.

He handed off the phone and I engaged the call.

“Ang?” I answered.

“You need to get over here right now.”

My heart squeezed.

“Is something wrong with one of the kids?” I asked.

Boone leaned closer.

“Yes, something’s wrong,” Angelica announced. “Portia is being a pain in my ass.”

I was so stunned at this announcement, responsible Portia being a pain in anyone’s ass, I sat still and silent and stared at my bedclothes covering Boone’s hips.

“So are you coming?” she demanded.

“I—” I started.

“She says she won’t do anything until her Auntie Ryn shows her face.”

My eyes went to Boone.

He lifted his brows.

“I’m sorry, she won’t—?” I didn’t get any further.

“She won’t brush her teeth. She won’t get dressed. She won’t even get out of bed. She won’t do anything until you show,” Angelica informed me. “So I need you to get over here so the little bitch will get out of bed and get her ass to school.”

Okay.

All right.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Before I could get to ten, Boone cupped my jaw in his hand, and my focus that had gone hazy with fury fixed on him.

“Ryn,” Angelica bit into my ear. “Are you coming or what?”

“Did you just call your seven-year-old daughter a bitch?” I asked.

The pads of Boone’s fingers flexed into my skin before he dropped his hand.

“She’s acting like a little bitch,” Angelica said.

“Okay, I don’t even know where to start,” I replied.

“I don’t need another lecture from you, Ryn. I just need you to get over here and get her ass to school. I need a break from her attitude which she’s been serving up all weekend.”

Ah.

Light was dawning.

So I said, “Breaking this down, what you’re saying is, failing to be a mother and capable of getting your own daughter out of bed and ready for school is ticking you off because all weekend you’ve been confronted with the fact that you’ve failed to be a mother.”

“Fuck you, Ryn,” she hissed and disconnected.

I closed my eyes and dropped my hand with the phone to my lap.

“I’m seeing I should have taken the call,” Boone said, his voice again gravelly, but there was no sleep in it.

I opened my eyes.

“Portia is refusing to get out of bed until I come over,” I told him.

“In other words, her daughter is missing the mother she’s known since she was born, and Angelica isn’t liking that much.”

“Yeah.”

“And she’s the one who put herself in that situation.”

“Yeah.”

“And instead of handling it, as usual, she’s calling on you even though she’s shit all over you for years.”

I blew out a sigh and then repeated, “Yeah.”

His tone went soft when he said, “Ryn, honey, she’s gotta sort this out herself.”