Hope and Honor by Marilee Brothers

Author:Marilee Brothers [Brothers, Marilee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, fantasy, supsense, psychic
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2017-11-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

I have one more item on my agenda this morning. The mystery pills I snagged from Ziggy. I need Billy to identify them before I go ballistic with my accusations. They may be harmless, though I sincerely doubt it.

Billy picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Minnie, what can I do for you?”

I ignore the underlying message in his response. “Working today?”

“Not ’til later. I’m home. Why?”

I explain my dilemma.

“Want me to come over?”

“I’ll stop by your place if that’s okay.”

“I’ll be here.”

I have a valid reason for going to Billy’s house, and it has nothing to do with the pills in my pocket. The last time I darkened his door, I got the shock of my young life. Billy had a houseguest, an extremely sexy houseguest. At the time, he was suffering with the residual effects of PTSD.

According to Kendra, he was having a crisis of faith and felt he wasn’t good enough for me. Therefore, he undermined our relationship by screwing around with a cop colleague. The affair didn’t last and, since then, Billy has immersed himself in counseling with other veterans who suffer from the same disorder. Kendra tells me he’s now the poster boy for successful rehabilitation. But then, she’s his sister and loves him dearly.

Still, as I pull into Billy’s driveway, I feel the breath hitch in my lungs. Unlike the day my heart shattered into a bajillion pieces, the drapes are pulled back and Billy is standing in the window, looking out. I take a deep breath and exit the car.

Before I hit the porch, the door flies open.

Billy beams at me. “Welcome. I have coffee and doughnuts.”

Oh, yeah, Billy knows what floats my boat. The maple bar I ingested at CyberSecure is history. I’ll run an extra mile before I go to work.

I check the place out as I follow Billy into the kitchen. It’s tidy, yet homey. He even has a sprawling ivy plant perched on the windowsill above the sink.

I point at the plant. “Didn’t know you were so domestic.”

“It’s not like we spent much time here before…” his voice trails off.

He pours the coffee and sets a plate of pastries on the table.

A flush warms my cheeks. “You’re right. We spent most of our time in Number Ten.”

“Screwing our brains out,” he finishes.

We make eye contact and both burst out laughing.

He says, “Like they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Looking back on our relationship, it was sort of one-dimensional?”

“Sort of?”

“Okay, totally one-dimensional.”

We sip coffee and let the silence build. It’s an easy silence, unlike the nerve-wracking, tension-filled moments I felt with Hitchcock.

Billy leans across the table and takes my hand. “I’d like to make up for my lack of, um, wooing.”

Wooing. The word evokes images of women carrying parasols, strolling through manicured gardens. I visualize them in elaborate dresses and a multitude of petticoats beneath which lurks a whalebone corset that won’t allow them to take a full breath. Men in top hats and tails trail behind, discussing the merits of horseflesh.

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