Winner Takes All by Erin Kern

Author:Erin Kern
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2016-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

When they arrived at Annabelle’s mother’s house, Blake expected an unkempt yard. Not because Mrs. Turner didn’t care. Because she was older and couldn’t even make her own food, much less plant flowers and mow grass. But the grass was green, neatly trimmed, and bordered the house with flowers. Apparently Annabelle took care of the yard work too.

As he parked the truck, she glanced at him. “Before you say anything, no, I don’t cut my mother’s grass,” she told him, as though reading his thoughts. “She has a gardening service that comes once a week.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

One of her sculpted brows arched. “You didn’t have to. I knew what you were thinking.”

Had they arrived at that point already? Where they could read each other’s looks and tone of voice? The reality of it sent a surge of uncertainty through his veins.

They exited the truck and Blake carried the casserole dishes, following Annabelle to the front door. As they made their way up the walk, Annabelle eyed a nondescript dark sedan parked in the driveway. Not only parked, but parked badly. The vehicle was crooked and just shy of kissing the closed garage door.

“Thought your mom didn’t drive?” Blake wondered.

Annabelle stared at the car. “She doesn’t. And that’s not my mom’s car.”

Blake slid the woman a look. “Maybe she has a secret boyfriend.”

She elbowed him in the ribs and he thought he heard her mutter, “Yeah right.”

So Mrs. Turner didn’t date either. Must be a family trait.

Annabelle opened the front door without bothering to knock and held it open for him. The gesture rubbed every chivalrous bone in his body wrong, but since his hands were full of three casserole dishes, he let it slide.

“Not used to that, are you?” she whispered to him as he brushed past her.

Shit, there she went again. Knowing what he was thinking with nothing more than a simple look.

“Just don’t make it a habit,” he told her, and followed her down the hallway.

“Mom?” she called out. “I came to drop by some food.”

A high-pitched yapping and the scurrying of nails on the hardwood floor greeted them halfway down the hallway. A black and white dog that looked like a mix of a giant Chihuahua and a bulldog stopped in front of Annabelle and barked its little head off. Annabelle ignored the thing and kept walking.

When the animal realized it wasn’t going to get its desired attention from her, it moved on to Blake, exhibiting the same obnoxious yipping and jumping up and down on its short little legs.

“Just ignore the heathen,” Annabelle told him.

Blake eyed the dog, who kept up his constant yap yap yap. “What the hell kind of dog is this?”

Annabelle glanced at him, and tossed a death-ray stare at the little animal. “He’s a Boston terrier, but he thinks he’s a pit bull and has the attitude of a princess.” She stopped and lifted her foot, literally sliding the dog across the floor, who barked the entire time. “Just shove him aside.

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