Read Online Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) by Tracey Alvarez - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tracey Alvarez
Ads: Link
benefit.
Shaye-Shaye, who suspected the Westlake men coming to any sort of truce would be an epic battle worthy of the stubborn settlers from which they were descended.
***
Del left for the eight o’clock meeting alone, since West had headed out early to the local pool to swim laps at the crack of dawn. The walk would help clear Del’s mind, because with little sleep over the last forty-eight hours, a posse of tiny men tunneled through his frontal lobe with miniature jackhammers.
He waved goodbye to his future sister-in-law, narrowly avoiding having to ingest her version of scrambled eggs.
West hadn’t been kidding about Piper’s skills in the kitchen. After choking down two pizza slices the night before—doughy center and a singed crust—Del escaped downstairs with the convenient excuse of jetlag and the need for eight hours solid. He’d nursed a single beer over dinner and refused the offer of a second, keeping his gaze averted from the bottles in the pantry. Done and dusted with that poisonous shit. He kept the solo beer at the end of the night as a vice because it proved that one was enough. One beer needn’t lead to two, or half a dozen, or a shot of amber amnesia that lurked in those glass bottles.
Del walked down the hill until the narrow road connected with the main thoroughfare. Two fat grey-feathered birds waddled along a fence. One screeched in greeting, ruffling the shorter more colorful plumage around its neck. Kaka, his brain supplied after a moment. The raucous hooligans of the parrot family. Not something you encountered on the I10 into LA.
Goddamn, he’d forgotten how cold it got on this island—even on a spring morning. Del shoved his fists into the pockets of his coat. His boots kicking up tiny chunks of gravel, he dodged a few potholes filled with murky water. It’d started to spit by the time he’d returned from his run last night. The rain splattering the windows of his downstairs room kept him awake for another hour. While the exercise had done the job of exhausting him physically, mentally he’d been wired.
He forced a pleasant it’s great to be back expression on his face as he raised a hand to the few locals who called him by name—but kept his chin down and power-walked until he stomped up Due South’s front steps.
Bill waited for him in the restaurant, seated stiffly at a table for four, looking like a man out of place in his own environment. Why bother with fancy tablecloths and flax flowers in vases when they served swill night after night? And yeah, he’d commandeered a copy of the menu to study.
“You’re ten minutes early,” the old man grumbled to Del as he crossed the dining room.
Swallowing snark, Del merely grunted. He removed his coat and draped it over a chair. Someone had lit the open fire on the other side of the restaurant, and the wood popped and hissed. He sat opposite his father, pretending to examine the turquoise-themed water colors on the wall. Hoping West would hurry the hell up and arrive.
“Had breakfast?”
“No.” Silence ticked. Del’s knee bounced a few times until he laid a steadying fist on his thigh. He could do the painful small talk thing until West arrived. Surely.
He cleared his throat. “Piper wanted to make me eggs this morning.”
“No wonder you’re early.” Bill snorted out a laugh, which transformed into an embarrassed cough, just as West pulled out the chair beside Del.
“You two criticizing my woman’s eggs?” West slouched down with a grin, his hair still wet from the pool. “Watch it or I’ll tell her you were hinting for a Sunday brunch invitation.”
“You’ll laugh out the other side of your face once you’ve had to put up with her cooking for a few years, my boy.”
A wolfish grin from West, who tipped back his chair on two legs. “I do half the cooking, and besides, I don’t keep Pipe around for her kitchen skills.”
Shaye walked out of the short hallway connecting the dining room to
Shaye-Shaye, who suspected the Westlake men coming to any sort of truce would be an epic battle worthy of the stubborn settlers from which they were descended.
***
Del left for the eight o’clock meeting alone, since West had headed out early to the local pool to swim laps at the crack of dawn. The walk would help clear Del’s mind, because with little sleep over the last forty-eight hours, a posse of tiny men tunneled through his frontal lobe with miniature jackhammers.
He waved goodbye to his future sister-in-law, narrowly avoiding having to ingest her version of scrambled eggs.
West hadn’t been kidding about Piper’s skills in the kitchen. After choking down two pizza slices the night before—doughy center and a singed crust—Del escaped downstairs with the convenient excuse of jetlag and the need for eight hours solid. He’d nursed a single beer over dinner and refused the offer of a second, keeping his gaze averted from the bottles in the pantry. Done and dusted with that poisonous shit. He kept the solo beer at the end of the night as a vice because it proved that one was enough. One beer needn’t lead to two, or half a dozen, or a shot of amber amnesia that lurked in those glass bottles.
Del walked down the hill until the narrow road connected with the main thoroughfare. Two fat grey-feathered birds waddled along a fence. One screeched in greeting, ruffling the shorter more colorful plumage around its neck. Kaka, his brain supplied after a moment. The raucous hooligans of the parrot family. Not something you encountered on the I10 into LA.
Goddamn, he’d forgotten how cold it got on this island—even on a spring morning. Del shoved his fists into the pockets of his coat. His boots kicking up tiny chunks of gravel, he dodged a few potholes filled with murky water. It’d started to spit by the time he’d returned from his run last night. The rain splattering the windows of his downstairs room kept him awake for another hour. While the exercise had done the job of exhausting him physically, mentally he’d been wired.
He forced a pleasant it’s great to be back expression on his face as he raised a hand to the few locals who called him by name—but kept his chin down and power-walked until he stomped up Due South’s front steps.
Bill waited for him in the restaurant, seated stiffly at a table for four, looking like a man out of place in his own environment. Why bother with fancy tablecloths and flax flowers in vases when they served swill night after night? And yeah, he’d commandeered a copy of the menu to study.
“You’re ten minutes early,” the old man grumbled to Del as he crossed the dining room.
Swallowing snark, Del merely grunted. He removed his coat and draped it over a chair. Someone had lit the open fire on the other side of the restaurant, and the wood popped and hissed. He sat opposite his father, pretending to examine the turquoise-themed water colors on the wall. Hoping West would hurry the hell up and arrive.
“Had breakfast?”
“No.” Silence ticked. Del’s knee bounced a few times until he laid a steadying fist on his thigh. He could do the painful small talk thing until West arrived. Surely.
He cleared his throat. “Piper wanted to make me eggs this morning.”
“No wonder you’re early.” Bill snorted out a laugh, which transformed into an embarrassed cough, just as West pulled out the chair beside Del.
“You two criticizing my woman’s eggs?” West slouched down with a grin, his hair still wet from the pool. “Watch it or I’ll tell her you were hinting for a Sunday brunch invitation.”
“You’ll laugh out the other side of your face once you’ve had to put up with her cooking for a few years, my boy.”
A wolfish grin from West, who tipped back his chair on two legs. “I do half the cooking, and besides, I don’t keep Pipe around for her kitchen skills.”
Shaye walked out of the short hallway connecting the dining room to
Similar Books
