Free Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series) by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

next morning, Jake and I got up and took our coffee out to the deck. June in Georgia was sweltering, and the only time it was cool enough to sit outside without a cold beer or a frozen drink was before noon, so we took advantage of it when we could.
    J ake had a tiny bit of drool in the corner of his mouth and I couldn’t decide if it was because I wore my hot mama pajamas – baby blue men’s plaid boxers and a tank top – or he forgot to wipe off his sleep spit. He, however, sported a look only a wife could love. A pair of workout shorts and a Harley tee shirt – because those are the only kind of tee shirts he owned. He liked to pretend he was a bad boy and I let him live in his fantasy world.
    “Aren’t we just the hot and sexy couple of the year?”
    “Your sinuses bothering you? You sound funny."
    Well, great, I gave him sexy and raspy, and he heard nasal. We were in serious need of a date night.
    “So how was your trip? You haven’t really told me much about it.” Jake had been in NYC. I loved NYC, and was jealous of his twice-monthly trips there. Mel and I went for a girls’ weekend last October and trucked across the city looking for the perfect cupcake. We called it the cupcake tour, but never picked the perfect cupcake. There were too many contenders and when I say too many, I meant a lot. Red Velvet. Chocolate Chip. Vanilla Supreme with Cream Cheese Icing (my personal favorite). It was a virtual cupcake-gasm for three days and it took me three weeks of an extra thirty minutes on the treadmill every day to lose the weight I gained. And I really hated the treadmill.
    “Trip was good.” Jake rambled on about architecture and building stability, and about how, on his current project, the architect refused to use a certain type of stone, but the builder insisted he was going to use it anyway because the building would fall over if he didn’t, and it was all way over my head. Sometimes when he rambled on about work, I felt like my dog. All I heard was “blah, blah, blah, Angela,” but I learned how to nod, and shake my head at the appropriate times, whereas the dog just put her head down and snored. At least I pretended to be interested.
    It was even harder to listen when Ma floated behind him as he talked, and her hands mimicked his, with her face all intense and passionate like his was. She made it hard to stay focused on what he said. I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
    “What’s so funny?”
    Ma immediately stopped, and fell into a fit of laughter. “Ah Madone, you’re in trouble now, Ang. You want I should try to move something? You know, to distract him? I’ve been practicing.”
    I bit my tongue to keep from giggling harder and pretended to examine something on my foot.
    “Oh, nothing. Sorry. I was just laughing at your hands. You know, if you ever break one, you won’t be able to talk. At least not until the cast came off.”
    Jake frowned at me but continued his story, and I got distracted watching my mother’s performance all over again. “Well, has he?”
    I realized I hadn’t heard a word he said. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “You haven’t listened to a thing I’ve said, have you?”
    Whoops, busted.
    “Yes I have, actually.” I did hear the stuff about the architect and the builder. “You were talking about the architect and the builder disagreeing about the type of stone to use,” I said proudly.
    Jake sighed. “That was at least five minutes ago, Ang. I just asked you if Josh has said anything more about seeing Fran.”
    “Oh, yeah, sorry.” I quickly decided not to tell him about the memorial service and how Ma was there cracking Josh up. He was so in his element – being social and talking to everyone – he didn’t even know that Josh served coffee and drinks, so I didn’t think he noticed Josh appeared to be laughing to himself. “He hasn’t mentioned anything, no.”
    “What about you? Still dreaming about her?”
    If you consider hanging out and