Free Out of the Ashes by Anne Malcom Page B

face.
    Fuck. She was so fuckin’ beautiful he could hardly think straight. Not only that, she was funny. With her daughter, they had an easy relationship, happy. She was a good mom.
    “Seriously, thanks,” she said in a small voice. “For paying, and for actually coming. Lexie’s very particular about who comes to the movies with us, so you should feel blessed for a second invitation. They are as prestigious as invites to royal weddings,” she joked.
    Bull wanted to laugh, to smile. He was focusing on not doing that. Had to. He couldn’t let his guard down around her. Not for a moment. That’s why he was silent.
    Her grin turned shaky. “Anyway,” she continued, eyes darting around the cab, looking anywhere but him. “See you round,” she finished quickly, and gave him the quickest glimpse of her eyes before she was gone.
    Bull actually breathed a sigh of relief when her presence left. He needed to get this shit sorted. He couldn’t have a female fucking with him. Not again. He knew how that shit ended. He couldn’t think of her either. Not without going full dark side. So he had to make sure Mia and Lexie Spencer never entered his life again. How the fuck he was going to make sure of that when he lived across the street from them he had no clue.

 
    “I’m pretty sure I’m going to explode,” Lexie declared, plonking herself down on our sofa.
    I sank into the armchair across from her, sprawling my arms and legs out. “Me too,” I agreed. Although I was referring to my libido, which had undergone a serious freaking challenge in the past two hours. Plus, I was grossly full considering I shoveled food into my mouth at twice my normal rate in order to distract myself.
    “That was fun, though, I’m glad Zane came. He’s a cool guy,” she said simply, laying her head back.
    I gave her a look. “Yeah, he’s real cool. And a chatterbox. God, he hardly shut up the entire time,” I said sarcastically.
    She lifted her head. “Okay, so he isn’t the most articulate man on the planet. I find it refreshing. I like him,” she informed me.
    “Yes, well, you also seemed to like someone a lot more articulate earlier today.” I decided to change the subject, not only to get my mind off the seriously sexy Zane, but to get the deets on the little troublemaker from the garage.
    “What are you talking about?” Lexie asked.
    “The kid from today, who was channeling Danny Zuko?” I said casually. I didn’t want to make it a big deal, nor give her an inkling I really didn’t approve of her canoodling with such a character. No matter how well-behaved my teenager was, a parent’s disapproval was the biggest motivator in any situation.
    Lexie eyed me. “Oh, that’s Killian. We were talking about Tolstoy. He’s one of those crazy people that actually reads ,” she said sarcastically.
    I ignored the not so subtle stab at my intelligence. “Killian?” I repeated. Oh God, not only did he have a bad ass name and the bad ass physique to go with it, he also liked books? Shit.
    She nodded, idly flipping channels on the TV. “Yeah, unusual name. I asked him about it, his family’s Irish,” she said distractedly.
    Irish? This situation had escalated from and oh shit to an oh fuck moment. It seemed both of the Spencer girls were tied up with men who were not healthy for us. At least Lexie looked like she had a chance with hers. Mine was likely going to make a voodoo doll out of my likeness.
     

     
    “Mom, I don’t get what the big deal is. Go over there, drop off the cake, say thank you and leave,” Lexie called to me while I was leaning against the door of her room.
    “Why can’t you do it?” I whined, “You’re the one who baked the cake in question, I feel like it’s appropriate that you deliver it.”
    Lexie emerged from her room, slinging a fringed bag over her shoulder. “Because I am meeting some classmates for my English project,” she explained, stuffing a dangerously boring looking textbook