Free Soft Target by Mia Kay Page A

ceiling creaked overhead.
    Glen spoke first. “Max is a good kid. He’ll take care of her. Don’t worry. But we need to talk about the auction.”
    “Auction?” Gray’s stomach plummeted. “What auction ?”
    “The hospital auxiliary does a bachelorette auction every year,” Nate explained. “Maggie’s their biggest fund-raiser.”
    “Not this year. You have to tell her she can’t do it.”
    “The last time I told her she couldn’t do something, we were five,” Nate said. “And she shoved a Lego up my nose.”
    Gray stared at the ceiling, imagining someone else standing here, in the dark, listening to her. “We should just tell her the truth.”
    “Yeah, well, I think she’s learned a few new places to put Legos over the last thirty years.” Nate said. “You’d better dust off your tux.”
    After ten minutes, Maggie came back downstairs with Max as her shadow. She had her bag in one hand and her phone in the other. She hung up as she reached Gray. “The sub will be here at three.”
    “I’ll stick around and help get him settled,” he offered.
    “I’ll take you home,” Nate said. “C’mon.”
    “You will not,” she said. “You have work to do, and I have appointments.”
    “She wants to have lunch with Charlene,” Max explained.
    “Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” Maggie snapped. She closed her eyes, and Gray would’ve sworn he saw her lips move as she counted to ten. When she opened them again, she was calm. “Sorry, Max. Look, I’ll stay away from work tonight. I’ll even sleep in my pink frilly bedroom at ho—Nate’s house. But I won’t rearrange my life because of this. I can’t.”
    Gray walked her to the waiting cruiser and laughed as she scowled out the window. He stood on the porch and watched until the car rounded the corner of the square and disappeared. Then he strode into the bar. Glen was already on the phone, arranging shifts so Max could serve protection detail.
    In his office, Gray tried not to be creeped out by someone sneaking through his stuff. It wasn’t his office anyway. His office was in Chicago, with a view of Lake Michigan if you leaned over the credenza and tilted your head just right.
    His phone rang. Gimme three steps... Shelby. Damn. Gray stared at it and debated sending her to voice mail. She’d just call back. He tapped the screen and held his breath. “Hi, Shel. Why are you calling?”
    “Not quite the welcome I expected, but I’ll take it,” she said in her smoky, low-country drawl. “I’m a little tired from my flight, but other than that I’m fine.”
    He thumped into his desk chair. “Flight? Where are you?”
    “Boise. I just need to pick up my rental car and I’ll be on my way. According to my driving app, I should be in Fiddler by three.”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gray stammered through his surprise. “We’ve been through this. We agreed—”
    “Nate’s wedding invitation was addressed to both of us,” she reminded him. “We’ve RSVP’d. And I’ve lugged your damn diplomas through baggage claim, although God knows why you need them to be best man.”
    Gray’s head was splitting, and he fumbled in his desk drawer for his aspirin. Shoving a handful into his mouth, he grimaced at the bitter taste as he swallowed them dry. “Stay there. I’ll come see you tomorrow. Text me the name of the hotel.”
    “But—”
    “There’s more to keep you occupied in Boise. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up before she could continue to argue.
    Like that would stop her. It was all they’d done for the past few months. They’d never done that before. They’d worked together, partied together, vacationed together and slept together, but they’d been too busy to fight. And then he hadn’t been busy. Sitting still had given him a different perspective.
    He stared out the door and listened to Glen mutter in the main room. What the hell was Shelby really doing here? Grimacing, he stared into the hallway. He