Free Secondhand Smoke (Dartmoor Book 4) by Lauren Gilley Page A

talk like this, or she won’t learn. Erin, you’re lucky you weren’t raped today. Gang-raped. Killed! Don’t you understand that? I’m not trying to wreck your fun. I’m trying to keep you from getting pregnant, from getting hooked on drugs, from getting expelled from school. I’m trying to protect you, damn it.”
                  “Sam, that’s enough,” Mom said.
                  Erin blinked, and lifted a sleeve to her face…to dab at the building tears.
                  Sam pushed out of her chair and crossed the kitchen in three long strides. Out the back door, shutting it firmly behind her. She needed some air. Heaping bucketfuls of air.
                  Evening crept in with stealthy cool strides; it skirted across her ankles and reminded her that she was barefoot. She’d changed from her work clothes into cropped jeans and a soft t-shirt, one she wished was long-sleeved as she hugged her torso and turned the corner of the house, stepping into the direct draft of the breeze.
                  A motorcycle sat at the end of the driveway. Aidan swung off of it, removed his helmet, lifted his head toward her. She felt the touch of his eyes across the distance, and didn’t care what he was doing here, or how long he would stay, only that the sight of him made it a little easier to breathe.
                  “Your sister okay?” he asked as she reached him.
                  “Apparently I was being too hard on her with the whole lecture thing, but otherwise, yeah. She’s fine. Learning nothing from her mistakes as usual.”
                  “Hmm.” He studied her a moment, helmet in his hands, expression hard to read. “You usually save that kinda attitude for me. You musta been harsh.”
                  She sighed…but grinned a little. “I was just born to be a party pooper, I guess. And there’s no bigger sin than ruining everybody’s good time.”
                  “I want to disagree with you.”
                  “Want to?”
                  “But I can’t. Sorry. You’re a total sinner.”
                  They both laughed at the same time, and it released a tension valve inside her, lightened her insides, brightened her heart. He had a good laugh: deep, rich, smoky on the edges. A man’s laugh, and not a boy’s dorky honking.
                  Careful , her conscience warned. Don’t let yourself go to that place again, that stupid hopeless wanting .
                  She told her conscience to stuff it. “Did you find out anything about the dealer?”
                  He sobered, nodding. “That’s why I came by. I had a little chat with Jesse earlier.”
                  She shivered, and clamped her arms tighter against her sides. If she was honest with herself, she knew the chill had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with Aidan looking serious and purposeful as he addressed her problems. “Charming little shit, isn’t he?”
                  “Yeah.” He snorted. “Merc and I–”
                  She grinned. “Oh, damn.”
                  “ – managed to get a phone number off him, but he didn’t know the guy’s name. I called the number.” He looked sympathetic. “It’s out of service.”
                  She deflated.
                  “My guess is it’s a disposable, and he ditched it.”
                  “Makes sense.” She sounded numb and disappointed, and knew it.
                  “I’m gonna look into it, though,” Aidan said. “I’ll figure out who’s doing it, and I’ll shut it down.”
                  “You can do that?” Hope blossomed anew.
                  “Baby, I can do all kinds of things,” he said,