Free Sandra Hill - [Jinx] by Pink Jinx Page A

often on one fad diet or another. This week it was grapefruit. That should make for an interesting menu on board.
    “What? Why are you all gawking at me?” Brenda asked.
    “They’s all lookin’ at yer butt, bless their hearts,” Tante Lulu said. “My buns usta look like that before they disappeared.”
    The rest of them just about choked on their tongues.
    “So, did you ever work with Dale Earnhardt, Sr.?” John asked quickly before Brenda clouted the three of them.
    “Sure. I was in his pit crew for three years.”
    Brenda could have just as easily said she used to be God’s right-hand angel, so impressed was the boy. He sidled up closer to Brenda, who eyed him like a bothersome gnat.
    Tante Lulu harrumphed in disgust, knowing her nephew better than the rest of them. “She’s too old fer you, boy.”
    “Hey, I’m only thirty-three,” Brenda said, even though she obviously had no interest in the young man.
    “
Chère,
I always did like older women.” John waggled his eyes at Brenda.
    Brenda gave John a full-body survey, which was not complimentary. “Honey, I would crush you if I sat on you.”
    John shook his head sharply. “No, no, no! You can sit on me anytime.”
    “That’ll be enough of that kind of talk,” Tante Lulu scolded her nephew, slapping him on the upper arm.
    “You and every other man in this room couldn’t keep up with me,” Brenda said, walking away.
    “Hey!” Jake and Frank and John said at the same time, just a little bit insulted. Then they all watched Brenda’s very curvy butt sway from side to side.
    “Mercy!” John drawled.
    They all burst out laughing.
    “Men!” Tante Lulu said, which just about summed up the situation.
    Soon after that, Tante Lulu and John left for Newark, where the old lady was taking a plane back to Louisiana. It was a given that on the drive the boy’s ears would be blistered about behaving himself while working on the Pink Project. It was also a given that the boy would have a wild time anyhow. Apparently, Henri Pinot had gotten the diving job for John as a way to keep him out of trouble. Jake suspected that was a losing battle.
    Ronnie continued talking to the jerk Adam Famosa. They’d been joined by Caleb Peachey, the tall guy with the military haircut, who, it turned out, was a former Navy SEAL and a former Amish. If that wasn’t an oxymoron . . . An Amish SEAL. There had to be a story there.
    Ronnie had cleaned herself up after their ride from hell, and the two dudes were clearly as aware as he of how well Ronnie cleaned up. Occasionally, Famosa would put a hand on her forearm as he talked to her. Peachey kept his hands to himself and was mostly quiet, but Jake could see how much the guy was attracted to Ronnie, too.
    He stuck a hand in his pocket and frantically rubbed the beads between his fingertips.
    I have got to cut this out. It’s like I’ve got a death wish. Ronnie is not mine anymore. I have no right to be jealous. She and I have gone our separate ways—happily. Get a life, dimwit!
    “What are you mumbling about?”
    The soft ring of his cell phone saved Jake from answering.
    “Jensen here.”
    “Jake, it’s Trish. We need to talk.”
    Oh, great! When a woman says, “We need to talk,” it usually means she has a bug in her ear.
“Baby, this is definitely not the time. I’m in the middle of . . . something.”
    “I don’t mean over the phone. I meant . . .” She paused as if something just occurred to her. “Where are you?”
    “Barnegat.”
    A telling silence followed.
    She probably thought he was buck naked in bed with Ronnie. That’s the way women’s brains worked. He put her out of her misery by disclosing, “With Frank. At the Barnegat Inn.”
    “Oh.” He heard the relief in her voice. But then she asked, “Is . . . is Ronnie there?”
    Women! Why can’t they just let things ride? Why do they have to prod and prod and prod till there’s an open wound? Then they wonder why men do stupid things, like tell