Smoke And Ashes. Danica Winters

      Brittany thought that his avoidance was her fault? Brittany was her best friend, but if Heather told her what was truly going on and how close she was to divorce, the gossip would fly faster than cottonwood fluff in spring. Then again, if she didn’t explain, Brittany was likely to assume something far worse than the truth.

      “We’re going through a rough patch.”

      “I got that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at David like that before.”

      “Like what?”

      Brittany chewed on her lip. “Well... You looked desperate.” She said the word as if it left a foul taste.

      She could hardly admit that she was desperate, or Brittany wouldn’t just carry the foul taste for the word, she would have a foul taste for her, as well. She couldn’t lose her only girlfriend.

      “It’s hard, Brittany. One minute I can’t imagine my life without him, and the next I’m so angry. I’m so confused.”

      “What do you want?”

      “I don’t know, but I can’t give up.” She may not love him at the moment, but her mother had always told her that love varied in marriage—now was just a low.

      Heather took a drink, letting the tequila soak into her tongue. “How can I get him back?”

      “You’re talking to the right woman.” Brittany wiggled her finger. “I’ve got just the thing.”

      * * *

      “HAVE YOU SEEN COLTER?” Kevin asked, handing Lindsay a juice box.

      She shaded her eyes as she looked up at him from beside the pool.

      “Uh-uh. You think he’s still at practice?”

      Kevin glanced down at his watch. “He should’ve been done an hour ago.”

      “He’s gonna come. It’s okay, Daddy.”

      He nodded as he took out his cell and called his son. It went straight to voice mail.

      “Colter, this is Dad. Sorry I missed your practice. I had a thing with work. Lindsay and I are at the barbecue. Where are you? Give me a call. Love ya, bud.”

      He slid the phone into his pocket and walked toward a long table filled with food. He popped a stuffed mushroom into his mouth, savoring the flavor as Bob Marley & the Wailers sang in the background.

      His phone buzzed. “Colter?” he asked without looking at the screen.

      “No, Kevin. It’s Detective Lawrence. I got your message.”

      “Thanks for getting back to me. Did you get a chance to run by the house?”

      “Yeah, your guys showed me around. Thanks for waiting.”

      “Sorry. I had a meeting.”

      “A meeting where they play Bob Marley?” Lawrence sounded annoyed.

      “You know how it is,” Kevin answered with an awkward laugh. He didn’t need Lawrence to think of him as anything less than professional, and he was already on his last leg after leaving in the middle of an investigation. “Did you get a chance to pull up Goldstein’s record?”

      “She has a few citations, but nothing major. Certainly nothing that would make me think she would be behind an arson. Then again, it’s the ones you don’t see coming...” Detective Lawrence sighed. “You got any suspects?”

      “I’m looking into it.”

      “You haven’t spoken to Goldstein yet?”

      “Not yet.”

      Kevin’s breath caught in his throat as Heather made her way out of the back door of the Millers’ house with Brittany close at her heels. He couldn’t help notice she’d changed clothes. A pink miniskirt now hugged the round arch of Heather’s hips and she wore a white shirt with a cut so deep that it exposed her navel. For a moment, everything and everyone at the block party went silent. The only sound was the lapping of the pool.

      Lawrence said something, but Kevin couldn’t make out his words.

      She was so beautiful standing there with curves he never knew she had. The wind fingered the edge of the V-neck top, exposing the roundness of each of her breasts.

      What would it be like to kiss that skin—that gorgeous, fresh skin? His mouth watered as he imagined running his lips over her body.

      “Kevin, you there?”

      “Huh?”

      He tried to look away.

      “Are you listening?”

      “Sorry, what did you say?”

      “I said let me know if you need anything.”

      “Sounds great. I gotta run,” Kevin said, forcing himself to stop staring.

      The woman was his neighbor. She was married. No matter how badly he wanted her, she was off-limits.

       Chapter Five

      Her mind swam in the relaxing surf of her second margarita. The world around her had mellowed; there were no more harsh whispers or judging stares. Just a hot pink miniskirt and Brittany by her side.

      “You have this,” Brittany whispered.

      “You think he cares?”

      Brittany rolled her eyes. “David’s going to eat this up. You look beautiful.”

      Heather reached down and tried to inch the skirt lower. David always gawked at the women who wore this type of thing. Hopefully he’d be just as happy to see her in such an outfit.

      “Here he comes.” Brittany nodded toward David, who was staring wide-eyed at her. “I told you this would get his attention. From the looks of things, you got everyone else’s, as well. I wish I got that kind of reaction.” She giggled and gave Heather a quick side hug and then walked away. David strode over.

      “What in the hell, Heather?” he seethed through a smile of gritted teeth. He grabbed her by the back of the arm and moved her so their faces were concealed.

      She looked back over her shoulder. Every adult was staring at them—even Kevin. His mouth was open, as if he wanted to say something, but she quickly looked away.

      “Don’t I look nice?” she said loudly, hoping David would catch the hint that they were on display.

      “You look great,” he said, but the way his fingers dug into her soft flesh said exactly the opposite.

      He turned and nodded toward Nathan. “Thanks for dinner. We have to be going.”

      Nathan nodded and waved with a paper umbrella in his hand.

      “What in the hell do you think you’re wearing?” David dragged her out of the gate and toward his Porsche.

      “You’re hurting me. Please, let go,” she said, her drink-slowed words coming out of her lips as though they were coming from someone else, someone bolder.

      “I’m hurting you? Do you know how much you just embarrassed me?”

      He’d been embarrassing her for years—when he hadn’t shown up to dinner dates, when he had forgotten to come home at night and when he had called her names in front of their friends. Now he was telling her she was embarrassing him?

      It might have been the margaritas, but she couldn’t even look at him.

      He pushed her into the passenger seat of his coupe and then went to his side and got in.

      “You’re such a slut.”

      A feeling of sickness rose in her throat.