The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

And God, she looked good. Her hair pulled back in a tail, those green eyes full of smiles for him.

He drew her in, held on.

And didn’t see the concerned look she sent Cleo over his shoulder.

“It’s fish and chips night at the manor.” Though she answered Sonya’s look, Cleo kept her voice cheerful. “Let me get you a beer.”

“Sounds good. Appreciate it.”

He let Sonya go, skimmed a hand down her hair. “Before I forget, I’m supposed to tell you Owen invited himself over tomorrow.”

“Oh, hot date tonight?”

He shot Cleo a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, then took the beer she offered. “Yeah, with a doghouse for a certain Jedi Master. So, how about I feed the pets, and you tell me this story you’ve got? You said it’s a good one.”

Sonya took his hand to stop him. “After you sit down and tell me what’s wrong,”

“Nothing. Just some work stuff.”

“No, it’s not. You’re so angry, and more than just angry, so it’s more. It’s easy to hide that in a text like last night, though I don’t know why you would. We are in a relationship, aren’t we?”

“I’ll feed the rest of the crew,” Cleo announced, and got busy.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

“If you being angry and upset doesn’t have anything to do with that, which also means me, what are we doing here?”

“Jesus, Sonya, give it a rest.”

She gave that due consideration for about two seconds. “I’m going to say no to that, even though you’re clearly ready to take out your pissed-off mood on me.”

“I should take my pissed-off mood back to my place.”

“That would be one choice.”

“I’m just going to step outside awhile,” Cleo began.

“Don’t. It’s snowing some.”

At Trey’s announcement, Sonya glanced toward the windows. “Well, that just adds to it. And you stay right where you are, Cleo, while Trey decides whether to treat me like some helpless female.”

“How am I—”

“By assuming you can take on all my problems, but I’m not capable of helping you with yours.”

“I’m not doing that. That’s bullshit.” And, he realized, they’d hear about it all anyway, so fighting about it equaled stupidity.

“Wes Mooney made bail yesterday, toward the end of the business day.”

“Wes… Isn’t that your client’s—that’s Marlo?—her ex-husband?”

“Right.” And because it was still in his hand, he took the first draw on his beer.

“After what he did?” Outrage vibrated in every word. “How did he get out on bail?”

“They set it high, out-of-reach high, but his parents mortgaged their house. It helped he didn’t fight custody of the kids, or Marlo moving out of state. So along with his lawyer slow-walking any plea deal, he made bail.

“He had restrictions,” Trey added, “travel, contacting Marlo. He agreed to attend AA, had a friend agree to give him a place to stay.”