Fireworks (True North, #6)

by Sarina Bowen

“What did she call you?” I ask. “Did she say, bimbo?” “I’m pretty sure it was Benbo,” he corrects. “BIMBO!” the toddler yells. Then she grins evilly. I love her already.

“Skylar,” she says with a sniff. “I’m so happy to see you.” Okay, that’s even more unexpected than almost having sex with her brother.

“This place is great. And that baby is seriously cute.” “Not baby.” The little girl pouts. She doesn’t think much of me. It must be genetic.

Some amusing person has chalked the following sentiment up there: If you love someone, set him free. If he returns with a cup of coffee, he’s a keeper.

Zara had a fling with a professional athlete. Then they went their separate ways for two years. It was all kinds of drama. But then he came back this past summer and now they’re going strong together.”

I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” “Yes.” I always have before.

Where is my stepsister, who tossed her house, and why did she want that kayak?

Benito seems to think that Rayanne could be involved in something illegal. But come on. No password?

I would give anything right now to climb onto that giant old lounge chair in the woods and lay my head on his shoulder—the only place in Vermont where I’d ever felt safe.

I’m floored all over again. Seeing her again is a shock to my system. Countless nights I’ve had dreams just like this—that I’d look up to finally see her face.

I used to look for her in crowds. I wondered where she was, what she was doing. I wanted to know if she had friends, and if she ever thought about her difficult year in Vermont.

“Are you all right?” She gulps. “Yeah. Of course.” But that’s the same answer she always used to give me. And when I look closer, she’s too pale.

I can barely breathe. Because it’s a cruel trick to have her back and to know that the same evil man is still standing between me and Skye, and between Skye and happiness.

“You’re the only good guy on earth, Benito. Swear to God.” It’s not true. But I sure like hearing it.

Maybe sex always lets me down, but hand-holding is pretty great.

“Why is she asking, anyway?” His big brown eyes bore into mine. Because she knows you’re my biggest regret. I won’t admit it, though.

“You look like everything I ever wanted,”

“But we’re all terribly curious.” “Curious? About me?” She grins. “Of course! You disappeared completely. You didn’t even come to the last week of school. And Benito was heartbroken.

I have a job and a life. Okay—it’s a cruddy job and a quiet life. But a girl can’t just pick up and move to Vermont because everyone is suddenly more friendly than they used to be.

He’s so, so beautiful.

I would have followed him anywhere. But that’s not how it turned out.

Skye has no dress. She’s already worn everything in Rayanne’s closet, and there aren’t any dresses at all. Skye can’t spend her babysitting money on a dress, either. She’s saving up for a bus ticket to Aunt Jenny’s.

That’s Benito for you. He won’t let anything bad happen to Skye.

Shy girls like her don’t end up with the Benitos of the world, anyway.

It’s magical to hang out with the Rossis. Skye has always wanted a big family.

Every time something funny happens on screen, Benito laughs, and the sound of it warms her frightened little heart.

When I wake up to see Skye beside me in the bed, all I can do is smile. How many times have I slept alone, wishing she was there? Too many.

“How come you’re the only single Rossi?” Her blue eyes study me. Because I was waiting for you.

But the text isn’t related to our case. It’s from my fuck buddy.

Besides, I’d rather be done with hookups and bachelorhood. If only I can convince Skye to stick around.

Okay, maybe there’s something wrong with me. Rayanne is missing and my life is in turmoil. And what am I thinking about? Benito’s hands on my bare skin.

“I’m sorry, but my IQ is compromised right now, because you’re wearing my bathrobe and you’re essentially naked on my bed.”

Benito makes a show of looking at his watch, as if a great deal of time has elapsed. Then he turns his chin and looks at me. “Holy fuck,” he says, his voice strained. “I guess that was time well spent.”

“Don’t you like Vermont?” “Nope. Can’t say I do.”

“I’ve got it. We’ll just give you some Vermont aversion therapy.” “And what would that entail, exactly?” “I’m afraid you’ll have to milk a cow, and then scrape shit off your shoes.”

He’s smeared himself with my Chanel lipstick, so I cup his chin and wipe it off with my thumb.

Honey. I like the sound of that too much. Every time he says it, I light up inside.

I always thought I’d left behind a backwater of a town for better opportunities. But I keep finding things to like about this place, darn it.

I swear I can’t look away from this man. I couldn’t tell you who else is in this room right now, because only one person here interests me.

I hear my mother let out a shriek from across the room. And when I look up, she’s locked onto us like a heat-seeking missile.

As she comes barreling toward us, with a look of ecstasy on her face, I can almost hear her planning my wedding.

“Oh, thank you, baby Jesus!” Mom skids to a stop in front of Skylar. “Honey. I can’t believe my eyes! You are six inches taller and twice as beautiful as you were at sixteen. And you were already a very pretty, very tall girl then.”

Poor Skye is literally getting hug-mugged by my mother.

You know, Benny has been moping around here for more than a decade wondering what became of you.” Just shoot me already.

“I love tiramisu!” my mother gasps. But what she really means is, How many grandchildren will you give me?

“Well, can I hold him, then? I’m Skylar, by the way. I guess I should have said that before asking to hold your newborn.”

my girl

“He’s August Griffin Shipley the fourth.”

As I’ve said before, love at first sight is totally real. And I think Skye just fell head over heels for an infant in a bear suit.

Griffin crows. The big man has been beaming nonstop since the day of his child’s birth—anyone can see how happy he is.