Finding Mayhem

by Layla Frost

“Thank you for your help.” When his eyes dropped to my belly, I wanted to bite his head off for the implication before I realized I was unconsciously rubbing it. Concern tightened his handsome features, and I was pretty sure I hated that worse than the sympathy. “You good?” At his softly spoken question, I had my confirmation. Yup. Definitely hate it more. “Just tight muscles and a long day,” I said, forcing a bigger smile. I was good at that. Or so I thought. But suddenly I wasn’t so confident because Hollywood’s gaze zeroed in on my mouth and his own curved into a small scowl. Go. Go. Get out! In a blink, his odd look was gone as he closed the distance between us. And I closed the distance between me and the door, needing all the space I could get from this badass wall who could read me too well. “You need anything, I’m right next door. My prez’s old lady is a nurse. Day or night. Got it?” Not really. I had critical thinking skills, so I deduced he was talking about the Court of Mayhem president—and not the president of the country. I’d just never had friendly neighbors who helped unload vans and offered more than the occasional greeting. “Once again, I’m only pregnant, not deathly ill.” I gave a small laugh as I added, “I’m just embarrassingly out of shape.” An engine revved, and I jolted. My gaze flew outside to see a little red car speed by, the back all souped-up with spoilers and fins and whatever else people did to make their cars sound like they didn’t have muffle...