Mitchell was suddenly standing in front of her with his arms folded across his chest. “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice tinged with annoyance. He was still wearing the same jeans and snug blue t-shirt from the previous night, looking wrinkled and rumpled.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Amelia shot back. She turned to Eric and said, “You want to go out for breakfast? I still have a few empty booths to fill up at the fair and could use some ideas.”

Eric grinned. “Sounds good. Meet you at the car in twenty minutes.” He walked past Mitchell as if he wasn’t there and headed into the house.

“You’re not going,” Mitchell whispered, refusing to meet her eyes.

“And why is that?” Amelia finished her last stretch and walked around the side of the house to her bedroom doors, Mitchell trailing along behind her. He was sending off an unmistakable vibe. Annoyance with a splash of jealousy palpitated from him.

Amelia walked through the French doors and headed towards the en suite bathroom for a shower. Mitchell placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her before she could shut the door. “Because I said so?” he asked hopefully. He spun her around and gave her a set of sad puppy-dog eyes.

Amelia laughed. She wasn’t about to fall for those eyes. “When are you going to learn that I don’t really care what you said?”

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “You’re only doing this to get back at me. You’re letting your jealousy over Fiona get the better of you.”

At the mention of her name, Amelia felt as if she was suddenly caught in a wind tunnel; her hair whipped around her face, and sparks flickered from her fingertips just itching to be set free. A storm gathered around her, looming over her, and Mitchell’s anger at her reaction intensified it.

“This has nothing to do with jealousy, you big jerk,” Amelia said in a lethal tone. “You really aren’t that amazing.”

That kicked Mitchell’s anger up a notch, and Amelia laughed on the inside. She knew it was petty to egg him on like this, but hey, she was pretty sure he deserved it.

“You’re overreacting, love.” He tried to sound soft, but he had an edge of anger in his tone.

“I am not, and don’t call me that,” Amelia raged on. “Figure out what’s more important, Mitch.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

The storm grew around Amelia, and her face clouded with blinding anger. “Where were you last night?”

Mitchell didn’t respond. Guilt poured from him, and it gave Amelia another jolt to fuel her.

Suddenly the doors to their bedroom flung open. “Mitchell and Amelia, enough!” Mabel shouted. “Your fighting has to stop now.”

Mitchell focused his increasing anger on Mabel. “Do not speak to me like that,” he snarled.

“You’re acting like a child,” she countered, not in the least thrown off by his outburst. She stomped over to Amelia and cupped her face in her hands. “Take a deep breath, child. He is not worth your anger.”

Amelia locked eyes with Mabel, breathing deeply and pushing the anger aside. “I’m sorry, Mabel,” Amelia said. “You’re right.”

Mabel held onto her for another moment, making sure Amelia was under control and then nodded, dropping her hands. “Now, you go have a shower. Eric’s waiting for you.”

CHAPTER 6

By the time Amelia had taken a shower and finished getting dressed, Mitchell had locked himself up in the study off the library. Supposedly, he had business to attend to, but Amelia was pretty sure he was just avoiding her. It seemed obvious since he wasn’t even using their private office. And come to think of it, she was almost positive that no one had used the study since she had moved in.

Angelle and Tyler decided to tag along for breakfast, and although Eric seemed irritated by the company, the others seemed oblivious to it. They ended up at Basket of Beans, the only diner in town that served an all-day breakfast. Amelia loved the cozy little place, which had a down-home country feel. Picnic table-style booths lined the walls, and plaid ruffled curtains hung on the windows.

Amelia sipped her coffee, which tasted slightly burnt, as she flipped through the menu trying to decide what she wanted.

“So what’s up with you and Mitch?” Angelle asked nonchalantly, keeping her eyes peeled on the menu as if it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

Amelia didn’t answer right away, and she was tempted to pretend that she hadn’t heard the question. What was she supposed to say? Where should she start? And seriously, she was pretty sure Angelle already knew that Mitchell had been staying out all night for the past week, given that she had been tagging along with him on his little excursions with Fiona. Deciding she really didn’t want to dive in and talk about her Mitchell problems, she smiled sweetly and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then she shifted her gaze to Tyler and said, “Have you decided what you’re having? I kind of want pancakes, but eggs also sound good. I love dipping my toast in the yolk.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Angelle cut in before Tyler had a chance to answer. “Talk to us, sweetie,” she cooed, reaching across the table and squeezing Amelia’s hand. “What’s going on with you two?”

Amelia yanked her hand away in disgust. Why did everyone always have to butt in? “Nothing’s going on, Angelle, so drop it.”

Eric chuckled. “I’m getting the pancakes.” He closed the menu and placed it to the side. “I’ll share if you want to get the eggs, but I want your bacon.” Amelia was so relieved he changed the subject that she wanted to hug him.

Unfortunately, Angelle didn’t take the hint. “We all saw the cot,” she whispered. “I had no idea. I thought…” she waved a hand dismissively. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. You need to step up your game, especially with Barbie bitch here. You can’t let her sink her nasty ass claws into him.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and asked, “So what exactly did you guys do on your vacation?”

Amelia’s eyes widened and a blush settled onto her cheeks as she watched Tyler squirm a little, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening to the conversation. “Angelle, not now,” she said. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about this in front of the boys. Angelle’s eyes were alight, waiting for all the juicy details, and Amelia looked at Eric for help, but he just shrugged and mouthed I tried. She sighed and shut her menu. Why couldn’t her friends be oblivious? Did they really have to notice everything? And frankly, this was the last thing she wanted to discuss. “Really, it’s so not the most important thing right now. Did you completely miss the fact that he’s been letting them hunt?” She made a point of looking at the boys as she said it, hoping Angelle would take the hint.

It took an embarrassingly long second but Angelle figured it out, and then she snorted and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Come on, Amelia. You’re smart. You already knew they were still hunting. You knew it wouldn’t be that easy to stop it, and you know he didn’t talk to you about it, because you would flip. And clearly, he wasn’t wrong.”

“I still can’t believe that you knew and didn’t tell me,” Tyler said, the hurt echoing in his voice. Angelle batted her big, child-like brown eyes at him, and he grinned, apparently forgetting that he was supposed to be upset. As usual, Angelle looked like a glossy magazine photo—perfect hair, pouty lips, porcelain skin—and most men just ate it up, giving her whatever she wanted. Her boyfriend was certainly no exception.

“Have y’all decided,” the server popped over, thankfully interrupting the conversation. She went around the table, topping off their coffees and taking their orders, before scampering away with a big smile on her face.

“You’re just pissed because of Fiona, and you know it,” Angelle whispered as soon as the server was out of hearing range. Amelia opened her mouth to spit out a nasty comment, but Angelle kept right on talking. “If you’re going to try to tell me you aren’t pissed about her, save it.”

Amelia shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.” She knew it didn’t sound believable, and Angelle didn’t fall for it.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it so butt out,” Eric said vehemently, and then clamped his mouth shut when he received a nerve-racking look from Angelle.

Amelia didn’t mean to acknowledge her suspicions. The idea of saying them out loud made them seem all too real. But there was something about being with her friends that made all her wild, irrational worries bubble to the surface, and before she could stop herself, everything tumbled out of her in a mess of words. “How could he screw around with her? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to love him.”

“I doubt he is actually screwing around,” Angelle said. “Did you check?”

“Nope. And I’m not going to,” Amelia said stubbornly. “I’m not going to give him the chance to start all that controlling listening in crap again. You know how crazy it was. He overreacts about everything.”

“I really don’t get your rules,” Tyler said, shaking his head, and then an idea crossed his mind. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the move?”

“That’s it!” Angelle squealed in excitement and clapped her hands together. She gave Amelia a widespread and enchanting smile. “You should seduce him. March up to him, bat your pretty eyes, and make your move.”

Eric grunted and looked like he was about to say something, but the server cut him off, placing a steaming plate of pancakes in front of him. He soaked them in butter and syrup and dug in before she had finished putting down everyone’s meals.

Amelia was glad that Angelle seemed satisfied with her little plan, and she didn’t feel the need to keep pushing for information. She chattered a million miles a minute about what Amelia should wear and how her hair should be styled—up in a sexy bun with a few ringlets falling strategically over her eyes.