He smiled and shook his head again. “Jesus, you can’t even say it.”

My eyes narrowed and then I informed him, “I don’t need to say it to tell you it’s not going to happen again.”

His head jerked slightly back as he stared at me. Then he burst out laughing.

“Mitch!” I snapped, slapping his chest with one of my hands.

Still chuckling, he remarked, “Fuck, that was funny.”

“I wasn’t being funny,” I retorted.

Now only grinning, he said, “You’re tellin’ me after the three best kisses you’ve ever had, kisses you had with me, you’re never gonna kiss me again?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You’re standing in your bedroom, in my arms, wearin’ your cute nightie and robe, tellin’ me you’re never gonna kiss me again.”

“Yes!” I bit out.

“You’re cracked.”

“I am not!” My voice was rising.

“That’s okay, sweetheart, it’s cute.”

“I’m not cracked!”

Suddenly, his face was all I could see and that face was serious as a heart attack.

“It’s gonna happen again, Mara,” he promised me. “I’m gonna kiss you and you’re gonna kiss me. I’m gonna do other things to you and you’re gonna do other things to me. No way in hell even you can share a kiss with a man like the ones we shared last night and not explore where that could go.”

“Mitch –”

“Tell yourself all you want it’s not gonna happen but I’m tellin’ you, baby, it is.”

“I think –”

“That subject’s closed,” he announced. “Now we’re talkin’ about the Trailer Trash Twins.”

“We need to go back to the, um…”

He stared at me. When I stopped speaking and couldn’t start up again, he noted, “Jesus, you really can’t say it.”

Crap! I couldn’t!

“Whatever,” I muttered.

His arms gave me a squeeze. “Yeah, definitely cute.”

I glared at him. “You know, Detective Mitch Lawson, most normal, sane men would run a mile from women who suddenly find themselves the guardian of two children whose father has the Russian mob after them, has trailer trash for relatives and who you think are cracked, clueless and have their heads up their asses.”

“Yeah, lucky for you I think all that’s definitely cute.”

“Trailer trash relatives aren’t cute!” I snapped the God’s honest truth.

“No, those two weren’t cute. You bangin’ your head against the wall after they left and talkin’ to me about my mother wearin’ scarves was not only cute, it was f**kin’ adorable.”

“There it is, you aren’t sane,” I declared.

Mitch just grinned at me.

Moving on!

“All right,” I stated then warned, “They’ll be back.”

“Yeah, I was guessin’ that.”

“I don’t want the kids to see them.”

“Yeah, I was guessin’ that too.”

“So we need a plan,” I told him.

“You got any ideas?”

To that, I asked, “How illegal is murder, exactly?”

He burst out laughing again. Luckily this time I was joking. Kind of.

When he quit laughing, his arms gave me another squeeze and he said, “How about this? I give Bray, Brent, LaTanya and Derek the heads up that they call me if they see them. The kids and I find somethin’ to do today that takes us out of the house. And since The Trailer Trash Twins have no clue I live across the breezeway, the kids and me hang at my place and you come get them from there when you get home tonight. They come callin’ late again, I don’t hear them from my place and intervene, you call me and I’ll intervene.”

“If they make a ruckus, the kids can still hear them shouting.”

“Yes, but I’ll have a talk with Billy today and clue him in and I’ll call a unit to come get them if they make a disturbance. Billie, we’ll play it by ear.”

This plan held merit.

“The kids go to bed before I get home. I don’t go back to nine thirties to six thirties until tomorrow.”

“They can bring their pajamas and crash at my place. I’ll carry them back when you get home.”

This wasn’t a great option but it was the only one I had so I nodded and said, “Fine.”

“I’ll call Bob Pierson today and give him a head’s up,” Mitch stated and my brows drew together.

“A head’s up about what?” I asked.

“The Trailer Trash Twins,” Mitch answered.

Oh shit. I hadn’t even thought of that.

Bill knew where I worked. The very idea of Mom and Aunt Lulamae showing up at work and the antics they might dream up while doing so made me close my eyes.

My head flopped forward so it was resting on my hands on Mitch’s chest.

Mitch’s hand came up and started massaging my neck as he murmured, “I see you didn’t think about that.”

“Bill knows where I work.”

“Unh-hunh.”

“He’ll tell them if he hasn’t already.”

“Right.”

“Shit,” I whispered.

I needed to talk to Bill. I needed to get him to call off the Trailer Trash Twins. I needed to do this because I couldn’t handle the Trailer Trash Twins but mostly because I needed to stay employed. Plus I liked my neighbors and I wanted them to continue liking me.

“Mara, sweetheart, look at me,” Mitch called.

I sucked in breath and tipped my head back to look at Mitch.

“Your boss thinks the world of you. He’ll be cool with this and protect you,” Mitch told me.

“He’s mistaken about the zone I live in too and those two show he’ll figure it out,” I shared and Mitch shook his head.

Then he remarked, “Bet you think a lot of people are mistaken about that.”

He was right therefore I made no response.

Mitch kept speaking. “Which means maybe they aren’t the ones who’re mistaken.”

Oh no. We weren’t going there again.

“I need coffee,” I announced.

Mitch studied me. Then one side of his mouth went up in a grin and he muttered, “Right.” Then he didn’t move, except his hand which was still massaging my neck.

Therefore, I prompted, “Like…now.”