a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures Read Free Page A

I need to go over with you before we leave.”
    They were leaving. The infamous light at the end of the tunnel clicked on and I blew out a premature sigh. It would be over soon, and there really was no force in the Universe like Jayne Hunt, so there was no point arguing with her. Mitch had been able to slide through her analyses and organizational rampages unscathed, but not me. I’d had a rocky beginning with my sister-in-law before we’d settled into a friendship, and her love for Mitch was so strong, so devoted, that she’d never completely accepted me as his wife. As friends we did well most of the time, although friendship with Jayne was a lot of work. Still, this impromptu visit had me baffled. I scooped up the bottle of water I’d dropped earlier, settled into a corner of the sofa, and tucked my legs under me. “I’m not getting it.”
    “Precisely why we’re here.” She leaned over and patted my knee. It started wobbling again.
    I uncapped the water, drank, and concentrated on the cool liquid bathing my throat. Anything would be better than Jayne’s voice.
    “Think about the view from Mitchell’s back deck, Everly—the vast open space, the peace that pours from the hills and grassland. My brother designed that scene just like he framed all of the photographs he created. He rarely took a snapshot. It was always living art. That man, the artist, would be appalled to see you slumped here with your heart oozing grief. The only thing left alive in you is that new smattering of freckles on your nose, and that is totally unacceptable, Everly Gray Hunt.”
    The world had moved into a time warp that battered me with painful memories. Jayne had been devastated at Mitch’s funeral. A complete, incoherent basket case. We’d traveled with his body from Hawaii to North Carolina and she—we—sat with the casket for the entire trip. We’d both been submerged in pain so acute it had numbed us to everything except the physical labor of moving Jayne and Parker into Mitch’s house. The one Mitch and I had lived in as husband and wife.
    Unbeknownst to me, he’d given the house and land to his sister and her husband when I’d left him to move to Hawaii. Jayne was pregnant, and Parker wanted to raise their family in the country. And Mitch had hoped to save our marriage by moving across the Pacific to be with me. An act of faith, or so he’d said. I rubbed at the pain in my chest. Where was she going with this? Cracking open old wounds that were still deep enough to bleed was bad form, even for Jayne.
    She chugged her water. “All right. Hydrated, so can we make some coffee? Something decadent with cream and flavorings?”
    A forensic accountant, Jayne was usually focused enough to cut through glass with her tone and her words. She definitely wasn’t a woman who diluted the sharp flavor of her coffee with cream or sugar. Certainly not with any added flavorings. Prickles danced on my nape. “Coffee would be fine. I’m sure you’re probably in the throes of jet lag.” It was the best explanation I could come up with for this new side of Mitch’s sister.
    Parker stood. “I’ll make it. They forgot to stock Jayne’s favorite coffee on the plane, and since Mitchell turned three months old she’s been drinking her allotted sixteen ounces every day.”
    Jayne had a favorite coffee? I’m the one who stocked cinnamon in large quantities for my coffee, she’d always taken hers black. This whole situation was totally skewed, but apparently pregnancy did that to a woman. I shuddered.
    Parker’s attitude told me the lack of Jayne’s favorite caffeinated drink hadn’t been a pleasant discovery, but she grinned at him. “It’ll be fixed before we board for the flight home. Eight ounces now. Eight then. It’s my God-given right as a semi-new mom.”
    “Damn right it will,” Parker said, selecting a flavored Keurig cup from the basket on my kitchen counter.
    Jayne wiggled into the corner of the sofa opposite me, her