Four
How dare he? I am not needy.
Charlotte slammed her sledgehammer into the wall and watched in satisfaction as chunks of plaster and pieces of lath rained down. It had taken her a couple of hours to work her way through the hurt, but on the other side of coffee and huevos rancheros, she’d found her way to the mad. Mad was a lot more comfortable. The Vasquez clan had quick, passionate tempers that burned hot, then flamed out. Well, except for her abuela, who was famed for her ability to hold a grudge. Charlotte was pretty sure she just might rival Tita Carlotta on that front after this morning’s debacle. So she’d taken one of the estate 4x4s and come out to the next cottage slated for renovation to work off this need for violence. And if she was picturing Malcolm Niall’s head on the wa
