Chapter Nineteen
Mark wanted this to be perfect. He waited for Billy Jo, who was in the master bedroom of the house Gail had sent him a link to, and stared at the text from her dad, a man who had shown up and left as quickly as he’d arrived.
Well, does she like it?
Later. We’ll talk later, he texted back, then pocketed his phone.
He took in the white cabinets, the big windows, an open kitchen with everything he knew she wanted. The house had three bedrooms, a den, a yard, and no neighbors they could see.
Billy Jo walked out of the bedroom, her arms crossed, wearing a familiar frown—but damn, he wanted some happiness out of this shitstorm he could feel swirling around him.
“You haven’t said anything,” he told her. “You know that’s the perfect padded window seat for Harley. He can slee
