Chapter 12A goody bag filled with jars of homemade syrups and various fruit preserves in hand, Honey and Kalei walked me down the winding driveway, and waved me off.
It was 6:40 a.m. when I entered the condo, my tummy happily rounded from six delicious mega-size strawberry-coconut pancakes, heavy with mac-nut butter. I slipped off dusty-dirty Reeboks, placed my bag and keys on a seagrass stool beside the kitchen entrance, and froze upon entering the sun-kissed living room.
“What the fu—” I bit my lip. Hard. Damn, that hurt.
Button was on the sofa, on Cash Layton Jones’ lap. Both looked like sugar-sated kids that had successfully raided Mom’s cookie jar. He was smiling and she was enjoying his belly rubs.
“I don’t believe it. How the hell did you get in here?” I tramped forward, wanting
