“No! The cat was just helping!”
The cat, bless his confused soul, was covered in powdered sugar and looked like a very sad ghost.
Then I saw Ray. Slouched on the couch. In his boxer shorts. Scratching his stomach.
Like a leftover mistake I kept forgetting to throw out. And suddenly, the mental image of him gambling away half a million pounds in my old casino burned through me like battery acid.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smother him with a pillow or stuff a broccoli down his throat.
Ray. The man who’d gone through my drawers looking for spare change. Who left his crusty socks on the dining table. Who had the audacity to lose half a million in the casino I used to own before Alec took it. And now he had the nerve to breathe loudly near my coffee. “I swear, I’m done with casinos,” he
