Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

Cursing him, she dug a treat from her pocket and waved Princess over. The little dog had been tentative at first but now trotted over to take the treat—only to dart out of range when Dorothea reached out to pet her behind the ears. Well, it was still progress.

“Daniel,” Harlow said, clearly trying not to laugh. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“I know.”

Oh, to have such confidence.

He handed the paper to Dorothea. “Here’s that background check you demanded.”

The background—on himself! She looked it over and frowned. “All it says is that you moved back to Strawberry Valley this year and reconnected with the hottest girl in school.” The word hottest was highlighted, underlined and circled.

“Exactly. Because that’s really all that matters.”

“Wait,” Harlow said with a shake of her head. “You had him do a background check on himself?”

“Yes. Not that it did any good.” Dorothea scowled at Daniel before smiling at Harlow. “Consider Daniel your beck-and-call boy. He’ll fetch anything you need.” Smug now, she stepped around him and headed for her sister’s room.

On Holly’s eighteenth birthday, Carol had helped her move out of their suite and into her own private living quarters, even though she was still in high school. An Enter at Your Own Peril sign hung on the door.

Dorothea knocked and pressed her finger into the peephole, knowing curiosity would get the better of the girl.

Sure enough, the door swung open. Holly spotted her and glowered. “What?”

“So kind.” Today her sister wore an oversize tee that read “Play with Bed Bugs at the Strawberry Inn.” Her skintight leggings were stuffed into cowgirl boots, and white lace socks peeked over the top. “Just wanted to start my day right. With your sunny smile.”

Good old-fashioned surprise flickered inside those familiar green eyes.

“I love you, Halls. Have a nice day.” She didn’t try to push for a lengthy or in-depth conversation. Her goal was simple: let her sister know she was here, she cared, she would always care and she would always be here, no matter what. She was rebuilding trust, after all.

And she was using the very method Daniel was using on her, she realized. Close proximity, short and sweet interactions. No wonder he’d agreed to work at the inn.

Well. He really was putting everything he had into winning her over. Maybe she should—

No. Nope. Secret relationships were bad. Bad!

Deciding to take a few hours off, she phoned Ryanne, who usually worked until three in the morning...which was why she had a strict no-calls-before-noon policy. A policy Dorothea decided to ignore.

“Better be a matter of life-and-death,” the girl grumbled.

“It is. I have two dates this weekend and nothing to wear. We’re going shopping.”

“No way, chica. I’m trying to sleep.” Ryanne shouted the words.

In the background, Dorothea thought she heard a man muttering.

“Oh, good. You have company, so you’re up. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Click.

Dorothea changed into a T-shirt and jeans, grabbed her purse and stalked to the lobby. She passed Daniel—won’t look, won’t freaking look—and stepped outside. The too-bright sunlight made her eyes tear.

Her phone rang. A quick glance at the screen made her groan. Jazz. Ugh. This was his weekly call. “What do you want?” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“You, Dorothea.” His smooth baritone drifted over the line. “I want you.”

Sometimes she hung up on him without speaking. Sometimes she listened to his stream of apologies and praise. Today, she had just enough gumption to say, “You can’t have me.”

“Please. If you’d just listen to me—”

“You need to stop calling me, Jazz. We’re over. We’ll always be over, and it’s your loss.”

“I’m no longer with Charity. We split.”

“Did you cheat on her? Or did she cheat on you?”

Silence.

Well, well. “I would have been faithful forever, you know. But nooo. You’re a cheater, and you hooked up with a cheater.” So how had Dorothea been the one to end up feeling like yesterday’s garbage? “You guys were never going to last.”

He cleared his throat. “I miss you.”

“I don’t care.”

“I did you wrong, and I’m sorry. If you give me another chance, I’ll be devoted to you. I’ll never make the same mistake again. I just... I want you back. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I miss you,” he repeated.

“Again, I don’t care. You aren’t a prize, Jazz, and I deserve a prize.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I made a mistake.”

His voice broke, as if he were crying. Maybe he was. Her heart remained set against him.

She’d forgiven him long ago, despite the anger and bitterness she still sometimes battled, but forgiveness didn’t mean she would give him a place in her new life, allowing him to crap all over her a second time.

“Jazz, you know what I lost after I discovered your affair.” She remembered every detail of that tragic day. She’d been at work—down to only one job thanks to Jazz’s plush new position at the network. Though he hadn’t wanted her to stop working and return to school yet because they’d needed to save for the baby.

She’d begun to cramp, and her boss had let her leave early.

Thrilled, she’d texted Jazz, and he’d told her to go home, that he hadn’t left for work yet, so he would call in sick and give her a massage.

She’d found out later Charity had sent the reply. That the two had already been at the apartment, intending to head to the station together.

The news anchor had wanted Dorothea’s marriage to end and had finally had her chance.

If only Charity had called her instead. I’m boning your husband. How about you hit the bricks?

Dorothea would have filed for divorce in a heartbeat. Rose might have lived.

That cramping...

One of the nurses had told her: Your daughter died for a reason.

Dorothea had almost come unglued.

Jazz had said: God needed another angel for his choir. You and me, we can have another baby.

Her mom had said: Everything happens for a reason. This was meant to be.

“Everything happens for a reason” and “meant to be” were nothing but excuses. A way to blame fate rather than the fallacy of human nature. But Dorothea understood the reason her mother believed both. When Joe Mathis had taken off, Carol had needed a scapegoat.

And Jazz’s comment? Well, it made him dumber than homemade sin. God had nothing to do with her daughter’s death. Evil did. And Dorothea wanted her sweet Rose.

“Please, Dorothea,” he said. “I know you lost the baby, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I lost her, too. But we can try again.”

“I do want to try again. One day. With someone else,” she said, making the decision then and there. No risk, no reward. Better to regret the things you try than the things you never do.

Yes, the odds were one in a million, but people had won the lottery with less.

“You need to stop calling me, okay? We’re over, and we’ll always be over.” She hung up.