It was 2 a.m. when Aria eventually came home.

Fucking 2 a.m., and she only made it home because Jim, one of the patrol officers, brought her in—not because she’d gotten in trouble, but because I’d gone insane and reported her missing.

Jesus, God in heaven, I knew—knew I’d totally overreacted, just like I knew I’d totally overreacted with my new neighbor, Miss Mouth.

With her, I would have probably backed down a little, but she had an attitude that rubbed me the wrong way, especially since I was pissed that her arrival meant I couldn’t go after Aria.

That would have been my next move if Miss Mouth hadn’t come bumbling down the road in her piece-of-shit car. Then what pissed me off even more was the arrival of Noah Whyte. The guy was one of my favorite former NFL players.

What I didn’t like was the high-and-mighty attitude he’d taken with me, although I most likely would have done the same thing too if I was filthy rich and powerful like him. Aside from the wealth and the power, he was just taking care of his girl. I got that, understood it, but I was still mad as hell, and that incident had fueled my rage.

I put both occurrences down to me losing my mind. I’d officially lost it.

Calling the cops to search for Aria was my last resort, the final thing I’d thought I could do. I’d sat out on that porch waiting, worrying myself to death the whole time. I only didn’t go looking for her myself because I wanted to be home in case she got back.

I must have visualized every terrible thing under the sun that could have happened to her, everything from being kidnapped to raped and murdered. By ten o’clock, I was sure something truly awful had happened, and that was when I called the station.

I wanted to give her a piece of my mind for making me worry like that. The crazy thing was, when Jim brought her back to me, I was so relieved, so relieved and happy to see she was alive that the momentary happiness abated my anger.

Then I saw the look of fury on her face.

She just looked at me, livid, but also like she hated me.

Was that truly how I’d been when I was that age? I had gotten up to some really bad stuff, things my parents would never know about, things I would never tell anyone.

Aria went straight to her room. I couldn’t even pursue her to argue. The atmosphere was so tense and thick it would have needed to be cut with a chainsaw. I figured she thought she could get away with being out all night because I’d worked super late on Fridays for the last few weeks, most times well into the morning. It was the case I was currently assigned to and then all the shit that kept happening in between.

Later in the night was when it had dawned on me that I needed help with her. She’d had a babysitter until she argued she was too old to have one, and she’d even become one herself for the Pearsons.

I agreed that she was too old. She’d be seventeen soon and would hate me even more if I suggested that, but I didn’t know what choice I had other than to sort things out at work. That would be difficult because I wasn’t some random cop. I was a detective with a lot on my plate, especially with Captain Hawkins’ attitude that we all had to do whatever work came our way.

I felt like I was in limbo, because Aria wasn’t a baby. I shouldn’t have had to be thinking about that shit. At the same time, I didn’t want her to lose her way and…end up like me—or rather, in her case, end up like Olivia: seventeen and pregnant by an idiot jock who thought he owned the world.

At least I’d done what was necessary to take care of my family, and Olivia had known when I married her, it wasn’t because she was pregnant. I’d even made a point of it by asking her to marry me after Aria was born.

I did that so she would know I wanted them both in my life. I did that so she would know that even though we’d made mistakes, Aria was no mistake. I didn’t think I was the best guy ever for doing that, but I knew a majority of eighteen-year-old guys would not have done that then, and they wouldn’t do it now.

Definitely not now, when that child was looking at me like she wanted to kill me.

I’d just walked into the living room. She had on Saturday morning kids TV while she munched on a toaster pastry.

There was too much angst in me to spread the tenseness out any longer. We had to talk.

I’d barely slept and couldn’t live through another day without airing out all the shit that was on my mind.

Without saying anything, I grabbed the remote and switched off the TV. Then I pulled up one of the wooden chairs from the dinner table and sat right in front of her.

She glowered at me, the weath of hate intensifying with each nanosecond.

“We’re going to talk now,” I declared, straightening up.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” She shook her head and frowned. Her green eyes darkened and she narrowed her little eyes at me. “Dad, you sent the police to get me.”

I knew she’d come at me with that first, just like the previous week when I’d gone to her school to pick her up in my police car. I’d done it as a warning.

“Why were you out so late? Who was that boy you were with, and where did he take you?” I tried my best to keep my voice under control, but the image of her kissing that guy popped up in my mind and I feared what else she might have done.

“Are you spying on me?” Now her eyes snapped wide and her nostrils flared.

“No, I came home early and I saw you.” That was a roundabout lie because technically I had been laying in wait to see what she was up to. Then Miss Mouth had come along in her piece-of-crap car.

“Dad, this is ridiculous. You treat me like a child—like a child who has no sense.”

“You got on a motorcycle with a boy who thought it was okay to ride around without a helmet.”

“He gave me his helmet,” she pointed out, as if it was supposed to mean something wonderful.

“You both should have had helmets. Also, when did you get a tattoo? And your belly button is pierced?”

Oh she didn’t like that. Her face flushed red and her eyes blazed. “Are you kidding me? The tattoo is fake, Dad, and I can get a piercing if I want to.”

While I was glad to hear the ink was fake and I’d been far away when I saw it, I knew what I’d seen. Only someone with artistic talent could have drawn the little hummingbird on her hip. Having had lots of tattoos myself, I knew that, and the fact that she’d had it done meant she wanted it permanently.

“Aria, who did the fake tattoo for you?”

“Brad,” she snapped.

I balled my fists, and her gaze flew down to my hands.

“Who’s Brad?” I growled.

“My boyfriend.” She knew this was making me crazy, and it was like she loved it.

The doorbell rang before I could give an answer to that. Of course Brad had to be motorcycle guy. At least now I had a name.

“Are you going to get that?” She motioned to the door with her head.

I was too worked up to talk to anybody. My daughter just told me she had a boyfriend—what the hell was I supposed to do with that information besides go on a hunt to skin this Brad person alive?

I stood up and moved over to the door feeling like I’d aged a hundred years since waking up. I didn’t know who the hell it was, but I needed to get rid of them quickly. Aria needed a serious talking to, and here was yet another distraction.

I opened the door to find Mindy Stevens standing before me holding a cake box in her hands—another cake.

This was fast becoming a weekly thing since I’d foolishly decided to go out with her for dinner. Big mistake. I hadn’t slept with her, and I had no desire to either. That first date was the only one she’d get out of me.

I felt she knew that, too, but this was her trying, and shit…

My eyes dropped straight to her breasts, which looked three times the size they’d been the previous week.

“Hi.” She beamed, tossing her brown hair over her shoulder.

She must have taken my looking at her breasts as a confidence booster. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate a great pair of tits; it was more that she looked ridiculous, and I seriously hoped she was wearing a Wonderbra or something because she was shaped like a bad drawing, like a distorted Jessica Rabbit, except Mindy had a tiny ballerina frame and a mousy look that actually reminded me of a mouse—and not in a cute way either. It was more of a rat-like appearance.

“Mindy.” I forced a smile and tried to calm my racing thoughts.

“I brought you guys some more cake, pumpkin again—you liked that last time,” she babbled, pushing out her chest to enhance the view of her breasts.

Cake, and it was pumpkin, too. I didn’t even like my mother’s pumpkin pies, and everything Mom made tasted like it came from heaven.

I’d fed the last cake Mindy brought to the Johnsons’ dog. It had tasted like shit. I didn’t think the dog deserved shit, but I hadn’t wanted the cake to go to waste.

Other than being used as jack-o’-lanterns for Halloween, pumpkins were no good to me.

“Sure.” I bit the inside of my lip. “Thank you.”

The old me would have been an ass and told her the cake tasted terrible, but now I was more compassionate toward people’s feelings, especially when she smiled at me like she’d just scored points. Before I could say another word, she sauntered in and gave Aria the biggest smile.

I watched her in dismay, not knowing how in the hell I was going to get rid of her, how I was going to put a stop to these visits.

She worked at the deli in town, not too far from the station, and she also lived two blocks away from us.

She liked Aria, and she was a woman who didn’t mind being with a single dad who had a teenaged daughter—all plusses, except I just wasn’t attracted to her at all.

Aria looked at her and her mouth dropped open when her eyes landed on the freaky tits.

My little girl was an angel, well-mannered in every way, a girl who would never disrespect anyone, but what I witnessed next shocked me to death.

As Mindy was about to put the cake on the table, Aria stood up and said, “No.” Then she wagged her pointer finger and made her way over to Mindy. Placing her hands on her hips, she stopped in front of the woman, straightened her back, and looked her up and down. “What did you do to yourself?” Aria asked, glowering at Mindy’s breasts.

Mindy’s face turned several shades of red and landed on crimson. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to shrug off her embarrassment.

“The scary fake tits. Please don’t tell me you seriously got implants to impress my dad.”

My eyes turned to saucers and my ears burned. “Aria,” I snapped.

“Dad, please—not even you can talk this one down.” Aria held up her hand and stared at me. “You could have saved her the trouble of damaging her body by telling her you weren’t interested. She was fine the way she was before—ugly yes, but better than how she looks now.”

Oh my God.

“Excuse me?” Mindy looked at Aria, completely horrified.

I was so mortified I didn’t know what to say.

Aria returned her gaze to Mindy. “Look, Mindy, you seem like you could be an intelligent woman. You must have known there would be no more dates after the first date, because it would have happened already, yet you come here every weekend with cake.” Aria shook her head, giving her a pitiful look. “He’s just not into you, and so help me I will not watch him feed the poor Johnsons’ dog another cake. Dad loathes pumpkins and fruit with seeds that can get stuck in your teeth. He hates cake, full stop, so please, just go and don’t come back.”

Mortified wasn’t the right word. What I was feeling was something else entirely.

Mindy didn’t even look at me as she turned on her heel and marched out of the house, cake in hand.

I closed the door and squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what I was going to say to Aria. She’d never behaved like that before. It was clearly an attempt to get me back for last night, but what she’d done was mean and embarrassing.

When I opened my eyes and turned to face her, I saw she was still standing in the same position: hands on hips, staring at me like she was waiting for war.

“Jesus Christ, Aria, why in the fuc—” I had to hold my tongue. I didn’t swear at her or around her, and I’d almost forgotten that.

She smiled when she saw my near failure to be a good example.

“What’s that, Father? Didn’t hear you,” she cooed in a sing song voice, placing her hand to her ear.

“Aria, why did you talk to Mindy like that?”

“What, you mean tell her the truth? It was tough love, Dad, and I hope like hell she didn’t get a boob job, although I’m pretty certain she did. It’s bad enough she has a face like a rat, but she can’t help that.”

“You can’t say things like that,” I barked.

“You’re a hypocrite,” she threw back, her hands dropping to her sides.

“What makes me a hypocrite?” I was real interested to hear this.

“You freak out because I have a boyfriend yet you had me when you were eighteen. You freak out because you thought I had a tattoo, but you’re covered in tats, and now, we both know you don’t like Mindy and you were probably trying to think of a way to get rid of her but instead of thanking me for being honest with her, you’re mad at me.”

All I could do was stare. All I could do was look at her in amazement.

She was right, and I hated that she was right. I really did.

All of what she’d said was correct.

“You were mean. You didn’t need to be mean.”

“Fine, I accept that.”

“You did that to get back at me for last night.”

“Maybe I did.” She squared off.

“You aren’t out of the woods for that, young lady.”

“Neither are you, old man.”

What the fuck?

The problem here was my girl was me. I could have been talking to myself because everything she said was exactly what I would have said.

I didn’t like that either. It was like she knew what I was going to say before I said it.

“Aria, this is not a joke.”

“I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off and her gaze shifted to the window. “Oh my God, wowwwwww.”

I turned too, to see what she was staring at.

A massive Neiman Marcus delivery truck was outside, the kind I thought would normally deliver to the store itself. The one truck was enough cause for excitement since I’d never seen anything of the sort in these parts, but when another truck pulled up, Aria gasped. Neiman Marcus was in Charlotte, a good three or so hours away.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, a truck from Nordstrom parked behind the second Neiman’s truck.

The drivers began unloading the delivery, and Miss Mouth opened the door to the house. She floated down the steps with the biggest smile on her face. That blonde hair looked like a mass of white gold on her head.

It hadn’t escaped me that she was very beautiful. It had been fucking distracting the previous day, and it was distracting now.

“I didn’t know we had a neighbor.”

I hadn’t either until the day before. That house had been empty for over two years then a month before I’d seen movement, people going in and out to clean and fix up the place.

Then the previous afternoon, she’d arrived: Miss Mouth, my new neighbor who had a mouth on her, who gave as much as she got.

Her mouth with its full, round lips made me think of all kinds of shit I hadn’t thought of in a while.

There she was now across the way, ushering the men inside. They were only too happy to do whatever she wanted. Any man would be just from the sight of her in that romper that showed off her tanned legs and voluptuous breasts, which were real, definitely not like Mindy. Also unlike Mindy, Miss Mouth’s perfect body had curves in all the right places.

I had definitely overreacted the day before. I’d been mad as hell, but I should have dealt with the situation better. Couldn’t take it back now, though. A first impression was a first impression. Miss Mouth most likely thought I was a jerk, even though I’d seen her watching me from her window the previous night.

“That is what I call classy,” Aria gushed, continuing to admire her.

Brooke. That was her name.

“Classy,” I said, more to myself than to Aria.

Brooke was most likely one of those Barbie Doll types with daddy’s credit card. Look at her. Everything about her was perfect from head to toe.

“Definitely classy.” Aria beamed. “Look at all that stuff—Chanel, Gucci, Louis Vuitton. Wow, I wish I had even one thing from any of those brands.”

I looked at Aria and got absorbed in her fascination.

It would be just my luck for my daughter to like the one woman I’d totally

pissed off.