“Three days,” he repeats. I relax a little until he finishes with, “I expect you and Sam at my house with the watch in hand.”

“What?” I practically hiss. “Why me? I don’t need to be there. I’m not—”

“Yes, you do. I don’t trust Sam to show up without you.”

“She’ll show.” If I have to threaten death and dismemberment. “I want no part of this reunion.” No way am I coming face to face with Macon. I can’t do it.

“Then you shouldn’t have stuck your nose into it.”

Ass. Hole.

Macon’s tone is hard and cold. “Those are the terms. Take it or leave it.”

I have to believe he’s serious; the Macon I knew never said what he didn’t mean. I would have admired that if he hadn’t been such a prick to me every time we got in each other’s orbit. The thought of facing him, meeting that cool, smug gaze once more, makes my insides flip sickly.

Just once, I’d like to bring that man to his knees, see him desperate and panting for me the way so many women are for him. There is little chance of that looking like I do at the moment, covered in flour, sticky with sweat, and my hair in desperate need of a cut.

“Delilah? We have a deal?”

I hate the way he says my name, all clipped and imperious, as if he’s my superior. I grip my phone hard enough to hurt my hand. I picture throwing the thing at his big head. Lord, grant me the strength not to do just that. “I’ll see you in three days.”

He sounds entirely too pleased. “I’ll text you my address. I’m looking forward to it, Tot.”

I’m looking forward to strangling my sister.

First, I’ll have to find her.

CHAPTER TWO

Macon

My hand shakes when I set down the phone. I’ve been in constant pain for the past two weeks, so I could blame it on that, but it would be a lie. Delilah Ann Baker is the source of my current weakness.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” North says from the doorway of my office.

“I think I just conjured one.” I turn to face the window and the sea beyond, but I don’t see the view. I see Delilah. Big eyes the color of gingersnaps, surrounded by thick dark lashes, a round face with a blunt nose, and plush pink lips. That mouth was always moving, always spewing out verbal acid aimed in my direction.

No one on earth has ever annoyed me as much as Delilah Baker.

No one put me on the defensive faster than Delilah Baker.

Christ, she sounded exactly the same. No, that isn’t right; she gave me the same amount of shit as always, but her voice has changed. It is a little different now, holding an undertone of a soft, sweet rasp as if she just finished a bout of hot, sweaty . . .