Jinxed by Beth Ciotta

would have to make due with Afia’s time, and time was ticking away. The last thing she wanted was to be late to the office two days in a row.
    “Are you the hat lady?” A little red-haired girl, maybe three or four years old, tugged at Afia’s blouse. “Mrs. Kelly says the lady who gived us the hats was pretty. You’re pretty.”
    “Why, thank you.” Afia stooped down to put herself eye to eye with the cute little munchkin. “And yes, I’m the lady who
gave
you the hats. What’s your name?”
    “Mya.”
    Afia smiled. ”Did you like the hats, Mya?”
    The little girl’s mouth puckered into a frown. “Billy taked mine.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Billy took your hat?”
    The girl nodded. “He’s bad.”
    “Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll give it back.”
    Just then a slight, skinny-legged boy galloped into the room wearing one of Afia’s straw hats. The buttercup yellow number, with an up-turned brim and a big, red rose pinned due center. He looked ridiculously cute.
    Mya disagreed. She wagged her pudgy finger chanting, “Sissy, sissy, sissy! Billy is a sissy!”
    Afia gasped. “That’s not nice, Mya.”
    She pointed to the man arguing with Mrs. Kelly. “Daddy said so!” she announced.
    Afia was disgusted and absolutely speechless.
    The little girl taunted the boy in a singsong voice. “Billy is a sissy! Na-na-na-na-na-na!”
    Red-faced, Billy rushed forward and clipped Afia in the eye while tackling Mya. All hell broke loose and finally, Afia had Mrs. Kelly’s attention.

     
    He wouldn’t yell. He wouldn’t lecture. He’d simply wait and see what kind of excuse Afia offered for being twenty minutes late. No wonder she couldn’t hold down a job. She was clumsy, moody, and habitually late. Okay, maybe not moody so much as unpredictable. Her ability to transform from kitten to wildcat in the blink of an eye had kept him tossing and turning most of the night. Or perhaps it was the vivid dream showcasing Afia in stiletto heels and biker leather. If she was as adventurous in real life as she was in Jake’s fantasy, no wonder her first husband had suffered a heart attack in the middle of sex.
    Just one of the interesting tid-bits Joni had confirmed last night via cell phone as Jake had tailed Anthony Rivelli from the Carnevale Casino to his Cherry Hill home. Unfortunately, their conversation had been cut short when Carson had returned home early from a gig, surprising Joni with flowers and Chinese food. Joni had promised to phone Jake with the rest of her report as soon as she did some fact-checking. One thing about Joni, she never did anything half-assed. Which probably meant, if she dug deep enough, she’d discover the fact that Afia was currently broke. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.
    Anxious and without a laptop, he’d ended up calling a buddy on the force who’d gotten back to him in spurts during the six non-eventful hours he’d sat surveillance outside Rivelli’s home. He’d quickly learned that Rudy Gallow, though he looked big, bad, and rich, had a clean record, a chauffeur’s license, and a bank account comparable to Jake’s, which wasn’t saying much. He rented a townhouse in a new development in the Inlet, not the nicest of areas, though the city was working hard to build up that section of town. Gallow wasn’t Afia’s social equal. He was her ex-driver and current friend, possible lover. Harmon hadn’t seemed thrilled that she was shacking up with her “friend,” but he hadn’t seemed overly concerned. Jake didn’t know what to make out of any of it, and he hated that he couldn’t let it go. Of course, he could call Harmon and ask him straight out.
What’s up with Afia and biker boy
? But Harmon might wonder why Jake cared.
    Good question.
    Just because he was attracted to Afia didn’t mean he had to act on it. Just because she seemed as though she needed to be saved, didn’t make it so. She’d already proven herself quite the actress. What if the