LITMIR.BIZ

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the death of their parents, Stephen had indulged his two nieces’ every whim. When Ken and Betty Reyes had passed away earlier that year, Stephen, along with his younger brother Nate, tried to honor the will and testament that left them with guardianship of the two girls. Together, the brothers tried to keep the living arrangements as simple as possible. They both packed up their respective homes in Atlanta and moved into Ken’s house.

      The living arrangements weren’t ideal. Neither of the brothers wanted to move into the master bedroom, which left both of them taking two of the smaller bedrooms downstairs. Stephen didn’t put up a fuss. He wanted the girls to still live in the house they grew up in and attend the same school as their friends. The uncles let Kimber and Philly spend as much time with their elderly maternal grandparents as they wanted, from which stemmed part of the problem.

      Stephen had no problem packing up his business in North Atlanta to move into the girls’ home. The business he created allowed him to work from any location, which currently meant out of the bedroom he occupied. Reyes Realty provided a number of services. One was helping families find their dream homes, and the other was Stephen’s brainchild. As a location scout for producers in the entertainment world, whether movies, television or musical productions, Stephen traveled a lot. To make up for things he missed out on, he knew he overindulged the girls, especially Kimber, who had taken her parents’ death hard and become withdrawn in the first few weeks. Finally, after spring break, Kimber had started to open up.

      The night in question, Kimber had asked permission from Stephen and Nate to spend the night with a friend instead of going over to her grandmother’s. Now they had learned Kimber and her friend had sneaked out of the two-story home to attend a party across the Georgia-Florida border. “Another spin around the block?” His driver, Keenan, hidden behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses, craned his neck to see through the rearview mirror into the backseat.

      “I think I’m good now, Keen.” Stephen inhaled deeply and blew out a smooth breath. Seconds after leaving Grits and Glam Gowns, Stephen’s breath had been ragged and quick. Lessons from anger-management classes had taught him to breathe through his emotion. Something about Lexi rubbed him the wrong way, in a way he did not expect. Miss Pendergrass’s tantalizing perfume clung to him. The time spent in the car cooling off should have helped Stephen gain control of himself and his recent interaction with the boutique owner. Much to his dismay, he had a soft spot for women who smelled as delicious as her—a mixture of flowers and cake. Stephen shook his head, snapping himself out of his erotic daze, and reassured Keenan of his decision.

      Women like Lexi Pendergrass came a dime a dozen. He’d had her number the second he stormed into her office. Gold trophies, diamond tiaras, sashes, photographs of herself and what he assumed were her parents posed in front of a mansion-style home. She was a spoiled party girl with an expensive hobby to keep her occupied until—judging from her ringless finger—marriage.

      The dress confirmed his impression. The dyed blond hair paired with her maple-sugar skin, while sexy as hell, supported his theory, as well. Stephen loosened the knot of his tie and tried to focus on the matter at hand.

      As an uncle, he needed to look beyond the tempting Miss Pendergrass and remember what a bad influence a woman like her was on impressionable young girls. Kimber had nearly gotten herself attacked when she was wearing such a provocative dress. The police had no new information on her attackers, but someone needed to pay. He had decided to start with Lexi Pendergrass and her store. She needed to be put out of business.

      As one of the top realtors in the nation, Stephen recognized a sales pitch when he saw one—especially when it came with a 3-D model. The boarded-up business next door to the gown shop had clued him in even more. Lexi Pendergrass planned to expand her shop? Over his dead body.

      While he wasn’t a parent himself, he relished his role as uncle for two very impressionable nieces. If Lexi thought she would update the wardrobe of this sleepy town, she had another think coming. It would serve her right if he outbid her on the purchase of the bakery next door. Stephen had started off his career as a location scout for a Hollywood producer and kept up with his connections. A lot of the Southern producers in Atlanta were looking for a picturesque, one-streetlight town; Southwood, Georgia, could hold the title. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted anything better. Hell, he might just keep it, considering his bedroom-slash-office was becoming cramped.

      The locksmiths were pulling out of the driveway by the time Stephen’s driver dropped him off. He shook hands with the elder man and thanked the crew before waving them off with the invoice for the completed job in his hand. The two-story brick home with black shutters sat in a typically quiet neighborhood. The setting reminded Stephen of the street he grew up on in Florida. They were far away from the hustle and bustle of downtown but not too far for a morning job. One of these days Stephen planned on taking the girls down to the park, but with a pool, slide and jungle gym in the spacious, fenced-in backyard, he’d become lazy. Things were going to change around here.

      The unmistakable catchy tunes of a PBS show echoed down the hall. Five-year-old Philly had clearly returned from weekend visitation with her grandparents. The beige carpeted steps were littered with pink doll clothes and shoes. Sticky pink handprints covered white walls right under the family portraits leading the way to the second floor. Thank God for wipe-away paint.

      “I’m home,” Stephen called out, shutting the door.

      “Uncle Stephen!” Philly, in her favorite pink tutu and purple unicorn top, came tearing into the foyer and threw herself into Stephen’s arms. “I had cotton candy.”

      “I can tell.” Stephen shifted Philly onto his hip and walked into the family room. The child ate like a horse but weighed next to nothing. Her biggest downfall was her sweet tooth, something her grandparents overindulged. “Did you have fun?”

      Philly nodded, the two ponytails high on her head, wrapped with pink ribbons, bobbing back and forth. “We went on a picnic this morning.”

      Sprawled out on the couch, Kimber Reyes glanced up and rolled her hazel eyes toward the spinning ceiling fan. She sighed heavily and stomped one foot on the hardwood floor, then the other. Was she supposed to be mad at him? And when did she get her phone back? Stephen was sure he’d taken the bedazzled gizmo from her. Her colorful nails swiped the pink screen of the phone in her hand and she popped a piece of bubble gum between her teeth.

      “Philly, will you find the coloring book we were using last week, the one with the princesses?” Stephen leaned over and placed Philly on the ground. Knowing he’d put the book up in the desk in his room, he banked on a few extra moments of quiet with Kimber. Stephen turned off the TV and sat down on the empty cushion beside her.

      An audible sigh emerged from her, clearly warning him to tread carefully. “Kimber, put the phone down.”

      In dramatic fashion, Kimber tossed it beside her and folded her arms across her chest. “Do we have to do this?”

      “What?” Stephen chuckled. “Talk? I can’t help being concerned about you, Kimber. What were you thinking?”

      “I was thinking I would hang out with my friends. Some of them happen to be boys.”

      “Boys?” Stephen spat.

      As he choked on her news, Kimber pleaded with him, batting her lashes. “C’mon, Uncle Stephen, don’t act like you didn’t date when you were my age. Abuela told me all about you, Daddy and Uncle Nate. She didn’t imprison you in your home.”

      “I dated,” he said with a nod, “but growing up in Villa San Juan back then was a whole lot different than growing up here where you’re sneaking out at all hours of the night, dressed as you were, to meet up with...boys.” The term barely came out of his mouth. “Besides the new bars on your window, I’ve also eliminated some of the other temptations.”

      Kimber turned her face toward his. “What did you do?”

      “I went to the dress shop. Can you believe the owner claims to not recall selling this to you?”

      Kimber banged the back of her head against a pillow. “Tell

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