Despite her laughter, Thea was fuming. She imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios that ended in Anthony Bertram’s doom: falling off a cliff, getting run over by a tractor. Being sucked into quicksand. Was there quicksand in Washington State? If not, she’d go find some and bring it back and toss him into it.
At the moment, Anthony was making very important phone calls. His voice had returned to its usual haughty tone, and the only satisfaction she received was hearing his frustration. When he caught her looking at him, he sent her a sardonic glance and headed upstairs.
She speared a bite of pancake, now cold. She hoped he tripped on the stairs.
He was going to get rid of her, was he? Not f*****g likely. She would tie herself to the fridge before she let him throw her out. She had just
