The Sacrifice (L.O.R.D.S. #3)

Chapter One

Mia

A moan escapes me as I bite into the perfectly square white chocolate chip raspberry scone. At the table next to us, a woman with blue hair turns and smiles.

Great. I cringe. Now I look like an idiot who's never eaten a pastry. Or worse, a sex-deprived, lonely woman with no prospects in sight.

Ding. Ding. Ding. That's me.

Not the "never eaten a pastry" part. There are two scones in front of me to refute that claim. But sexual prospects aren't exactly coming in hot and heavy. Or by the dozens.

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to choke on the massive chunk of scone I just stuffed into my mouth. Chloe's Bakery is adorable. The baked goods are illuminated inside glass cases, everything slathered in frosting. I lean forward, and the seams of my jeans protest against the movement. Damn it. I've only taken one bite.

"Have you settled in?" Jade Warren takes a dainty bite of her cupcake and dabs at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

"I'm starting to. Andrew's place is a mess." I take a sip of water to wash the dryness out of my mouth. "If you can believe it, he had tall cans stacked on top of small cans. Everything was about to topple over onto the floor."

"Oh, the horrors." She giggles, her eyes dancing with laughter.

"You, too?"

"What?"

"Andrew made fun of me, but I expected you to understand." I glare at her. "You're supposed to be my best friend."

Even though I've spent the last four years as a nanny on the East Coast and my visit to Kansas City is supposed to be brief, Jade and I have kept in contact. We've been friends since college. She was the first person I called when I got back into town.

We shouldn't have meshed. She was a senior during my freshman year, but we met at a coffee shop and bonded over our love for theater, classical music, and paranormal smut. Yes, we had eclectic tastes.

"I'm sorry." She lays her hand on the table. "I shouldn't have laughed at you, but you're organizing your brother's pantry." She shrugs, trying to keep a straight face. "It's funny. After I had the kids, I gave up on sorting things by size."

The bell above the door rings as someone steps inside the bakery, and a blast of warm air floods the room. Then, it's pushed back by the air conditioning as the door shuts. Even though it's the first week of September, the temperatures still hover in the upper eighties during the day.

"You must keep your priorities in check." Chaos gives me the heebie-jeebies. In my apartment at the Wrights' house at my last nanny position, I had everything arranged by color, size, season, or whatever other category I could come up with. It made things easier.

"I have my priorities in check. My kids and my husband come before where the corn and green beans are on the shelf."

"You're right." What's wrong with me? Of course, she's going to put her family first.

However, her words sting more than I want to admit. Being a nanny requires shutting off a part of yourself so you don't get attached.

Nanny Rule #1–Don't let your emotions get involved. I spent too much time focusing on random things to keep from becoming overly entangled.

After I take a sip of my steaming coffee, I swipe at a crumble of scone, causing the piece to plummet to the floor. Heat flares along my skin. Why did I do that? If I crawl under the table to grab it, she will laugh her ass off.

I'm ridiculous. I'm obsessed with perfection, and white chocolate chip raspberry scones. At least I managed not to sound like a porn star when drinking my coffee. That's my first win for the day.

Jade's eyebrow arches. "Are you doing okay?"

"Not really." Fuck. Perspiration beads on my forehead. Nanny Rule #2–Never let them see you sweat. I grab the pastry off the white plate. "Forget I said that."

"Mia, it's fine." Her eyes are concerned as she studies me. "It's okay if you're struggling. Your fiancé broke up with you, you've moved back home, you're living with your brother, and you're without a job. Understandably, things are a little shaky right now."

I shove a giant wedge of scone into my mouth, praying the drizzle of icing on top is enough moisture to keep me from needing the Heimlich maneuver. I didn't need the complete list of things going wrong in my life laid out at one time. Okay, the no-job thing is temporary. Other openings come up all the time, but I don't know where I want to live.

Once I swallow, I take another sip of coffee, letting the sweet, hot liquid burn my throat.

Fine. My life sucks. "You forgot the part where I wasted three years of my life with Warren only to have him run off with a waitress from Hooters to live on the beach in the Caribbean. Who does that? He was a stockbroker, for God's sake. He paid his taxes on time. He went to work an hour early and stayed an hour late. He was the most driven man I've ever met."

So what if there was no romance or butterflies in my stomach when we kissed. Those aren't real anyway. He was stable. And open to in vitro. Or even adoption if nothing else worked. Now, he's giving surfing lessons on the beach, and my womb is constricting on itself.

She rests her hand on top of mine. "Sometimes the responsibility gets to a person, and they snap."