Untwisted by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

thing to give the baby. All that vitamin C.”
    “We’re out of juice now. I do have some orange Kool-Aid—” She stopped at the horror that flashed across Mrs. Duffy’s face.
    She could almost hear Mrs. Duffy’s internal dialogue now. You’re poisoning my grandchild with additives and sugar!
    “It’s sugar-free,” she added weakly, feeling utterly stupid and small.
    She waited for the sonic boom to come. Any moment now, Mrs. Duffy would flash her forked tongue and demand to know why the heck she thought she had any business getting pregnant when it was obvious she was barely capable of taking care of herself.
    Right then, Jazz was tempted to agree with her.
    Gray’s mother swallowed deeply and plastered an utterly insincere smile on her flawlessly made-up face. “Orange was always my favorite flavor.”
    Yet again Jazz was reduced to blinking and gaping. Oh my word.
    “Um, okay. The kitchen is this way,” Jazz said, hurrying past her and down the hall.
    Then she came to a halt, looking around as if she’d never seen the place before. What was she supposed to do now?
    Duh, give the woman a drink and act hospitable. Play hostess. You can do that. You’ve been playing different roles all your life.
    Spying her forgotten breakfast, Jazz tried to smile. “Would you like some toast and jam? Or fresh fruit? I do have that. I have watermelon and red grapes and a slightly overripe cantaloupe. There might even be grapefruit left.”
    Mrs. Duffy smiled thinly. “Just the…Kool-Aid, please.”
    Jazz nodded and hurried to the fridge. This sure felt like that old adage about drinking the Kool-Aid. They were both pretending to be civil when there was all this crap seething under the surface, just waiting to explode all over the— oh shit —really dusty kitchen floor.
    Ignoring the dust for the time being, she poured the orange drink into the only clean glass she could find and handed it to Gray’s mom. Then she frowned at the full sink of dishes. Damn dirty boys.
    “The maid’s on vacation,” she said as cheerfully as possible when Mrs. Duffy’s gaze drifted toward the sink. “It’s so hard finding good help these days.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Duffy actually did have a maid. Gray had grown up with one in the house. The Duffys had money with a capital M, but they didn’t like to be flashy about it. Instead they used it to do good things like bring poor little foster children into their home so they could get attached to the Duffys before they were cast back onto the street like the pathetic urchins they were.
    Or had been once, in her case. She wasn’t an urchin or a foster child any longer. She was a drummer in a band, and a mother-to-be, and soon she would be a wife.
    It looked like she might get a chance to be a sister too.
    The older woman gave no indication of getting Jazz’s sarcasm. “Do you truly have a maid? If so, good for you. I imagine a nanny is next? I have some recommendations that could help. Several of my friends have children who—”
    “A nanny? Why?”
    “Because you won’t be able to take care of the child on your own. You simply can’t.” Mrs. Duffy lifted the glass, gave it a dark look and drained it in nearly one gulp. “You can’t,” she added for good measure.
    Jazz dropped into the nearest chair. “Why not?”
    “You’re in a band. You keep horrible hours. You go on tour. How could you possibly care for a child while you’re traveling around the world?”
    “We haven’t done a world tour yet,” Jazz muttered. “We have a bus. We can bring the baby. We’ve already talked about it. It won’t even be just us. Harper and Deacon are having a baby too, so our kids will be able to play together.”
    God, she wished Deak or Harp were there to talk to Mrs. Duffy. They were both so much better at projecting a stable image than she was. But Harp had an early job today and Deak had gone with her to help. That meant Jazz was on her own with the rest of the misfits.
    And today she felt