Read For Better or Worse for Free Online

rapped his palm lightly on the counter and stood up. “You know what you need, 4C?”
    â€œYes. Sleep.”
    â€œPancakes,” he countered.
    â€œPancakes?”
    â€œExactly.” He came toward her and plucked the milk from her hand, glancing down at it. “Nonfat. Not my usual jam, but I think Mom can make this work.”
    â€œMom?”
    Before Heather could register what was happening, Josh had placed a big warm hand on the small of her back and was ushering her toward the front door of her own apartment.
    â€œI don’t want pancakes,” she said through gritted teeth as she tried to push herself backward against his hand, to no avail. Jesus, those muscles didn’t lie—the guy was strong as an ox.
    â€œEverybody wants pancakes, 4C.”
    And apparently, just as stubborn.
    â€œHeather. My name is Heather.”
    â€œThat’s way too pretty a name for someone as snippy as you.”
    â€œI’m not snippy, I’m tired ,” she said, meaning it. She knew she was sort of a bitch around this guy, and she wasn’t loving herself right now, but he really did have the worst timing.
    Heather just wanted one good night’s sleep before she faced him again, and then maybe she could find her smile, find something nice to say, maybe even flirt.
    But because she was exhausted, neither her brain nor her legs were working as well as usual, and before she knew it, she’d let herself be ushered toward 4A.
    Josh shoved the door open and nudged her inside. “Mom, I brought you something sour,” he called out.
    â€œThe milk was no good?” came a female voice from the other room.
    â€œThe milk was fine,” Josh told the older lady who entered the living room. “It’s 4C here who’s a bit curdled.”
    â€œI’m not curdled,” Heather muttered.
    She wanted nothing more than to run for the door, but then the other woman was coming toward her with a wide smile. “You must be the nice girl that moved into Mrs. Calvin’s place! Oh my, aren’t you pretty.”
    Heather did find a smile for that, because, well, who wouldn’t?
    â€œDon’t get excited,” Josh said in a loud whisper as he headed toward his kitchen. “She says that to all the girls.”
    â€œI do,” Josh’s mom said with a wide smile. “But I don’t always mean it. Today I do.”
    â€œOh, well, thank you,” Heather said, lifting a self-conscious hand to her hair and trying to wrap it into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She liked her curls most of the time. Early morning before they’d seen shampoo or hair product was not one of those times.
    â€œI’m Sue Tanner,” the other woman said, extending a hand.
    â€œHeather Fowler.”
    The other woman looked exactly as a mom who made pancakes was supposed to look. Short, a little bit plump, her hair short and curly and graying. She was well dressed but not Manhattan trendy. The smile, though, was the best part. Wide and friendly and genuine.
    â€œSo, you’re sure your last name isn’t Heather Foul?” Josh asked, glancing up from where he was reheating an electric kettle.
    She would have given him the finger if not for the presence of his sweet mother.
    â€œI should go,” Heather said, ignoring Josh altogether and pasting on a smile for Sue. “You’re welcome to the milk.”
    Sue frowned. “You don’t like pancakes?”
    â€œI—”
    â€œDon’t fight it, 4C,” Josh said. “Coffee?”
    He poured the water into a French press, the smell of dark roasty beans hitting her nostrils within seconds, and . . . damn. Heather was a sucker for a good cup of coffee, and somehow she knew this was going to be a good cup of coffee.
    Josh caught her eye and winked. “Gotcha.”
    â€œShut up,” she muttered, earning a delighted laugh from Josh’s mom, who led her to the kitchen