I was halfway through an email asking for information—my contacts were quickly learning that I was out and wanting my expertise—when my grandmother set a large glass of milk by my side and walked away.
“Thank you,” I called to her back.
She lifted a hand and went back to her station behind the counter, only this time with her back turned to the door as she got some cupcakes decorated.
My lips twitched and I went back to the email requesting help.
It was from an old friend on the department, and it had to do with a case we’d worked a long time ago.
The case was about a serial rapist. A slew of women had turned up within a two-week time period reporting their rapes. And all of them from different walks of life.
Each case had other things similar, though. Such as their location—always a house or apartment, and they always lived with a roommate who just so happened not to be there that day.
Which might’ve been what got me about Harleigh’s predicament. The similarities to the ones I’d been working right before I’d been sent to prison.
The ones that I’d been working on with Vanessa.
Anyway, long story short, the rapist was caught and sent to jail—though not my jail, unfortunately. According to the email I’d gotten from Logan, who’d been a rookie cop working on his first couple of cases, the rapist had gotten out of jail three years ago and hadn’t been heard from since.
The reason for his email, however, was a very similar case had popped up just a few towns over from us in Uncertain, Texas and Logan wanted me to know about it. Evidently, he found quite a few similarities in the case, and felt that I might be able to look into it or find someone else that could look into it for him.
Which I could.
And would.
Finishing off my last cookie, I fired off an email that I would take a look at it, then stood up.
That was when I saw him.
Charles.
An ex-best friend who I hadn’t seen in a really long time.
Since before jail at least.
I gave him a chin lift and said, “How’s it going?”
Charles narrowed his eyes, lips thinning, and shrugged. “Good. Nice seeing you.”
He didn’t act like it was nice seeing me.
“How’s work?” I asked.
Charles’ hand fisted at his side, but he still smiled at me like it didn’t pain him to be in my presence. “Fine. Moved to the sheriff’s department just last year. I don’t work for BBPD anymore.”
Bummer.
Not.
I actually liked that he didn’t work in the same town that I did.
It would make seeing him less of a possibility.
“How’s life treating you?” I asked.
His jaw ticked. “Ummm, okay.”
He suddenly looked hostile.
“You okay?” I asked.
I wish I knew what the hell I’d done to him to make him hate me so much.
“Fine,” he shrugged. “See you around.”
I doubted it.
Now that he knew that I was in this place, he’d probably never come back.
But he had to have known that it would happen sooner or later. I mean, he knew that my grandmother owned the place.
When the door slammed behind him, I sighed and looked behind the case for my grandmother but didn’t see her.
Shrugging, I walked around the display case, did a quick wash of my hands because my grandmother would lose her shit if I didn’t, and started helping myself to another cookie, this time in a different flavor.
“Ummm,” I heard from the other side. “But what the fuck? You can’t just go behind there and help yourself. Not only is that not allowed, but it’s also unsanitary.”
“I washed my hands at the sink.” I gestured to the sink that was practically hidden from view thanks to the tall display cases. “And what’s it to you what I do?”
“This is my favorite bakery,” she countered. “What’s it to me is that I don’t want that sweet old lady fucked over by someone like you.”
Someone like you being a convict.
My brows rose.
“Someone like me?” I asked sweetly.
Her eyes narrowed. “Someone mean, and a rule breaker. Listen, just get out from behind the counter, or I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.”
I reached into the case for another cookie, then pulled out a cinnamon twist in the case lower than that. Once I had both onto my plate, I walked over to the coffee pot and helped myself there, too.
I told myself I wasn’t taking my time just to see what she would do, but I was.
Getting her riled up, and watching her getting riled up, was making me want to laugh.
Each step I took not in the direction she wanted me to, made her eyes narrow farther and farther.
It was only as I hopped up onto the metal counter, spun my legs around, and stayed there, that she ‘got serious.’ And I only knew she got serious because she said so.
“Listen, I’m about to get serious,” she informed me. “Don’t make me do it.”
I added cream even though there was some at my table and watched her the entire time.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then she opened her mouth and called my grandmother.
“Abuela!” Harleigh cried out. “There’s a large man sticking his hands into your display cases!”
My Abuela appeared as if she was conjured by God himself.
Her eyes narrowed on me, and her hands went to her hips.
“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” Her accent was particularly thick when she wanted it to be.
I held up the now-empty coffee creamer and said, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I had a feeling you were putting stuff into the oven.”
She looked at the pot holders on her hands, and then back at me.
“You lie. Again.” She shook her pot holder hand at me, and I had a feeling that she was pointing, but I couldn’t quite tell due to the pot holder.
“Me? Never!” I placed the coffee creamer canister back onto the counter and turned to her. “Are you ever going to give me a hug?”
She frowned. “Are you ever going to come over here more than you’re doing right now?”
“Actually?” I asked. “Yes. I’m going to work for you part-time. I told someone I was going to, and I don’t want to be made a liar.”
“I don’t need any help,” she lied.
I rolled my eyes.
My grandmother likely didn’t. At least, she didn’t think she needed any.
She probably did but was so used to doing everything herself that she’d convinced herself that help wasn’t needed.
Up until a couple of years ago when Izzy started seeing Rome, she’d had help from our other family members.
However, when Izzy decided to leave the family business, my grandmother had been forced to choose sides.
She’d already been wavering due to how my family had treated me after I’d announced that I was marrying Vanessa, but how they’d treated Izzy when she’d informed them she was taking time off to help with a dying child? Well, my grandmother was done.
She washed her hands of them, which meant no more help from the children who really only wanted food in exchange for helping her for an hour during rush hour.
“I’ll be here at five every morning and leave around noon. I have another job I’ve been forced into working,” I explained.
I heard a cute little growl from behind me and turned to see Harleigh with her eyes narrowed, sending death-glares at me.
I hadn’t forgotten about her, I just found it fun to give her hell.
“You know this person, Abuela?” Harleigh asked. “Want me to call the cops?”
Abuela seriously looked like she was considering it for a moment before shaking her head. “No. He’s my grandson.”
Harleigh gasped. “Y’all look nothing alike!”
That was true.
I was the black sheep of the family.
My grandmother moved to the United States from Mexico when I was fourteen as had my father’s parents. I, on the other hand, had the dark hair like my family—but that was where the resemblance ended.
I didn’t know Spanish well because I had lived in the United States my whole life. My parents had spoken Spanish, so I knew more than I was willing to admit, but at the age of fourteen, I refused to answer to Spanish. When my grandparents moved in with our family, all they did was call me names and demand stuff of me – in Spanish- so I refused to answer. My skin tone was light, unlike my siblings—meaning I looked like the red-headed stepchild of the family. Speaking of red hair, even my beard had a hint of red to it when in the right light.
I was tall—much taller than the rest of my family—by at least a foot. I had muscles compared to my father and brother’s short stockiness—almost fat.
And my eyes weren’t the brown of the rest of the family, but hazel. They changed with my emotions, the weather, or whatever shirt I happened to be wearing at the time.
My grandmother, however, liked to point out that the man she slept with to conceive my mother had the same jade green eyes and red hair.
“I slept with a Highlander,” my grandmother said. “Slate here is all him. Down to the red tint to his hair when the sun hits it just right.”
My grandmother’s eyes shined with amusement as she said that.
“You were married to a Highlander?” Harleigh gasped.
“Slept with,” she corrected. “I was young and dumb. But that man was the best mistake I’ve ever made.”
Harleigh snickered. “One of my dad’s friends looks like a Highlander. He has the red beard and the green eyes you speak about. His name is actually Lachlan.”
Abuela’s eyes went shimmery with amusement. “Do you want more cookies, Harleigh?”
Harleigh shook her head and sighed. “No. I have to be going, anyway.”
I took a sip of my coffee and studied her.
While she spoke with my grandmother, I finished off my food, then took my time on the coffee.
“Shame,” Abuela said. “My grandbabies are on their way in. I know that Astrid would’ve liked seeing you again.”
Harleigh smiled. “I have to go into work tonight, or I would totally stay. But I’ll be back tomorrow!”
Abuela smiled, then walked to the display case and pulled out one more cookie.
“For tonight when you get tired of all those jerks you work with,” my grandmother declared.
Harleigh smiled and took the cookie. “You’re too good to me.”
They shared a secret smile. A smile that slid off of Harleigh’s face when she saw me staring at her.
“Anyway,” she said softly, peeling her eyes away from mine. “Y’all have a good night.”
With that, she walked out and didn’t look back.
It was only when the silence went on for too long that I realized that I’d watched her walk out the door, and my grandmother had watched me watch her.
“You go there,” my grandmother said. “And you’ll get burned like you did with that other girl.”
I made a face.
That other girl meaning the girl that I dated in high school. The one that I’d loved to hate there in the beginning.
She’d gone off to college and broken my heart while I’d stayed here and shouldered responsibilities that I never should have had to do at that young of an age.
I should’ve been able to go to college, too.
Should’ve gotten to use that college football scholarship instead of staying home and being forced to work in the family cleaning business.
Should’ve…could’ve…but didn’t.
“Whatever.”
My grandmother laughed just as the bottom of the sky opened up and it began to rain.
“Shit,” I muttered darkly.
“Better go,” my grandmother urged. “It’s not supposed to stop until next week. April showers bring May flowers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Abuela, it’s only February.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
Her use of ‘whatever’ was amusing to say the least.
After giving her a quick hug and stealing a cupcake, I headed for the doors.
After eating the cupcake in two quick bites, I threw the trash into the trashcan by the door, gave one final wave, and headed out into the wetness.
Luckily it wasn’t as cold as it had been the last couple of weeks.
Today it was balmy and seventy-five degrees, meaning that spring in Texas had well and truly begun, even though the calendar indicated we had six more weeks of winter to go.
See, weather in Texas did its own thing. It didn’t follow the rules all the other states followed.
The rain, however, was quite cold as it saturated my t-shirt.
After fumbling with my phone in my pocket, I shoved it into the saddlebags of my bike before getting on and starting it up.
It was only as I was a half a block down the road that I realized that Harleigh was carless.
I passed her two blocks down from the bakery, and she was already soaked to the bone.
I pulled over and called out to her.
“Get on.”
Harleigh made a face.
“I think not.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re wearing suede boots. You allow water to get into the liner, and you might as well throw those bad boys away.”
Harleigh looked down at her grey Ugg boots, then sighed.
I’d tried not to pay attention to her outfit, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.
She had on black leggings, a black long-sleeved t-shirt that had ‘Rogue’ across the breast, and her grey Ugg boots to finish off the ensemble.
Her hair was once again plaited down each side in piggy tails, and it took everything I had not to reach out and tug one.
God, what the fuck was wrong with me?
“Ugh,” she grumbled. “Fine.”
I scooted farther up the seat to allow her room to get on seeing as I didn’t have a seat for an extra person, then grinned when she mounted behind me as if she’d done it every day for her entire life.
Which, knowing who her father was, she probably had.
Idly I wondered if she knew how to drive a motorcycle but decided now wasn’t the time to be asking her that.
“Ready?” I asked.
She hesitantly put her arms around me, and I rolled my eyes.
“Tighter, Princess,” I teased. “Or you’ll fall off when I take the first turn.”
She tightened her hold, and I decided that was likely good enough.
Any tighter and I’d be thinking about the things pressed against me and not the road.
Using my thighs to level the bike, I levered the kickstand up I had no memory of placing down, then started off.
The rain was pelting me in the face and neck, hitting me so hard that I could feel the stings burning each time one hit me.
I almost laughed when she curled into my back with a squeak.
The rest of the ride was spent like that, driving about thirty-five miles an hour with her tucked into my back and shielding herself from the rain.
When I finally pulled into her driveway and patted her thigh, she gasped.
“Thank God,” she muttered darkly. “I thought that ride would never end.”
I tried not to take exception to the fact, but my mind automatically went to the fact that she didn’t like being touched by me, not because of the rain.
I nodded once. “Have a good night at work, Princess.”
She waved at me. “Thank you.”
I tipped my chin up at her and backed out of her drive, only to turn right into mine a few feet later.
Since I was already wet as fuck, I decided to put the bike in the garage, which required me getting off, lifting the garage door manually since I’d never had an automatic opener installed, and getting back on the bike to get it inside.
All the while, I had the distinct feeling of someone’s eyes on me the entire time. However, when I looked up to glance around, nobody was there.
Chapter 6
If you are lonely, dim all the lights and put on a scary movie. Then you won’t feel so alone.
-Text from her dad to Harleigh
Harleigh
I didn’t know why I was walking into the bakery when I’d already been twice this week.
Sure, the cookies were good, but usually I had more control over my cravings.
Though, those cravings weren’t for food.
They were for a man.
I was stalking my neighbor.
Well, not stalking, per se.
More like going places that I knew he would be.
Yesterday over the phone, my father had explained that he’d hired Slate to work for Free part-time. And…I hadn’t been mad.
After seeing him with his grandmother, a woman that I’d come to adore since moving to Bear Bottom, I’d been looking at him in a different light.
And now, I found myself going to a bakery that I knew he probably would be at, to get some cookies and danishes to take over to my father’s house because I knew he’d be there later.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Slate had ‘bad news’ written all over him. Honestly, I would be surprised if he ever colored inside the lines.
Swallowing hard, I curled my hand around the bar and opened the door, smiling wide when I saw the wall of men in the middle of the bakery.
A wall of men that had ‘Bear Bottom Guardians MC’ stamped on their leather cuts.
The silent man that hadn’t wanted to shake my hand turned, saw who it was, and gently stepped out of the way.
“Go ahead,” he gestured. “We were wanting to get something, but we still have to look. This is our first time here.”
I could imagine his unsureness.
The place was a diamond in the rough.
From the outside, you wouldn’t think that it was as special as it was, but on the inside? Well, there was so much to choose from that it was unreal.
I smiled at Bayou and walked past the barrage of muscle, grinning at a few of the guys that took a quick glance down at me before making my way up to the front counter…where there was no one in sight.
F-Bomb (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 9) Page 6
