“Okay. Sure.” I snicker again under my breath.
She walks over and kisses my cheek before throwing her skinny arms around me.
“Keep laughing and quit thinking so much, Rachel. Listen to your heart. You know what feels right and what doesn’t. Let that be your guide.” She picks up the spoon. “I have cookies to bake, and maybe you should give Faye a call or drop in on her in person.”
I give her a quick hug.
“You’re right. A real apology should be in person.”
“The keys to the car are on the hook.”
Faye isn’t the only one I need to have a heart-to-heart with, but she’s certainly a good place to start.
20
Like Pigs to the Slaughter (Weston)
The music, the smells, the lights are driving me batshit crazy.
I get why Uncle Grady let the kids go hog wild dressing up the bar for Halloween, but I’m not in any holiday spirit. If I see another jack-o’-lantern grinning at me, I might stab the fuck right between the eyes.
I’m not working, just sitting here at the Bobcat, occupying a space where the only thing that exists is my own stupidity.
I should go home, but I don’t want to be alone.
Also don’t want to be that close to Shelly.
She hates me, and I can’t blame her. After she heard me shitting out my mouth, there’s no pretending I’m not the biggest jagoff in human history.
Calling it a summer fling? Christ.
I saw the stricken look on her face, heard the quiver in her voice, and watched in slow, agonizing motion how badly I hurt her.
“Refill, West?” Grady asks.
“No, thanks.” Like usual, it’s just soda, but today it tastes like sugar acid.
“Want to tell me what happened? Is it the break-ins driving you up the frigging wall?”
“Nah, but I’ve got Marty keeping an eye on that Remington dude. First little slip he makes, I’m dragging him to Drake personally. Right after I beat his ass.”
Grady chuckles.
“So it’s the girl then,” he says.
“Come again?”
“If it’s not your thieves, it’s your love life. I know you too well, boy. Whether you like it or not, I’ve got something to say anyway.” He plants his elbows on the bar and leans toward me. “Sometimes, men think too damn much for their own good. Especially when it comes to women. Hell, half the guys in this town did it with their wives, and fuck knows I did with Willow. If I hadn’t let a Bengal tiger chase my head in the right place, I would’ve missed out on the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Yeah, well, you had Sawyer and Avery to worry about,” I say, taking another pull off my root beer.
“Oh, no. That was an excuse. The girls were crazy in love with her before I was man enough to realize I was too. I came this close”—he pauses, pinching a sliver of space between his thumb and pointer finger—“to being too stupid to live. That’s what I would’ve been if I hadn’t told my brain to shut up.”
I tilt my head, looking at him sideways.
“When it comes to women, West, you gotta go with your gut. Always. Just like when you meet somebody sneaky—and we’ve had plenty of experience with that around here—or when you know something awful’s about to pop off and you jump out of the way in the nick of time. That’s your gut working overtime, and it wants you to listen.”
I look at him, shaking my head.