Crazy Heifer (The Valentine Boys 2)

“Oh, shit.” I managed to sound contrite. “I’m sorry.”

The woman next to me finally came unglued and placed her napkin over the spill. I did the same and had it contained before it started to roll off the table.

“No biggie.” Mal smiled as if I hadn’t done that on purpose.

We both knew that I had.

“If you don’t mind,” I said as the waitress finally set my food down in front of me, as well as the woman’s. “We’re hungry.”

Mal left, pulling Marjorie behind him before anything else could be said.

I guess I still had it.

Mal had never liked me and the feeling had been mutual.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered, staring at her food as if she was trying not to cry.

“Mal has always been a piece of shit,” I said as I picked my burger up. “Everything he does or says has a vindictive spin on it. Fuck him and everything that comes out of his mouth.”

I took a big bite of my burger and waited for her to do the same to her salad.

I usually didn’t like when women had salads. However, this particular salad actually looked pretty fuckin’ good.

So good, in fact, that I would consider eating it myself.

“Mal’s my ex-husband,” she murmured. “He gave my wedding ring, the one that used to belong to my mother and grandmother and her grandmother, to that woman.”

“Was she wearing it?” I asked in between bites.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“K.”

That’s when I got up and made my way to the table where Mal and Marjorie had retaken their seats. Eating much the same as they’d just bashed the woman for eating.

Mal’s eyes met mine before I could get halfway there.

I was still chewing my bite of burger as I stopped at their table.

I held my hand out for Marjorie to take, which she did.

“Marjorie, right?” I asked as I placed my other hand over hers.

Slip of the hand, and it was done.

“Yes,” she said. “You don’t remember me?”

I curled my lip up as I placed my hand in my pocket. “Yeah, I do. Which is why I’m only going to say this to y’all once. Leave her alone or deal with me.”

They both blinked.

“You don’t know me anymore, Callum. So don’t pretend to,” Mal growled.

My head tilted and I stared at him with cold, dead eyes.

“You don’t know me anymore, either,” I said quietly. “Think about that before you decide to hurt her again. And if I ever see you disrespect her in any way out in public again… well, let’s just say I know quite a few people in this town, one of which is your father.”

Mal’s eyes narrowed, and I wished I could pop him a good one before I left.

Alas, I liked being on the outside of a cell and not the inside.

That, and there was a very beautiful lady sitting next to my hamburger.

A pretty lady that was staring at me with curiosity when I made my way back to her.

The moment I sat down next to her, her face flamed.

“What did you just do?” she asked curiously.

I leaned toward her, shoved my hand into my pocket, and extracted her ring.

Holding it out to her on the palm of my hand, being sure to conceal it by holding it slightly under the table, her face went joyous.

“Oh my God!” she cried out.

Then she threw herself at me.

Unready for her show of happiness, I nearly dropped the ring and barely closed my hand around it before it fell to the floor.

“Whoa,” I said in surprise, closing my arms around her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered fiercely. “I would’ve been devastated if I never got it back.”

“Do you plan on wearing it for your next marriage?” I teased.

She shook her head, looking sad all of a sudden. “No. I plan on putting it in my jewelry box and never wearing it again. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want it… it was never really for the marriage, anyway. It was for me… something that represented my mom and my grandmother. When they died, I thought I would die right along with them. It’s one of the only things I have left of them.”

“Glad I got it for you then.” I reluctantly let her go.

When she sat back, her face once again reddening, I held out the ring to her.

She took it, gingerly picking it up and placing it onto her ring finger. Her right ring finger.

“You hate him, don’t you?” I asked.

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “You have no idea.”

“Try me,” I suggested.

Her smile was soft.

“I hate him enough to go run a Spartan race that I know I’m going to fail spectacularly at,” she whispered. “How’s that?”

That sounded pretty damn hateful right there.

I liked it.

“Well then, that makes two of us, because I’m running that, too,” I teased.