Crazy Heifer (The Valentine Boys 2)

Desi sat beside me with a grimace on her face. “That’s mean.”

“It was,” I agreed. “But, she’s done some shit to him just as mean. Just saying. But his definitely took the cake.” I snickered. “When we got back, Banks had a run-in with her at the feed store. She gave him shit, and he lied and said he was me. Now she takes it out on both of us.”

“Sounds to me like she likes him and he likes her.” Desi propped her feet up carefully next to mine. “Okay?”

I nodded.

“Not that I’m not happy that you’re here,” I said. “But why are you here?”

Desi’s smile was brittle. “I think I might take you up on that house.”

I blinked. Then grinned.

“That’s great, but I thought that was already figured out when I left.” I was filled with relief at her words, though. Earlier when I’d gone, she hadn’t looked happy about anything. Hence the reason I left. “Did you and Malloy come up with a good number?”

That had her scoffing.

“Yeah, no.” She snorted. “Apparently what I think is right and what he thinks is right are two different numbers. Mine being a million so I can pay off all of my loan free and clear and his being two and a half. When I argue with him, he brings up the ‘I’m dying and not going to need my money soon’ excuse and then I’m agreeing when I don’t want to.”

My lips quirked.

“Malloy was always my favorite parent of all of Ace’s friends,” I said. “He never cared if we tagged along and even encouraged it.”

She sighed and leaned her head back against the couch.

“Do you happen to want to go look at the store he bought me?” she whispered. “I don’t think I can go by myself.”

I looked at my seriously discolored, rapidly swelling foot, and said, “Now?”

I mean, if that was what she wanted, I’d gladly hobble my way out the door.

But I was hoping that wasn’t the case.

I was really, really hoping, actually.

“No,” she said overly loud. “I was talking about tomorrow… or whenever you can walk without having to jump.”

My brows rose. “How did you know that I jumped?”

She gestured to the living room. “There aren’t any crutches around.”

I hid my grin behind the arm I brought up and covered my face with.

“I don’t have any crutches,” I admitted. “I’m lucky to have found a Ziplock bag for fuckin’ ice at this point. Apparently, my family doesn’t realize that when something is empty, they should, you know, tell someone that it’s empty. I found fuckin’ four empty Ziplock bag boxes. I had to steal a bag that had Darby’s chips in it for school tomorrow.”

The peel of laughter coming from the woman beside me had me turning to look at her and removing my arm from my face.

“I can go get you some crutches and an ice pack from the store.” She paused. “And an ACE bandage to wrap around it. Compression is a good thing. Luckily, you have it elevated.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“Will you allow me to pay for said items?”

She scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips. “Sure.”

Liar.

“If you leave your wallet here and take mine, I’ll allow you to go.” I grinned. “And if you picked up some dinner on the way back, as well as Ziplock baggies and a gallon of milk, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Her eyes started to sparkle. “What would be worth my while?” she wondered. “I’m not really a woman to go into things half-cocked. I have to know exactly what I’m getting into now.”

Why did I feel like I’d known her forever?

Seriously, I’d known her for a few days. We really shouldn’t be this comfortable together yet.

But talking to her like this was easy.

What was even easier was the way she was sitting beside me, leaning her entire body against mine.

It felt easy… and right.

So, so right.

“Okay, I’ll go.” She stood up, being careful not to jostle me. “What do you want to eat?”

She reached for her keys that were in her purse, a purse I hadn’t seen her set down, and started to sling the purse over her shoulder.

I shook my head and gestured with my hand.

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her wallet.

I shook my head again. “You better give me the entire thing. I’m not sure I trust you with that look on your face.”

She made a scoffing sound, but ultimately did what I said, tossing the purse down onto the table next to the overstuffed couch I’d made myself comfortable on.

I reached for my wallet that was in my back pocket and then handed it to her.

“The pin to my bank card is 4040,” I told her.

Her mouth dropped open.

“You can’t tell people you barely know your bank card pin number!” she practically screeched.