Chelle nodded. “Thank you.”
Shade knew one thing. He’d be the one delivering those fucking ashes.
Chelle removed her hand and stepped back, breaking their connection. “When will I get him back?”
“It takes a couple of—”
Shade interrupted Cassie with, “Tomorrow.” He ignored her raised eyebrows. “Will bring him back tomorrow. What day?”
“You just said tomorrow, Shawn,” Cassie reminded him with a pointed look.
For fuck’s sake, he had rushed to speak and chose the wrong word. He tried again. “What time?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Uh... I should be home from work a little after three. So, four? Or is that too late?”
“Will be here at four,” he said more carefully.
Chelle gave them both a little smile as she moved from behind the van back onto the sidewalk. “Thank you both for being so compassionate. It made such a difficult time a little easier. Pumpkin hated going to the vet and...”
When her lips stopped moving, he realized he’d been staring at them.
Cassie elbowed him in the ribs. “Shawn.”
“Tomorrow,” he repeated.
“See you tomorrow,” Chelle answered. “Thank you.”
With one last look at Shade and then the cat in his arms, she turned and went back to the house.
“Do what you need to do with Pumpkin and let’s go,” Cassie said with a sly grin.
No tears today.
She threw her bag in the back and went around to the passenger side.
Shade did what he had to do to secure the cat. Once he closed the rear double doors, he turned to glance at the house. He hadn’t been expecting to see Chelle standing on the porch, watching him.
Maybe she thought he was a freak.
Maybe she was now worried about her daughters’ safety.
Maybe she’d call Cassie tomorrow morning to tell her she didn’t want Shade delivering the ashes.
She lifted her hand slightly in a sort of wave.
He jerked up his chin at her in response and headed to the driver’s door.
Or maybe he’d see her tomorrow at four.
And maybe she’d smell like warm apple pie and an even warmer woman.
Chapter Two
He was too fucking tired to head up the mountain tonight. He’d gotten no sleep last night since he had processed the last Shirley he bagged in the Easy Bake oven.
He spent the day cremating Chelle Goodson’s cat, along with two other pets. After scooping up Pumpkin’s ashes, he placed them carefully in the small carved box she ordered.
He had no idea why people wanted to keep ashes.
He didn’t get it. Probably never would.
Now, he needed sleep.
He also needed to make sure he got sleep. To do so, he headed out to the pavilion where it was quieter than the bunkhouse or The Barn.
It was certainly quieter out there than Crazy Pete’s.
The darkness of night guaranteed he could sit unseen for a little bit. Though, Easy knew his hiding spot and wandered out from The Barn and joined him not ten minutes later.
He hadn’t said much when he came out. Once he settled on top of the picnic table next to Shade, he broke out a hand-rolled. Between puffs on his cigarette, he’d hold out his hand for a hit off Shade’s joint.
If anyone knew Shade best, it was Easy since they worked at the crematorium together. His club brother didn’t push him to have unnecessary conversation just to fill the void. He didn’t prod Shade about his past. Most likely so Shade didn’t ask Easy about his.
They all had secrets. Every fucking one of them. Which is why he liked it here. Unless you wanted to share, you didn’t have to. As long as you worked and were loyal to the brotherhood, you were good.
Judge didn’t trust him at first and ran a background check on him. But that was all right. He’d only had minor scrapes with the law, nothing where he’d done any time. That was because he was always really fucking careful.
Really fucking careful.
He reached behind him and picked up the Mason jar he brought back on one of his trips up the mountain. He’d found a hidden stash up there. The moonshine the clan made was potent and helped numb his brain so he could sleep without dreaming.
“Where’d you get that?” Easy asked.
Shade passed it to him and, after a whiff, Easy took a sip. “Holy fuck. Shit tastes like apple pie with a toxic twist.” He took another sip and grimaced.
The mention of apple pie had his thoughts turning to Chelle. He couldn’t get her out of his brain.
If the moonshine and pot didn’t knock his ass out, then he’d use the vision of the strawberry-blonde imprinted on his brain to help. Not many women caught his interest. But there was something about this one...
He had no idea why.
He looked forward to seeing her again tomorrow when he dropped off the cremains, but afterward he needed to scrape her from his thoughts.
She wasn’t for him.
Or more like it, he wasn’t for her.