Love in a Pickle by Smartypants Romance

Author:Smartypants Romance [Dunbar, L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smartypants Romance

Chapter 20

Stranger Visits

[Chet]

* * *

“Hey, boss, someone’s here to see you,” Todd calls out to me when I arrive at The Fugitive.

Between my drinks with Henny and then the showdown with Scotia, last night was total shit. I’d had a shit day consulting with my board, who was approached by a potential buyer. I could sell my company tomorrow and make enough money to last me the rest of my life. I could retire and spend the remainder of my time with the boys and this bar and motel. But do I want to sit still at forty-six? I haven’t sat still in so long I’d go crazy if I tried, so the thought of turning my company over to someone else does not sound appealing to me. The last thing I can tackle is another shitstorm.

“Who?” I snap, knowing my agitation isn’t with Todd.

“Put her in the bus,” he clarifies, not answering my question but smirking at me.

“Her?” I pause. “You what?” I clip. He has some balls, that one, even if he is my best friend.

“Figured you didn’t want the mouse to get away.” He winks.

“Mouse?” I question, glaring at him. His smirk turns into a guffaw, and he winks at Striker sitting at the bar.

“I certainly wouldn’t let her get away, but then again, she already slipped by me,” the biker-regular teases.

“What the hell?” I retort, not understanding these guys and not in the mood for riddles.

“I’d be willing to trap that one,” Bones adds beside Striker, and my blood boils even though I don’t know who they are referencing.

“I am not in the mood for this,” I grumble, and Striker interjects.

“I’m in the mood. Send her to me.”

“Shut it,” Todd warns. Whoever he’s protecting, she’s someone important. “She’s Big Poppy’s.”

“Uh . . .” I don’t have anyone belonging to me, and that’s the way it needs to stay. Women just mess with your mind and your heart, confuse your body and drain your soul. I stalk toward the exit through the pool room, having parked in front of the bar as I typically do.

“You can thank me in the morning,” Todd calls after me, and I flip him the bird. Just what I need, more headache.

As I near the bus, I see the lights are on, but I can’t get a read on who is inside my home. It pisses me off that Todd so casually let someone in, and I press at the front door with a little more force than necessary.

“Alright, just what the—” I freeze when I see Scotia sitting on the loveseat that doubles as an extra-large lounger for me alone. She sits at the edge of the cushion, elbows on her knees. Her head pops up at the rush of my body entering my space. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. Her eyes question me, as if wanting me to tell her why she’s in my home. My shoulders sag, and I hang my head.

Between her aggravation the other night and her reaction over Hennessy, I don’t know what to say to her.

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