The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(28)

“No, I’m building a house. Once it’s done, I’ll hide out there forever.”

She laughed, a throaty, rich sound of a woman who didn’t laugh often. “You can hide out tomorrow. Get your wallet.”

I huffed but stood and followed orders, grabbing my wallet and a hat from the counter inside. Then together, we walked downtown. Me in sweats. Harry in pajamas.

It was early enough that the shops and offices were closed. There were a few cars outside the coffee shop and a handful in front of the café, but otherwise the sidewalks were quiet. A man walked on the opposite side of First. When he glanced our direction, I pulled my hat lower.

“That’s Grayson,” Harry said. “He’s a deputy at the sheriff’s department. Good kid.”

I shrugged and kept walking. We were a block from the White Oak where breakfast and the privacy of a booth awaited.

Harry pointed down the block to where a woman was walking her labradoodle our way. “That’s Carlee. She’s been Marcy’s best friend since sixth grade.”

“Okay,” I drawled and flipped up my hood.

Harry scoffed. “What exactly do you think is going to happen if you show your face?”

“I’ll probably get hassled.”

“You will.” She nodded. “If you keep yourself apart, you’ll always be a novelty. Do you think Lucy Ross gets hassled every time she comes downtown?”

“I don’t know. Does she?”

“No. Because she’s one of us. This is her home.”

“What about tourists?”

“I’m sure some ask her for an autograph from time to time. But if I saw Lucy with a crowd of people and she looked uncomfortable, what do you think I’d do? What do you think any of us would do?”

“Come to her rescue.”

“You’re smarter than you look.” Harry tapped her temple. “But I don’t know if I’d rescue you.”

“Fine.” I flipped my hood off and raised the brim of my hat. “Better?”

She answered with a smug grin, then waited for me to open the door to the White Oak.

The scent of bacon and cinnamon rolls made my stomach growl as we stepped inside. Harry didn’t stop at the hostess station. She plucked two menus from the stack and set off for a table. Did she pick the booth tucked into the corner? No, she chose the table that was directly in the middle of the restaurant.

I sat in the chair across from hers and buried my face in the menu.

“Morning, Harry.” The waitress appeared with a carafe of coffee and two ceramic mugs.

“Morning, Marcy.”

The name had me looking up.

“Two Marcys in Calamity. My daughter,” Harry explained. “And Marcy Davis.”

“Ah.”

Harry kicked me under the table.

“What?” I gritted, rubbing my shin.

She jerked her chin to Marcy.

“Oh.” I sighed and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Marcy. I’m Cal.”

“You’ve been in a few times.” She shook my hand. “Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll give you guys a few minutes,” Marcy said, then disappeared.

Harry poured coffee for us both. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” I said, lifting my cup. It was nearly scalding, but I sipped it anyway.

The door opened and a woman breezed inside wearing charcoal slacks and a sleeveless black blouse. Her hair was twisted into a knot, showcasing the long line of her neck. A neck I’d kissed just days ago.

Nellie.

Christ, but she was beautiful. My body responded instantly, like it always did. A thump of my heart. A breath I had to force myself to take. A spike of heat.

Would I ever stop craving her?

Harry followed my gaze, twisting to peer over her shoulder. By the time she faced forward, my eyes were already locked on the menu again. She did me a favor by reading hers too.

I risked another glance toward the door and found Nellie’s green eyes waiting. They widened, just slightly. Then she squared her shoulders and walked toward a booth.

It wasn’t empty.

No, sitting across from her was another man.

He stood and kissed her cheek before she could sit.

That was my fucking cheek.

Except it wasn’t. Because Nellie was here on a date.





CHAPTER EIGHT





NELLIE





Normally after a hookup, Cal and I would go months without seeing each other. We’d stay a thousand miles apart. It had only been three days since he’d been at my house. And three days wasn’t nearly long enough.

I hadn’t had time to forgive myself for being weak. I hadn’t had time to compartmentalize the sex. I hadn’t had time to remind myself that the only feelings I had for Cal Stark were disdain and annoyance.

I needed more than three days. And I really needed him to be in another state, not sitting two tables over while I attempted to eat my breakfast.

“How are the pancakes?” Zach asked.

“Good.” I shoved another bite in my mouth. Whatever appetite I’d come to the White Oak with had vanished the moment I’d stepped through the café’s door and spotted Cal. It took all my effort to swallow a bite and force a smile. “Thanks again for helping me yesterday.”