Story of My Life (Story Lake #1)

10. Captain Pouty Man Bear Hot Dog Fingers

10

CAPTAIN POUTY MAN BEAR HOT DOG FINGERS

CAMPBELL

Seriously?” I said from behind the wooden hardware bin organizer that served as the store’s counter when Trouble and her sidekick slunk into the general store’s front door with the jingle of the bell.

Melvin roused himself out of his dog bed from his nineteenth nap of the day and trotted around to greet the new customers.

“Hey there, buddy,” Hazel said, leaning down to squish Melvin’s furry face between her hands. His wagging tail slapped an entire bin of insect repellent sticks to the floor.

“Nice, dog bear,” Zoey said, politely tapping him on the head before backing up several feet.

I’d agreed to close up for the night to give my dad some time with the numbers on the Heart House job that absolutely wasn’t happening. It had been a slow night, so I’d entertained myself with a few minutes of online research into Story Lake’s newest resident.

Okay, fine. Forty minutes. I was bored, okay?

According to the internet, the woman making kissy noises at my sister’s dog was a best-selling author of nine “zany” small-town romantic comedies. The search engine had also served up her social media, and I’d been trying to covertly watch the video she’d posted in the middle of the night two days ago between the trickle of customers.

“Listen, pouty man bear,” Hazel said. “I don’t have the energy for round two with you. Can you please point us in the direction of laundry detergent, any clothing you might have, and snacks? Then we’ll be delighted to get out of your hair.”

Zoey’s eyebrows lifted. “Look who’s rediscovering her backbone.”

“It’s easier to be mean to him because he’s a jerk and won’t take offense,” Hazel explained.

“Whatever, just hurry the hell up,” I said.

“See?” Hazel said, pointing at me.

“Carts are behind you. Cleaning supplies are in the aisle marked Cleaning Supplies . And we don’t have any clothing someone like you would want in her closet,” I said, not feeling the least bit guilty for being unhelpful.

Hazel shook her head and grabbed a cart. “I’m starting to question the sanity of fictional women everywhere. How would you not hold a pillow over his face after a while?” she asked Zoey.

“Fictional women are more patient and better rested,” Zoey said. “How cute is this mosquito repellent thing?” She pointed at my sister’s bug spray display that probably should have been redone ages ago.

“Adorable,” Hazel said dryly.

They walked past me, and I caught a whiff of alcohol. A big whiff. But I was too busy pretending to ignore them to ask any questions.

“You wanna hurry it up? We’re closing,” I snarled ten minutes later.

“Actually, you’re not closing for another twenty-four minutes,” Zoey said, popping out of the grocery aisle with an armload of snacks.

“Zoey worked retail through two holiday seasons in college. She won’t let me go inside a store if it’s within ten minutes of closing,” Hazel reported. Her cart was full, and as much as I wanted to complain about her presence, the store could use a big fat sale even if it came from a pain in my ass.

I sniffed again as she marched over to a display of locally branded apparel. She smelled like she’d taken a bath in a vat of communion wine. “You been drinking?”

“No, but my luggage has,” she said distractedly as she held up a mustard-yellow tank top that said Story Lake across the chest. She threw it in the cart, then added a pair of matching shorts, a T-shirt depicting lake fish by size, and a long-sleeve shirt in hunter-safety orange.

Laura would be thrilled. She’d been dying to order newer, less awful apparel, but Dad refused until we sold every last piece of garbage he’d commissioned five years ago. Maybe if I was feeling big brotherly on my next shift, I’d slap a fifty percent off sign on the rest of the crap and be done with it.

“Haze, I found wine!” Zoey called from the row of coolers on the back wall.

“You sell bait, inflatable rafts, groceries, and wine?” Hazel asked me as she jogged past with the cart. Melvin trotted after her.

I shrugged and pretended I was fascinated by the cash in the register drawer.

They returned to the counter ten minutes to closing with a cart so full that Hazel was using both hands to hold the bottles of wine in place while Zoey steered. Melvin helped by nosing Zoey in the ass every other step like he was herding her.

Great. Now I had to actually ring everything up. I was the slowest typer in the family, which meant we were going to be here forever. I should have listened to Laura and voted with her for the updated register with the barcode scanner.

Grumbling, I snapped open a few reusable tote bags without asking because they seemed like reusable tote people and I might as well charge them extra for my inconvenience.

They began to unload their cart, filling the entire six feet of counter with stuff. This was not the shopping haul of someone who was headed back to the city tomorrow. This was the haul of someone who thought they were sticking around for a while.

“You sell coffee?” Hazel asked, eyeing the drink menu on the chalkboard behind me while I plugged in the barcode of two six-packs of mini Wild Cherry Pepsi.

“Nope,” I said, moving on to the boxes of oatmeal.

“Then what’s with the menu and the espresso machine?” She gestured at the stainless-steel monster on the counter behind me.

My fingers mashed the wrong keys, and I had to start over. “My sister is the only one who knows how to run it. Now if you can stop talking so I can concentrate…”

“Bet she knows how to ring people out faster too,” Zoey muttered.

I stopped what I was doing mid-barcode. “You think you can do better?” A toddler during a nap could do better, but it had been a long fucking day.

“No, of course not.” Hazel placated.

“Yes,” Zoey insisted.

“Are you trying to poke the bear?” Hazel asked her friend.

“I’m trying to get us out of here to get you some dinner before you turn into Hangry Hazel. At this rate, we’ll still be here until lunchtime tomorrow. Step aside, Hot Dog Fingers,” Zoey said, rounding the counter.

“Might as well do what she says,” Hazel warned me. “It’s just easier.”

“How bad is Hangry Hazel?” I asked, taking a step back from the register.

“Not bad,” Hazel said.

“Horrible,” Zoey corrected. She picked up a box of oatmeal with one hand as the fingers of her other flew over the number pad.

“How are you at bagging?” Hazel asked as Zoey slid a carton of eggs, a jug of milk, and two packs of bacon my way.

“Better than typing,” I said and shoved the eggs and milk into a bag.

Hazel rounded the counter and pulled the eggs back out. “I’ll just…give you a hand.”

I grunted and made room for her.

“Do you usually work here?” Hazel asked over the tip-tap of her friend’s nails on the register.

“I fill in when necessary. We all do,” I hedged.

She hummed and double-bagged the cans of soup.

“What?” I demanded defensively.

She shrugged. “I’m just hoping you’re a better contractor than you are store employee.”

I glared at her. “Yeah? Well, I hope you’re a better councilwoman than driver.”

She scoffed. “As long as there are no eagles flying at my head in council meetings, I think I can handle it.”

She reached across me to grab a box of protein bars. Her elbow skimmed across my stomach, and I stiffened. My body went on full alert like there was a threat nearby. And that threat was a willowy romance novelist in the middle of a midlife crisis.

I sniffed her hair. Not because I wanted to or that I was some weird hair-sniffing creeper. But because it smelled like it had been used to mop up a bar floor after closing. “Seriously, why do you smell like you bathed in red wine?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The wine I packed broke in my trunk. Now everything I own smells like cabernet.”

The store phone rang, and I gladly abandoned standing within sniffing distance of her to grab the receiver off the wall.

“Yeah? I mean, Bishop’s General Store.”

“Are you letting two women rob us right now or did you hire new employees without asking me, Cam?” My sister did not sound pleased.

I glanced up at the security camera and flipped it the bird. “Neither. Don’t you have better things to do than spy on me?”

“Not when you’re making Hazel Hart ring herself out and bag her own groceries,” Laura said shrilly.

I stretched the ancient cord as far away from Hazel’s perky ears as it would go. “It was either that or be here until midnight. Also how do you know that’s who it is?”

“They’re totally talking about you,” Zoey said without looking up from the price tags on Hazel’s horrible new wardrobe.

Hazel winced. “Hopefully it’s good.”

I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “It’s definitely not good. My sister loves Goose. She thinks we should put you in jail for abuse of an eagle.”

“Campbell Shithead Bishop, if you don’t stop being rude to her, I’m gonna come down there and throw leftover chili all over your truck. Inside and out,” Laura warned in my ear. She would too. My sister was an expert at revenge.

“Relax, Larry. It’s our thing. We’re mean to each other in a funny way.”

“He’s just mean in a mean way,” Hazel called.

“Shut it or I’ll charge you double,” I warned her.

“Look, I don’t know how you run your side of the family business. If you want to piss off the only client in two years to come to you looking for six figures of work, then that’s your own stupid man fault. But you will not be a dick to my customers.”

“Calm down.” Laura and her fiery temper absolutely hated being told to calm down. But I was safe because she was three blocks away.

“That’s it. I’m going to murder your face next time I see you. Put her on the phone,” Laura said using her scariest mom voice.

“No.” I was not about to be intimidated by my younger sister, especially not over the phone.

“Fine. Then I’m calling Mom, Cammy,” Laura threatened.

Fuck.

“Here. She wants to talk to you.” I shoved the receiver into Hazel’s hands, then shot the security camera two middle fingers.

“Oh. Uh. Okay. Hi,” Hazel said into the phone.

I ducked under the spiral cord and started stuffing food and wine into bags, pretending I wasn’t eavesdropping.

“No, it’s fine. He’s…” She paused and glanced at me. “Yeah. That. I promise I won’t hold it against the entire family.”

I didn’t have to imagine the insults my sister was hurling in my direction. They were always the same. Gage was the charmer, Levi was the strong, silent type, and I was the family dick.

“We really like your store. You’ve got something for everyone,” Hazel said, twirling the cord around her finger. I dropped a bag of wine on the counter in front of her with a thump.

Hazel laughed low and throaty, and Zoey shot a surprised look at her friend.

“Cactus Cam? That’s a good one,” Hazel said, her lips quirking. Her eyebrows disappeared into her fringe of bangs. “He did what when he was nine?”

On a growl, I wrestled the phone away from her, getting us both tangled in the cord in the process. Her chest bumped into my torso, and once again my entire body reacted like someone was about to throw a punch at my face.

“If you don’t mind, I have shit to do to close up your store, Larry,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that I had a woman wriggling against me for the first time in…way too fucking long.

There was a hiss of breath on the other end of the call. “If it were up to me, I’d be there and you’d be home,” Laura reminded me, with just the hint of a tremble in her voice.

Feeling lower than unexpected dog shit on a sidewalk, I quit trying to free myself. I swiped a hand over my forehead. “Fuck. Laur, I’m sorry. I just had a long day?—”

“Sinker, sucker!” she cackled in my ear. It was family code for hook, line, and sinker . As in, I had just taken the bait.

“I hate you.”

Hazel’s eyes widened as she extricated herself from the cord wrapped around her shoulders.

I covered the mouthpiece again and looked down at her. “Not you. My sister. But maybe also a little you.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed the phone cord over my head.

“Yeah, right. That’s why you’re taking the closing shift at my store after you put in a full day of work on your own shit,” Laura said airily in my ear.

“I’m just doing it to make you feel guilty,” I insisted.

“You may be all prickly on the outside, but I know you, Cam. You’re just a big ol’ squishy teddy bear of family loyalty on the inside.”

“Don’t be weird,” I grumbled as Hazel and Zoey tried to figure out the credit card reader.

“Thanks, Cammy. Now stop being an asshole to the woman who wrote three of the books in my top ten and is just trying to give our family money.”

I watched Hazel break out into a hip-bumping victory dance when the reader spit out a receipt. “I’m not promising anything.”

Laura groaned. “Never change, Cammy.”

“Stop bothering me. I’ll see you when I drop Melvin off.”

“Teddy bear,” she said again before hanging up.

I returned the phone to the cradle on the wall and turned to find two women looking proudly over their eight bags of supplies.

“Told you I could do it faster than you,” Zoey said archly.

“You really should take a few keypad lessons if you’re going to keep working here,” Hazel said, crossing her arms smugly.

“Okay, smartasses. How are you getting all of this home?”

The two women looked at each other.

“Shit,” Hazel said.

“Thanks again for the ride…again,” Hazel said as we pulled up in front of Heart House for the second time that day.

“Thanks for making the interior of my truck smell like a winery explosion.”

“You already knew about the wine smell before you offered us the ride, so if you’re waiting for an apology, you can keep waiting,” she said, hugging a bag of Cheez-Its and soda to her chest.

I got out from behind the wheel and started looping bags over my arms.

“Bet he can’t carry them all,” Zoey taunted, sliding out of the back seat.

“I know you’re baiting me. But it’s more of a priority to get you out of my life for the rest of my night,” I said as Hazel made a grab for the last bag. “Go open the damn door.”

I stomped up the walk and onto the porch behind Hazel in the pitch dark under the weight of their shopping haul. The house had no working exterior lights, which was a safety hazard and something I would remedy tomorrow whether or not she accepted my company’s proposal.

To prove my point, Zoey tripped on the steps behind me.

“You okay, Zo?” Hazel asked as she unlocked the front door.

“I’m fine. The bread broke my fall.”

“At least it wasn’t the wine.” Hazel rammed her shoulder into the door. It budged barely an inch.

“Move,” I ordered. One well-placed boot to the door had it flying open.

“That was kinda hot. Were you taking notes?” Zoey asked Hazel.

“Where do you want this?” I said.

Hazel frowned. “Uh, kitchen, I guess?”

I lugged the bags down the hall to the back of the house and not so gently placed everything on the floor. “There. Goodbye.”

“Thanks, Muscles,” Zoey said as she shoved perishables into the ancient fridge. “Now if you’ll just remind us where these restaurants are in town, we’ll allow you to leave.”

“You just bought four hundred bucks’ worth of food.”

They both stared at me like I’d sprouted a unicorn horn at my hairline.

“What’s your point?” Hazel asked, as she pulled the boxed oatmeal out of the fridge and put it back on the counter.

“You bought food. So make that food and eat it,” I said.

The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Ah, good one, Cam. You’re hilarious,” Zoey said.

“No. I’m not. I’m logical.”

“You can’t just go grocery shopping and then make a bunch of the food,” Hazel said as if it were an explanation.

“I already regret asking this. But why the hell not?”

“Because we hunted and we gathered and now we deserve a meal cooked and cleaned up after by someone else,” she said.

“Duh,” Zoey added.

“Sooo where’s the restaurant?” Hazel asked, snapping her fingers.

“On the other side of town.”

“How far is that in city blocks?” Zoey asked.

“How the hell should I know? But it’s too far to walk in the dark.”

It wasn’t for an actual citizen who was used to our uneven sidewalks and occasional loose dogs. And it wasn’t like Story Lake had a reputation for crime. But they were new here and used to streetlights and car services. I could only imagine the trouble they would get into if they tried to walk the five blocks.

“Then we’ll call a Lyft,” Hazel said, reaching for her phone.

“Where do you think you are?”

“I don’t know? Civilization ?” she said, finally sounding irritated.

“Well, think again,” I said.

“Haze, the place is called Angelo’s, and it’s not even six blocks from here,” Zoey reported from her phone screen.

Hazel scoffed at me. “You people can’t handle walking six blocks? I once jogged fifteen blocks in Jimmy Choos during rush hour. Let’s go get some dinner, Zo.”

I rubbed my hands over my eyes and tried not to imagine Hazel’s first encounter with Emilie’s free-range pet pig in the dark. Hazel would probably attempt to murder yet another town fixture before she even made it to the restaurant.

I let out a tortured groan and dropped my hands. “I will drive you to the restaurant. You will not speak. You will get out, go inside, and leave me alone for the rest of the night. You will find your own way home without getting injured or causing injury.”

“Yes sir, Captain Pouty Man Bear,” Hazel said with a smart salute.

“Get in the damn truck.”