3. Kat
Chapter 3
Kat
T he hardest part about the court appearance is keeping my mouth shut. Jefferson Cross had been surprised as hell to see me walk through the door. After a brief consult, his lawyer asked for a recess. The judge had not been impressed, especially since just before I walked in, the opposing council had made a motion for the case to be found in their favor since I was a no-show.
I had bitten my tongue to let them flounder and piss off the judge a little more. Then, I presented my case, which consisted of the original posting for the Camp Sunny-Lu campground property on three different real estate websites, our offer to purchase made through Sunny-Lu Inc’s licenced real estate agent, and the acceptance of the offer from the Crosses’ lawyer. It didn’t get much clearer than that, especially when Jefferson’s entire argument was that we personally strong-armed his parents into selling when the property had been up for sale for a month before we put in our offer.
After the judge finds in our favor, I step into the hall and linger beside a security guard. Jefferson comes out angry as hell and arguing with his lawyer. If looks could kill, I’d be bleeding out on the marble floor, but he’s exhausted all his legal avenues. Sunny-Lu Incorporated is the undisputed owners of the former Camp Sunny-Lu campground and the soon-to-be-launched Sunny-Lu Salon and Spa.
I can’t wait to get our new business venture off the ground and earning money. The four of us—Violet Glass, Romy Turner, Rhiannon Quill and me—have been planning it for months, and we’re coming up on the grand opening. Phase one – the Sunny-Lu Salon and Spa – is all Romy’s baby. My buy-in reason will come to fruition in phase two when Sunny-Lu Hall gets rolling.
Violet had been living the dream when her husband of three years died in a training accident. She hadn’t known how to change the furnace filter or where any of the important paperwork had been; that had been her husband’s domain. Vi swore that she’d never be that helpless again. The rest of us realized that we weren’t that different, and had vowed to help her and ourselves learn the stuff every woman should know.
The hall is where we will be able to teach others what we have taught ourselves. The real money will come from renting it out to bridal parties with the intention of sending them on to the salon and spa where Romy can take care of them. But in the off hours, we’ll be holding community classes there, so no other women ever feel as useless as we did. I’m hoping we can get those started sometime early in the new year.
For right now, I have two new things on my to-do list: find a way back to my abandoned car, and make sure the biker I kidnapped isn’t taking it personally. To do the first, I have to make the call I’ve been putting off.
At Minot County Courthouse. Hearing went our way (told you so) but need a lift.
What happened to your car?
Had to leave it at a gas station. Hoofed it by alternate means.
Liar. One of JD’s biker bros called and told us what happened. You okay?
I send her a smiley-face emoji. She is the only person who could make me smile right now, although Rhiannon can’t do anything for my headache. It seems nothing can. My skull still hurts from when I bounced it on the window. The painkillers in my purse barely put a dent in it. I have a bad feeling that dragging the Lost Souls into our fight with Jefferson Cross is only going to make things worse, but since I’m alive to complain about it, I try to push past the pain.
I’ll bet. JD arranged a ride back to your car. Says Wylie’s a good guy. JD also says to be very clear what you’re willing to do because those LS boys don’t fuck around. Call when you’re home.
That is two problems down. I’m fine with doing a favor for a shit-hot biker who hadn’t had me arrested on sight. As long as it isn’t illegal and won’t drag me in front of the state bar’s ethics committee, I owe Wylie huge. I’ll even be happy to get a little creative with my payback considering the guy literally saved my ass.
I slow when I walk down the front steps. I see Wylie in a loud discussion with Jefferson. The little shit-stain who has been causing us all kinds of grief isn’t backing down. We can’t afford to have him get the Lost Souls on his side. He shoots me the finger and takes off.
I approach Wylie, and he doesn’t look mad. It’s the first time I’ve had a good look at all of him. JD mentioned that most of his club brothers were former military, and Wylie looks like he still does calisthenics every morning. The dark hair brushing his collar isn’t regulation, thank God. The leather and jeans are doing enough for me. If I saw him in a proper uniform, I might spontaneously combust. “Hi, again.”
“I hear you won.”
“It was never in question.” I peer around him and see a crushed fender and broken headlight. “Sorry again about your van. How’s the other side?”
“Worse,” Wylie says. “The good news is that it’s all fixable. The better news is that it isn’t my van. It actually belongs to Bishop.”
“Fuck. Now he’s got another reason to hate me,” I mutter.
“What’s the first reason?”
“He thinks I’m a bad influence on his girlfriend.”
“Are you?”
“It’s usually her idea. I just provide the bail money,” I joke. Mostly. I touch my head and feel the heat radiating from the swelling. “Rhiannon says you’re my ride back to my car, if it’s still there?”
Wylie steps forward, a frown on his face. “Do you need to see a doctor?” He reaches out and a calloused thumb brushes a curl away from my temple. His cool skin calms the throbbing.
“I checked my pupils. They aren’t blown, so I don’t have a concussion. I just need a quiet place for a while, so the headache meds have a chance to kick in. It’s been an exciting morning.” Honestly, I’m about to fall down but since there is nobody to catch me if I do, I have to power through.
“I was going to suggest you cook me dinner tonight as a thank you, but how about we get you back to your car and I follow you home. We’ll set something up for tomorrow.”
I sigh in relief. “I would really appreciate that. Plus, it’ll give me time to get to the grocery store. Are you a vegetarian?”
“Fuck, no.” He looks at me in concern. “Are you?”
“Fuck no, although I can cook that way. I’m all about the meat.” I’m the last of my girls to be single, and my bed has been noticeably cold during these autumn nights. I’ll happily take a bit of company, especially somebody who comes pre-vetted from people I trust.
"I'll keep that in mind.”