Chapter 6 Lucy
That meddling wench. Mawmaw gave him my melt, the one I only make for myself, or Briar. Storming into the kitchen, I find her leaned against the prep table, arms crossed with a brow raised.
“Why would you make him that?” I ask, forgoing the initial stare off I know I can’t win. She shakes her head with a slight laugh.
“He wanted what you’d recommend,” she shrugs, as if that’s all. I’d never recommend my melt, not to him anyway.
Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms and level her with a look.
Pushing off the table, she walks past me swatting my ass on her way out. “Get to work lazy bones!”
Shaking my head, our cook drops more fries in the frier startling me into moving. The silver door between the kitchen and front swings wide as Sydney carries in a tray full of trash, dumping it into the large trash can we use.
His card.
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks, I still have his card in my purse. Rushing toward the back where I stash my stuff, I riffle through the bag to find the card I never charged. I was so enamoured by him, his presence alone was enough to make me lose my marbles.
But I have a pretty clear picture of his presence, and the convenient way he keeps popping up wherever I am. I need to get out of here as soon as possible. I can’t do that if I still have his fucking credit card.
“Lucy!” Mawmaw shouts from somewhere in the kitchen, prompting me to whip my head up and bang it against the open locker door.
“Ow!” I shout, “Fuck.”
That hurt.
Rubbing the place where I hit my head, my fingers come away red and my knees threaten to give way.
Fuck, this can’t be happening, I should get Mawmaw.
I hate blood, just the thought makes me…
. Woozy. Shuffling my feet through the kitchen, our cook notices the blood and hollers, but I can’t make out his words, my ears are filled with cotton, no sounds register as my vision swims as I push through the silver doors.
Warm hands wrap around my upper arms, keeping me upright. My jaw works, but I can’t hear anything, and my voice isn’t working. A cold wet cloth burns against the cut on my head as my hands are swatted away.
“Lord,” I think I hear Mawmaw say as my vision swims into focus and her cotton dress comes into view.
“Mawmaw,” I croak, hissing out another breath as peroxide bubbles on the injury. “I’m bleeding.”
She laughs, along with a deeper chuckle that I immediately recognize. Whipping my head to the side, I wobble and the warm hands steady me—again.
“Head wounds bleed more than most, even superficial ones,” Reese says, eyeing me like a doctor might.
Lifting my arms is a chore, and I wish more than anything that I could push him away. I’m not dying, only bumped my head, I’m fine.
Another chuckle falls from his perfectly pale pink lips and I try to push him away. He doesn’t know me, and he shouldn’t be back here.
“By all means,” his hands fall away and I rock back and forth, nearly crashing to the floor. “But what kinda man would I be lettin’ a pretty thing like you bleed out in her own diner?”
I know I didn’t just say all that out loud… I hope.
Everything’s starting to become clearer, as bodies surround the stool I’m occupying. The cook’s face is sheepish, as if he knows how annoyed I’ll be when I realize I walked to the front of the restaurant, and everybody’s staring at me.
“I’m fine,” I start just as Mawmaw presses another pad of peroxide on my wound. Squinting my eyes I try to move away from the hands holding me up. “I can take it from here.”
“No, you don’t,” Mawmaw says, wagging her finger in front of my face. “You just about lost your head over the sight’a a little blood, you’re not goin’ anywhere until Spencer gets here.”
With a sigh, I close my eyes and say a little prayer that I’ve fallen into a weird little rabbit hole and found myself in a near identical reality. Unfortunately for me, the gruff voice of the one person I should have no interest in whispers near my cheek.
“Don’t be stubborn, Goldie, I only want to help.”
My eyes crack open and damn him, he doesn’t give me the ick that would normally come from a man whispering in my face. His dark blue eyes make my stomach pinch and they shouldn’t, they really, really shouldn’t.
He’s Levi’s brother for God’s sake, and too old for me. I hardly knew he existed since he never visited, yet here he is, calling me Goldie and saying things that should turn my stomach sour.
Instead he’s comforting, and charming.
Two things I know first hand can be deceiving.
Especially from Walker men.
The bell over the door signals Spencer’s arrival, and soon Reese is standing up turning toward him, extending his hand.
“Reese Walker,” he says, gripping my brother’s hand and continuing, “she hit her head, the bleedin’s stopped for now, but to be safe, someone should probably observe her tonight.”
Spencer nods with one popped brow, “Thanks.”
Reese steps aside allowing Spencer space to walk toward me, they’re both large men, where Spencer has a belly that usually hangs over his coveralls, Reese’s is flatter, though not entirely.
“Really Loo?” he smirks, shaking his head. “I guess you’re lucky there was a doctor here.”
A rumbled laugh escapes Reese and the two of us look his way. “I’m not a doctor,” rubbing a hand over his beard he looks back to the table currently watching our exchange. “But I’ve seen my fair share of medics out in the arena, and behind the scenes.”
Spencer’s face morphs into a knowing smirk, “Ah, The Reese Walker, five time world bull riding champion,” he scoffs, more to himself than anything, “I shoulda known.”
“Retirement’s been kind to me,” Reese chuckles, turning around to walk to his family, but he stops just shy of the table and turns back around. “I’ll come back for my card another time, Goldie.”
With a wink, he turns back to his family and Spencer raises a brow.
“No comment,” I mumble, getting to my feet. Spencer slings an arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the diner. “This seems excessive.”
He only shakes his head, steering me toward his truck where Heath’s singing at the top of his lungs with the windows rolled down. I can’t help but laugh as he sings along to one of the pop songs blaring through the speakers.
“There’s our damsel!” He declares, popping open the door and hopping down to open the back door.
“I’m not a damsel,” I scoff, “and you’re hardly a prince.”
“Ouch,” he says, smirking at Spence. “I think I’d make a fine prince, huh Daddy?”
Spencer scoffs and grinds out a quick, “You’re more likely to be the damsel, Cowboy.”
“You’re not wrong, but I am still offended.”
We laugh and they help me get in, before hopping in themselves and Spencer turns the truck out of the diner lot.
Instead of dropping me off at the house I share with Mawmaw, he heads to the house he shares with Heath and Briar.
It’s more like a cabin, with two rooms, a small kitchen and living room.
But they love it, and Briar’s not gonna be home much since she’ll be going off to college next year.
The thought alone makes my heart hurt, she’s gotten so grown up it’s almost not fair. When Spencer parks, Briar skips down the stairs to meet me at the truck.
“You alright, Aunt Loo?” She sing-songs, looking back to the porch where Colt’s sitting. My lips tip up and I nod, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and giggling into her hair.
“I’m fine, Flower.” Nodding to the porch, she rolls her eyes and shrugs me off. “Just a little bump on the noggin’, I can head home–”
“No way, we just made dinner! Plus Spencer told me we’re supposed to keep an eye on you tonight, and I know how to follow directions.” Heath hollers from the door. “Come on.”
Spencer only smiles from the bottom of the stairs as Briar and Colt make their way into the house. Following them in, Heath slides open the back door to the patio where I can smell the sweet scent of smoked barbecue.
My stomach growls and Heath smirks my way, holding out a plate piled with meat, slaw, beans, and a roll. “Now, tell us about this stud.”