Chapter 4 #2
“Your name.” I return to the forms, wanting to get out of here sometime tonight.
“Sarah Atwater, and that’s Sarah with an ‘h.’”
I get her phone number and then her address.
“237 North Edgewood.”
I stop typing, glancing up from the keyboard under the bill of my cap. She twists to check on the kids, patiently waiting as my reserve dips a little lower.
“Excuse me.” I must not have heard her right.
The door opens and closes, and Carson strolls in.
“Hey, sorry. That took longer than . . .” He stops, his eyes transfixed on Sarah’s, but only for a second before he catches himself and surveys the rest of our after-hours guests.
He nods at the kid. “I’ll toss dinner in the back. ” He holds up a brown paper sack.
Sarah’s attention returns to me.
“Come again,” I ask, needing her to repeat herself to be sure I heard what I thought I heard.
She repeats her address, and I see Carson’s steps falter as he passes, some kind of noise coming from his throat.
My fingers stiffen as I try to type, jabbing the keys like a gorilla.
The door opens again, and in steps Katrina Dunn, a woman ready to bust any man’s balls at her whim. If only the rest of the guys were here.
“I made it.” She runs a hand over her long, wavy black hair. “Those imbeciles took three hours to argue over who gets the prize-winning dog sperm.”
The woman I now know as Sarah and I look at her.
She waves a hand. “It’s a long story. I’ll spare you the brain-infecting details.” She eyes me, one hand moving to her hip. “Slade, it’s been a while. How’s Krissy?”
I hired Kat when I took guardianship of Krissy.
“She’s good. Working at the hospital and still making me want to lose my shii . . .” I glance at the boy behind Sarah. “Mind.”
Kat grins. “Attagirl. She and I should get drinks. You tell her to call me.”
I nod. I will absolutely not help arrange that.
Krissy doesn’t need any assistance in driving me to an early grave.
On one hand, I’m proud of her independence and ability to speak her mind.
On the other hand, I’m pretty sure she’s determined to pay me back for every strict rule by making it her adult mission to bulldoze each one with flair.
I hear boots behind me announcing Carson’s return.
“Who are you?” Kat’s gaze shifts to over my shoulder.
Carson removes his backward cap, holding it to his chest. “I’m Carson, ma’am.” He leans against the counter. “Here to help Slade not fall into something he can’t handle.” The ass grins, his pearly whites shining against his tan skin.
I will punch it right off his face as soon as we’re alone.
Sarah peeks over her shoulder at her kids while one of Kat’s thin, dark eyebrows perks.
Thankfully, rather than taking the bait, she spins, her trench coat fanning out around her.
“Crackerjack! I didn’t see you back there.” She moves toward the little boy.
“I’m not J-j-jack.” He grins.
Both of her hands jet out to the sides. “No?” she feigns surprise.
“I’m Owiver.”
Kat slaps a hand over her forehead. “Are you sure you’re Oliver? You seem pretty smart and excellent to me.” His dangling legs swing as he smiles. “Are you ready for our date?”
He nods and hops off the chair. “I thought we’d let your mom and sister tag along, too. You’re a little young to be out late on your own, Jack.”
He giggles, taking her extended hand.
Sarah cuts in. “I need to get the seats from my car.”
“I’ll help.” Carson jumps on his white horse and charges toward the door. He glances back at me with that smirk as if he’s confiscated a secret he’ll use to his advantage until the end of time.
“Now, you’re not one of those guys with low self-esteem who won’t let a woman buy his Happy Meal, are you?
” Kat asks Oliver. “Because I’m not sure this will work if you are.
” She leads him to the door, and Carson holds it open.
“Look, Jack! Contrary to all evidence, chivalry hasn’t kicked the bucket for all eternity. ”
The door bangs closed, and a wail erupts behind Sarah.
She turns, scooping up the carrier, and links it over her arm. “Shhh. It’s ok.” She puts her hand over the tiny girl’s belly, then her focus returns to me.
I grab the forms off the printer. “I need a signature.” I bypass the credit card information to avoid any further skepticism .
She pulls a pen from the tin can, twisting back and forth to keep the baby calm. “So, you’ll call me as soon as you know something?”
I look at her. We’ve seriously been through this. What the hell? “Yes.”
“And you’ll not do or order anything without my consent?”
I straighten, crossing my arms over my chest. “Would you like a report notarized and delivered by a courier?”
Her eyes drift toward the ceiling as if she’s contemplating it. “Is that an option you offer here?”
“Look, this is my business, and I don’t run it by screwing people over. I will perform an inspection and let you know exactly what I find. If you want a second opinion, feel free.”
The door opens, and Carson steps back in.
“You’re all set.” He smiles.
Sarah’s peculiar eyes hit mine, her lips moving to the side, and the fact that she remains unaffected by this conversation makes my skin prickle and shrink two sizes.
She waves a hand. “That won’t be necessary, but if the quote could come without the sprinkles of bitterness, that would be fantastic.” She rolls her lips as her hair falls from behind her ear, but it’s unable to mask her pure enjoyment of picking at my calloused layers.
This is where wanting to punch myself comes into play.
I knew I should have sent her to a dealer, but no.
My big mouth said I’d help, and now I’m stuck with whatever is happening that makes me want to peel off my skin to release the swell of foreign discomfort this woman is happily stirring within me.
Carson sniffs, and I know his dumbass is relishing this entire thing.
Her hand jets out, her key ring dangling from her finger. “Thank you, Mufasa. I look forward to hearing what you find.” She bites the corner of her lip, and my jaw clenches.
“You want help.” Carson jumps in, offering a hand to take the baby carrier .
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” She scans the chairs to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything. Carson holds the door open, and she disappears into the darkening night.
“Aren’t you just Mr. Helpful?” I grumble.
Carson grins. “Southern charm, man. It’s how we’re bred. You’ve got a little in there. Especially when it comes to single moms.” He pats me on the chest as he takes her keys from me.
Of course he’d note the absence of a ring. I’ll be damned if I’ll admit I’d already noticed.
“It’s just difficult to see underneath the bitterness, Mufasa.” He laughs as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
I press the button to open one of the garage doors extra hard.
“And she lives across the street from you.” He chuckles, covering his mouth with his fist. “I hope I’m there when she realizes it.”
I’m going to have to move.
He pushes away from the counter. “I think you may have just met your match.” He points at me. “Plus, she’s a lawyer. You better guard your balls, man.” He laughs harder.
“How about you shut the hell up and see if you can pull it onto the lift the first time. I don’t want to be here all night.”
He strolls toward the door. “You know, in the south, it’s proper manners to welcome our neighbors with baked cookies or something.”
The only thing I’m baking is his ass if he doesn’t shut his mouth. “I’m not making any cookies or welcoming anyone. Up here, we mind our own damn business.”
He snorts. “Go ahead and tell yourself that, bro. I can’t wait to tell the guys.”
I want to ram my head into a wall. Maybe I’ll get amnesia, and this will all disappear.
I need this job to be over as soon as possible. Next time, the import is going to the dealer, where I don’t have to deal with incessant sass and listen to the guys’ constant shit-giving.
I sure as hell won’t make even close to enough for this.