Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Between helpin' out around Wild Acre, traveling around to care for the county's horses, and a few shifts at the store, I was lucky to get one good day off each week.
And lately, those days had just been more work.
Every penny I'd saved had gone into buyin' this piece of shit house, and now every dollar I earned went into turnin' it from a piece of shit into a piece of crap.
I'd traded days off with Sassy and Rhett—her music too loud, him talkin' shit, me grinnin' through it—for a house bought for someone who never even saw it.
Didn't even ask if she wanted it.
Thought I was bein' romantic.
TBH, that one's on me.
"Mother fuck!" The hammer clattered to the floor as I stuck my thumb in my mouth.
'Cause that's likely to help. I spun on my heel, knocking over a box of nails when I beelined for my cooler.
Before I shoved my hand in to cool the sting, I popped the top on a beer.
Sure, it was only eleven in the mornin'.
Didn't seem to matter much these days. Jimmy Buffett, God rest his soul, said it best—it's five o'clock somewhere.
I planted my boots and my ass flat on the floor of what would, some day, look somethin' like a kitchen.
Maybe.
If I stopped hammerin' my thumb.
Right now, it looked like a kindergarten project.
"Build a box out of toothpicks, Brody." I mimicked ol' Mrs. Potter's scratchy voice best I could. Felt like I nailed it, given she was my teacher some twenty-plus years ago.
Whatever.
It'd be an island soon.
A nice big one.
Seats for a few kids… whole damn family.
Whole family I wasn't so sure I'd have anymore.
"You made the right choice," I told myself for the hundredth time. Had to believe that.
Just then, a bunch of the nails that had scattered across the floor suddenly flew in six different directions. I let out a yelp and leapt to my feet.
"Jesus Christ!"
Beer sluiced down my arm. At least I hadn't dropped it.
I whipped my head back and forth until I spotted the source of the commotion.
It was a cat.
In my house.
Just sitting there.
Starin' at me.
Unblinking.
Unimpressed.
"I wasn't scared."
Still nothin'.
"Anyone woulda reacted like that."
The tiny black cat lifted a paw and started lickin' itself. Gross.
"You payin' rent?"
Nothin'.
"Didn't think so." I flicked my un-beered hand toward the doorway. "Shoo. Git."
The furball neither shooed nor got.
In fact, the little shit started circlin' my legs, brushin' up against me, spine archin' in a way that looked downright uncomfortable.
"Can I help you with somethin'?"
The cat let out a single, offended meow.
"Oh, now you talk."
It wound around me again like it owned the damn place.
I nudged it toward the door. It didn't budge.
"Suit yourself."
I propped the back door open a few inches—plenty of room for a freeloadin' cat to make its own decisions—and headed out.
When I turned into the alley that led up to my apartment behind The BP, I ran smack-dab into Sassy.
She bounced off my chest with a soft oof.
"Shit, sorry," I said. Instinct had my hands on her shoulders before her ass could meet the ground.
She slipped out of my grip fast. Too fast. Like touchin' me might leave a mark.
"You just get off work?" I asked, noddin' toward the door across the way.
For years Sassy had been workin' at the boutique in town, puttin' herself through school. Late nights. Early mornings. Textbooks spread across our coffee table. It'd been a long, slow road. But she was determined. Always had been.
"I—yeah." She shifted her keys between her fingers. Didn't look at me. "Look, I can't stand around and chit chat."
I huffed a laugh. "Right. Long drive back home to Rhett's."
The second the words left my mouth, I knew I'd stepped in it.
Her head snapped up. "Are you for real right now, Brody Lancaster?"
Full government name. Fantastic.
"Fuck, no." I dragged a hand down my face. "I'm sorry. I just… I hurt my thumb. I'm grumpy."
She stared at me. "You hurt your thumb… That the excuse you're stickin' to?"
"Well, yeah," I held it up for her to see the blood blister under my nail. She didn't seem impressed.
I glanced at her car. At the apartment door above the bar. At the life I'd detonated. "Look," I pushed on, because apparently diggin' holes was my cardio now, "you can stay in the apartment if it's easier for you. I didn't mean to make you homeless. I can stay at my house or with my mo—"
"Your house?" She let out a sharp laugh that didn't carry an ounce of humor. "Dang, ditch your girl, buy a house, fuck a stranger. Whole new you, huh?"
That one landed square in the ribs. I was an asshole.
"Goddamn, can I please say one fucking thing right?"
"Apparently not."
I blew out a breath and stared past her at the gravel parking lot at the end of the alley, because lookin' at her right here, right now felt like pressin' on a bruise.
"The house was for you."
The wind kicked up a little dust between us. She blinked like she hadn't heard me right.
"You bought me a house."
"Yeah."
She searched my face for a joke. Didn't find one.
"Then called it all off days before our wedding."
"Well… yeah." I forced myself to look at her. "You deserve more than what we had. And I think you'll find it right under your stubborn nose."
I'd known her long enough to be a master in the art of Sassy Expressions. And the tired, frustrated one she'd been wearin' since I nearly knocked her on her ass turned into something a little bit more murderous.
And I was man enough to admit that I was kinda afraid.
"You don't get to decide what's best for me," she snapped, jabbing a finger into my chest. Ouch. "I make that call. Who the hell do you think you are?"
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Didn't have a damn answer that didn't make me sound like an asshole.
With a final sneer, she sidestepped me and hustled to her car. Gravel popped under her tires when she peeled out of the lot.
I stood there a second longer than necessary, thumb throbbing, pride throbbing worse.
Welp, that went well.