Page 11 of Piece Of Me

Taz Pullman was dangerous. Lethal even. The kind of guy a smart lady would stay away from which is why she should be headed in the opposite direction.

Yet here I am, she thought. She hesitated for exactly one second, supposing time would determine if she was about to make a big mistake.

And then followed Taz into his backyard.

CHAPTER 4

“Who’s that?”

Taz was busy flipping burgers and didn’t bother to look up. Who knew that throwing a birthday party for his four-year-old twins would be so much work; and that was with help. “Mom, I’m kinda busy.”

“The woman with purple in her hair.”

She wasn’t going to let this go. He paused and followed his mother’s gaze until it landed on the one person who had done her very best to avoid him the entire time she’d been at his place.

“I’ve never seen her before,” Martha continued.

With a sigh he glanced to his mother. “Why do you care?” He kept his voice light, but in truth he didn’t want to go down this road with her. He didn’t want to hear about all the wrong things…even if all the wrong things were spot on.

“Why are you so darn prickly?”

He turned down the heat on his grill and reached for the cold beer his mother had brought him not more than a minute earlier. This was a losing battle, and he knew it, so Taz took a beat. He shrugged and brought the bottle to his mouth, taking a long swig to avoid the talking part as long as he could.

“Her name is Scarlett,” he eventually said.

His mother’s eyebrow shot up at that. “As in Bridgestone?”

Great. She’d done her homework.

“Yup.”

“Huh.” Martha Pullman leaned against the table set up beside his grill. “Is she the Bridgestone who paraded around town in nothing but a nightshirt?”

“She’d be that Bridgestone.” He flashed a smile at the thought. “I was lucky enough to witness it.”

“Did you now.”

“It was something to see.”

“Mary Margaret says she’s crazy.”

“You know better than to listen to anything that woman says.”

“I do.” Martha looked at him questioningly. “But why is she here?”

“I asked her to come.” The look on his mother’s face made him stop. “No,” he replied, shaking his head, “it’s not like that.” God, now she was going to over analyze every little thing.

“Well, what’s it like exactly?”

“She’s having a hard time is all.” He looked his mother straight in the eye so there was no room for interpretation. “That’s according to Millie Sue. I thought it would be good for her to get out and socialize so I told Mills to bring her.”

“Huh.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Exasperated he grabbed the bag of buns off of the table.

“I’m just wondering why you’re being so nice to a woman you only just met.”

“I didn’t know it was a crime to be nice.”

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