Page 18 of Love Finds Home

“Yeah, thanks.” I stand up from my slouch against the wall, bend over to pick up my discarded clothes, making sure he gets a good view of my ass, and walk to the bathroom.

It’s while I’m rinsing out the towel that I hear the door close in the main room. I don’t think anything of it, but when I come out of the bathroom, the place is empty. Ranger is gone. There’s a note on the kitchen counter, his scrawl letting me know my fate.

Rent is $600.00 a month. I’ll leave the key with Barbie downstairs if you want it and text you everything you need later. –J. Cross

Well, not even a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, to be had. Just the wham and bam. Probably for the best, right? He doesn’t like me, and I sure as shit don’t like him. Fuck him. And at this price? I’ll gladly take the space and never talk to him.

Time to get to work. I’ve got a studio to set up.

Chapter 6

Ranger

Fuck me, I reallydid that, didn’t I? I wanted her and I took her. Against a damn wall. And then I left. A fucking pump and dump if there ever was one. Got the hell out of there so fast, I’m surprised I didn’t burn the stairs down on my retreat. Threw the key at Barbie and told her I had to leave on an emergency tip.

The way she eyeballed me totally called me on my bullshit, but I didn’t stick around long enough to hear it from her. I ran. Ran to my truck, ran away from my shop, from my safe place. Not only that, but I left a note. Like a little bitch. Who am I? I never thought of myself as a coward, but I just proved I was the biggest there is, didn’t I?

Now I’m driving around town aimlessly. If I were a real man, I’d turn the truck around and go back. But there is something about that woman that drives me up a wall. I want to spank her. And kiss her. Or kiss her and then spank her. But, after what I just did, I mostly want to tie her to a bed naked and not let herleave my sight. Yeah, that makes me a sick fucker, doesn’t it? But the thought of her tied up and at my mercy? My cock is getting hard just thinking about it.

I have to avoid her at all costs. I will never let a woman fuck with my heart and head again. And I have a feeling that Elle Workman is a professional in that department. So I continue to drive around, her apples and crème scent still surrounding me, which is not helping with the boner situation at all, until it’s time to set up for the evening’s stakeout. I stay away from the shop, and the only text I receive from Elle is short and sweet.

Elle: Talked to Barbie, left a check and took the key. She showed me how to load my info into the back door. Good to go.

Guess that answers that. Maybe we got it out of our systems and can be human to each other. Right? That’s a thing that can happen, isn’t it? Yeah, fuck you, too. Let me lie to myself, okay?

I’m still debating with myself when the tracker app on my phone goes off, letting me know my mark is on the move. Pushing all thoughts of Elle to the back of my mind, I focus on what I need to do. And that is keeping my friends—my family—safe.

Pulling a U-turn and heading back toward town and the interstate that goes through the mountains, I follow the dot on the screen, already knowing where it’s leading me. It’s the same place each time. Some Mexican place off the highway in Rock Hill. Every. Fucking. Time.

I pull into the lot in time to see Keith get out of his car and walk to the door. He doesn’t look around, nor does he talk to anyone. I pull up the camera app on my phone and take a few pictures, just like always. Then I sit back and wait. I know it’s going to beten minutes before the mystery woman joins him. I pull on the long sleeve denim shirt I keep in the back of the truck and put it on, along with the cowboy hat and glasses I keep in the box on the floor for just this occasion. My last move is the mustache. I’ll curse myself later tonight when I’m trying to get the glue off my face, but I don’t want to risk the slimeball recognizing me.

Previous nights, I’ve gone in after the woman shows up. I don’t know who she is, and so far, I haven’t been able to find out any information. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Image searches and facial recognition programs have been no help so far, and I haven’t been able to get close enough to hear their conversation. Maybe tonight will change that. I’m feeling ballsy after today, my adrenaline still pumping through my system, Elle’s scent still invading my nose.

Tonight, I get out of the truck at the same time the woman exits her car. She drives a small black Honda, nothing remarkable. Nothing to make her stand out. Is he having an affair with her? Hell if I know. I haven’t been able to catch them in a compromising situation if so. Besides, she doesn’t look like a hooker and I’ve never seen them touch each other. I know he’s dating Ginny, and I guess she’s convinced herself he’s the one, but fuck, she could do so much better.

The woman is wearing a simple black suit, again nothing remarkable about her. She’s classically pretty, I guess, but I would walk right past her and not look twice. Her hair, long and straight, hangs down her back. Her makeup is neutral, nothing to highlight herself. She could disappear into a crowd and get lost in the masses easily. And that’s what has my Spidey-senses going off. Like she’s purposely making herself plain. Who is this woman?

I follow her into the restaurant, taking notice of everyone in the place. It’s mostly empty tonight, and it looks like the staff have already started shutting down the back half, which is goodnews for me. It means it won’t look too odd for me to sit closer to them than I usually would. Maybe I’ll be able to hear the conversation between them tonight.

I sit two booths away with my back to them, leaving an empty one between us. I place my drink and food order with the server and pull my phone out. I’m mindlessly scrolling, looking like I’m busy, but all of my attention is on the booth behind me.

“Why did you need to meet tonight?” the woman asks, sounding put out. Is that an accent? I can’t place it.

“I needed to know if everything was still a go,” Keith responds.

“Of course it is. You question me?”

“No, no, I’m not questioning you. There’s shit going down at home and I need to make sure we’re still okay.”

“Do I need to worry about the ‘shit’ you have going on?”

I can feel her finger quotes, and I almost laugh.

“Nah, I’m not involved in that. Virginia’s friends are. Of course.”

I can feel his eye roll at that. Fucker is asking to be punched, I swear.

“What are your plans with that, Mr. Brown? Do you plan to follow through with marrying her?”

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