Page 14 of Love Finds Home

“Ah, yeah, thanks again for fixing her up.”

“No problem. When’s Evan and Charlie due in?”

“After lunch. They have the late shift. Think Evan has someone coming in from Baltimore for a late-night session.”

I nod while I get my supplies ready for the day, but my mind keeps wandering back to the text exchange this morning with the group and Elle. How she gets me so riled up so fast. How I felt a stirring below the belt that I haven’t felt in a while. The way her eyes haunt me. I need to find a way to shut that shit down. Fast.

Time to focus and get ready for my day. I will not let her derail my life.

Barbie’s friend was in my chair for a little over two hours before she needed to call it a day. She’ll come back in a couple of weeks for me to finish the shading on her new design. Flowers to cover the ‘What happens in Daytona, Stays in Daytona…except herpes’she has stamped on her right shoulder. She lost a bet when she was nineteen and that was the outcome. Why it took her ten plus years to fix it, I’m not sure. Not my problem. I’m just here to make it go away.

We’ve just finished lunch from the Diner and I’m cleaning up my station when the bells over the door jingle. I don’t pay it much attention until I hear Barbie squeal. She doesn’t get riled up like that too often, so I’m interested. I step out of my stationand immediately wish I hadn’t. But I’m also very confused. Barbie is hugging Elle like she’s a long-lost family member. Her pink-tipped hair is pulled back in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing baggy jeans with paint flecks on them and a red tank-top. She’s got an oversized black cardigan on over the tank that hits at her knees, but the sleeve on her right shoulder is falling down, exposing something I never thought someone as high society as her would have. Ink.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, and even I can hear the asshole in my voice.

“It’s so good to see you, too!” she exclaims with a huge grin on her face. “I just knew you’d be so excited to see me!”

“You know Ranger?” Barbie asks her.

“You know Barbie?” I ask at the same time.

“Yup!” she answers both of us. That smile is still plastered on her face, and I’m not sure if I want to kiss it off or yell at her until it falls.

“How do you know Barbie?” I growl, frustrated at both of them.

“Asshole,” Barbie chides me. “She designed my sleeve! I can’t believe you’re here!”

“How’s Roxy and the boys?” Elle asks, ignoring me, all of her attention focused on Barbie.

I lean against the wall and listen to their conversation. Obviously, I’m not needed.

“Oh, they’re wonderful. They love this little town. Max is playing cello. He’s in love with his teacher at the high school, Miss Mills.”

“Ginny Mills?”

“Yes! Do you know her? Oh, she’s just the sweetest thing there ever was. She’s been coming to the house twice a week for private lessons. She thinks he might be able to get a scholarship. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can! Max is amazing. Has he decided what print he wants for his high school graduation yet?”

“Hold up,” I interrupt when I can’t take it anymore. “Someone explain how the fuck you two know each other and why I didn’t know about this little relationship.”

“Oh, he’s extra grumpy today.” Barbie rolls her eyes and looks at Elle like I’m the problem. I’m not the fucking problem, they are!

“If I use tiny words, you should be able to understand,” Elle says in a baby voice that is going to drive me to violence. “I met Barbie and her family about nine years ago. We became friends. Max was in the first art class I taught at Canvas and Clay, and we’ve kept in touch. Did you catch all that?”

“You’re a bi—" I stop myself before I can finish the word. "You're such a pain, did you know that?” I ask. “Again, why does anyone think I’d want to rent my space to someone like you?”

“Someone like me?” she asks, her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, Tink. Someone like you. Rude, thinks everyone should bow down to them, shitty attitude, the works.”

“Oh, shit.” Barbie blows out a breath and takes a step back from where we’ve gotten close. Too close.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” Elle begins, “but I’ll have you know that the only attitude I throw around matches the attitudes of the people around me. You don’t know fuck all about me, but you’ve decided, and that’s that, huh? Don’t want to rent me the space? Fine. Don’t fucking rent me the space, asshole. I’ll find somewhere else for what I need.”

And then it happens. She stomps her foot, her messy bun bounces on top of her head, her eyes sparkle like she might be enjoying this, and I laugh. Out loud and from my belly. I don’t think I’ve laughed like this in ten years, if ever. My eyes are watering, and I can’t stop. When she huffs and stomps her foot again, all I can picture is Tinkerbell pouting. She needs somewings, a green dress, and cotton balls on her feet and she could go work for the Mouse right away. No interview needed.

“Is he okay?” I hear her ask Barbie.

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