Page 56 of Sweet and Salty

She still stands by the tree, a frown deepening between her brows, and her arms crossed over her chest. It isn’t her phone bothering her this time. Standing two feet from her is a skinny, disheveled white man wearing a pair of paint-stained khakis and a face that could have been dipped in neon pink blush.

Who is that guy? Why does Laura look so upset?

In seconds, I’m on my feet and chucking my compostable plate into a nearby trash can. I rush to Laura’s side and insert myself between her and the feral intruder. “Hi.” I wrap my arm around her waist so I won’t throttle him. “I’m Jesse. You might want to back off my girlfriend.”

“Jesse.” Laura taps my shoulder with one hand but I don’t move. My body is carved from marble right now. “I’m all right.”

“Okay.” I continue my epic staring contest. I’m winning, naturally. The other guy can’t lift his gaze from the tree trunk behind Laura’s head. “I know you can fight your own battles.”

“This isn’t a battle. This is Joel Hostetler.” She spits his last name. “Lucretia Borgia used to be his donkey.”

“She was a stubborn ass, just like you,” Joel says in an equally irate tone.

I take a step forward, using my extra four inches of height to full advantage. “Is that how your mama taught you to speak to a lady? No. Your mama probably won’t even talk to you any more, if you treat her like you treated that sweet donkey.”

Laura barks a laugh.

“So what is it you want?” I invade his space, forcing him to step backward.

“She should give me my ass back.”

Despite the charged nature of the interaction, a smirk plays across my lip. “You want her to hand your ass to you? I’m sure she could oblige, and I’m more than happy to watch.”

His face reddens again, darker than a candy cane. He must have an aneurysm with that kind of temper. “You know—”

“Here’s what I know.” Laura steps forward now, even with me, her voice low and deadly. Damn me, it’s hot. “I know that you are a lowlife scumbag who gets his jollies hurting animals and trying to intimidate women who look like me. News flash. I’m not scared of you. Neither is Lucretia Borgia. She’s a queen, and she is thriving on my farm. We don’t need you or any of your toxic bullshit.”

Something sparks in my brain. “Are you the one who tried to poison her? The oak leaves and acorns?”

His expression clouds. “What? No! I would never—”

“Yes, you would,” Laura says. Seriously, if she keeps speaking in that tone, I’m going to have to get her home ASAP. Okay, technically to her home. Damn semantics. “We’re done here. If I see you anywhere near my property, I’ll call the sheriff.”

“It wasn’t me.” Joel’s gaze flickers between the two of us before he growls like a starving polar bear and stalks away toward the parking lot.

Beside me, Laura softens. “Did I really do that?”

“Yes, you really did.” I slip my fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. Maybe I don’t need a label. What we have is real. And it’s good. The only good thing in my life since my grandma died. “And you were fucking stunning. Can we get out of here?”

“Definitely.”

That night,she shows me all her toys. We don’t fall asleep until four in the morning. I love Fish Fry Friday.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Laura

Who in the heck is@EsmeLaDy? I’ve endured some hateful comments in my time online, but seriously, this woman’s vitriol knows no bounds. I click over to her account information and scroll through her photos. She’s tall and wears a lot of beige and white, her black hair loose in waves around her shoulders. I hate her and her stick-figure legs.

Free and Thrivingseems a common hashtag she uses. Please.

I keep scrolling. Mostly, she’s by herself, but there are a few of her with a group of men who look custom-ordered from a Goon Squad Catalog.

Apparently she loves the racetrack and craft cocktails in colors not found in nature. I fight the urge to troll her back and make snarky comments.

Besides, it’s better than refreshing my email for the bajillionth time, looking for the audition form fromAmerica Bakes!

Four days. Four days since they called, and nothing. I’ve checked spam and their website, sent a message to their Contact Us address, and nothing.

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