Page 62 of Toxic

That made my lips twitch. The fact that Butcher realized that was surprising. If it didn’t involve torture, death, or fucking, he usually didn’t care enough about a subject to pay attention.

“Everything good with Daryl?”

“Yeah, Pops is good.” I shook my head. “Everything is fine. Just trying to figure out how to win Billie over when she’s doing everything she can to avoid me.”

It’d been a week and she was still hiding in the house. The fact that she was leaving the outside chores to me, told me that she was absolutely hiding from me. I knew it was killing her to leave her ranch in my hands, but the need to get away from me was winning out over her sense of responsibility.

I knew I needed to be patient. She wasn’t like other women, so she wasn’t going to be as easy to convince that she belonged in my life. That was what was so appealing about her. Well, one of the things.

My phone rang, cutting through whatever Butcher had been about to ask about. I hit the connection and Priest’s voice filled the truck cab. “You still at the clubhouse?” He sounded worried.

“No. Why?”

“My girls are missing. You have them?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “Priest, I wouldn’t take them without-” A movement in the rear view mirror caught my attention and I broke off. There, in the back window, four small faces peeked up from the bed of the truck.

I sighed. “Looks like they have me.”

Priest muttered a curse. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing,” I said, pulling over. Butcher got out of the truck and got the girls situated into the back seat. “They’ll be at the ranch with us today,” I told him. A sly thought entered my mind.“Why don’t you bring out the rest of the kids and the women? Make a day of it.”

“Sure. They’ve been asking to see Billie again anyway.”

Of course they had. Those women were going to be a useful ally for me. Not sure why I didn’t think of this sooner.

“See you in a while.” I disconnected the call as Butcher reached back to open the little window that separated the cab from the bed of the truck. I pinned the girls with a grim look in the mirror. “You shouldn’t be riding in the back of pick-ups.”

“Yes, Uncle Toxic,” they said in unison.

“Next time just ask. You know I have no issue sneaking you into places to get into trouble.” We were more than happy to teach them all manner of delinquent behaviors, but no one was willing to put them into danger. And the thought of riding down I-10 with vehicles flying past at breakneck speed with them back there made my gut twist.

“Sorry,” Taylor said. There was guilt and remorse in her voice, something you rarely heard from the girl, so I knew they were taking this seriously.

“It’s alright. We’ve been meaning to bring you out to the ranch.”

“Can I ride a horse?” Gabby asked, hope shining in her eyes.

“Absolutely,” I replied with a grin.

It was impossible to be in a shitty mood when these girls were around. The drive passed with them asking a million questions, all of which served to lighten my mood.

By the time we pulled up in front of Billie’s house the girls were bouncing in their seats with excitement. “Go show them the sheep and llamas,” I suggested to Butcher.

He took the girls over to the fields closest to the barn.

Turning toward the house, I went inside. I found her in her room, sitting at a small desk, tapping away at the computer there. She claimed to be catching up on her books. There werespreadsheets open on the screen and she was clicking back and forth between pages.

I didn’t doubt that she was doing exactly as she said. She’d been so busy she probably hadn’t looked at the books since the last time she sent in information to her accountant for taxes. The books often got overlooked on a ranch in favor of physical tasks.

Pops would still be handing over shoe boxes filled with receipts to his accountant if I hadn’t taken over. Janet, his accountant, had made me a homemade pie in gratitude when I’d taken over the books. The first time she saw my expense sheet, she’d nearly cried. Until that point I didn’t think she had met a rancher that knew what a spreadsheet was.

“Need any help?”

She jerked in the chair, then turned and blinked at me like an owl. “Oh, hey. No.” She looked back at the computer and blinked again. “I’ve got it.” Her smile was more of a grimace. “Though I really hate doing this.”

I chuckled. “Don’t we all?”

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