Page 59 of Fast and Dirty

That’s when I see the slightest hint of a smirk on his face - by that, I mean one that’s actually genuine, not cynical or sarcastic. It only took about six hours. I wonder if he’s just the type whose best self comes out when he’s one on one. My theory is proved about five minutes later when Razor walks in, tell-tale turquoise box balanced on one hand.

“Hey boss,” he greets, his voice slightly subdued.

“Razor, why the fuck are you bringing donuts?”

“Can I have tomorrow afternoon off?”

The guy never misses an hour of work. He believes in a well-oiled machine which is why he’s such a solid employee and I know he runs the Chaos in the same manner. “Razor, whatever it is you need, go for it,” I wave my hand before wiping it on a shammy. “You don’t have to bribe me with donuts.”

He deadpans me with an arched brow. “Because you’re trying to watch your girlish figure?”

Ah, there’s the hard ass biker I know.

“Whatever it is, it must be important,” I ignore his jab.

“Julie’s flying in,” he reports.

“Your daughter?”

He nods. “Things aren’t working out too well with her mom and stepdad, so she’s going to come stay with me.”

“How old is she?” Ryan looks up from the hood.

“None of your goddamn business,” Razor snarls and Ryan disappears back into his work without a word.

“Man,” I shake my head. “What is it about this town? It’s like a magnet for people seeking refuge.”

“You tell me, you’re the trendsetter,” he quips with a gruff chuckle.

“I guess that’s true,” I grin sheepishly. I came here two years ago, not knowing what to expect and found a home almost immediately. Then Hunt’s cousin Hattie and Kira dropped in. Now my sister and Razor's daughter. And after the summer festival, there’s no telling how many people will fall in love with this place.

23

KIRA

“Does anyone know a Trisha Lynn?” I ask aloud from my seat at the dining table. My eyes are still very focused on Hattie’s laptop where I have the town’s event Facebook page up.

“Nope!” Hattie chirps triumphantly from the other side of the table where she’s playing Gin with Agnes…who happens to have a tumbler of actual gin in front of her. “Must be an out-of-towner.” She lays down two pairs, making Agnes grumble, reaching for her glass.

“This is amazing….over five hundred people have clicked on Going for the event. That’s not bad, right?” I lift my eyebrows hopefully.

“Who am I to say?” Hattie lifts her shoulder. “I don’t know what the norm is for tiny town festival but who cares? It’s bigger than your average garage party.”

“And I’m pretty sure half of them are from out of town,” I marvel. Anytime I’ve seen a new interested account click on our page I’ve had to ask around to see if anyone knows the person so I’m not completely sure, but I’m definitely encouraged. “So Hat, you’re going to have your tent set up with your organic doggyshampoo samples, and are you maybe going to have Ramathorne on display?” I ask, referring to her French bulldog.

“You bet, and everyone who’s entered their dog in the parade will have had a spa date with me less than twenty-four hours prior.”

Agnes sets down a pair and a royal straight. “Suck it,” she grumbles, followed by a demure burp.

“Damn, I’m reading the comments and a lot of people are coming for the beer and the food,” I announce. “I hope Maggie has enough.”

“Add in a chili cookoff,” Hattie suggests. “That brings in more food at no cost.”

“Fantastic idea.” I let out a breath, feeling exhilarated. “And I’ve never had chili, so that would be fun to try.”

Hattie and her grandmother slide each other a sideways glance which I’ve come to learn is the universalpoor rich bitchexpression.

“My hope is for some fresh meat to show up and stay long enough for the street dance,” Agnes drawls. “The entertainment around here has been lacking lately.”

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