Page 20 of The Renegade Billionaire
“Everything okay?” I ask, hurrying to the stairs in case he falls.
“Just peachy. I got some errands to run. Whatcha got in there?” He points to the tray I’m still holding in the air.
“Coffee and a tea.”
His laugh is a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
“Ya weren’t ready to pick a side, huh? Smart. I’ll take the coffee.” Pops sticks his nose into the cup closest to him, takes it from the holder, then runs his free hand along the hood of the truck and climbs in.
“Should we let Madison know we’re heading out?” The driver’s door creaks as I open it.
“I’m not her ward, boy. Back her up and head toward town.”
Suppressing my laughter, I buckle my seatbelt, put the tea I have no intention of drinking into the cup holder, and follow his directions to town.
“So, what kind of errands are we doing this afternoon?”
“Gotta run to Huckabees. I’ve got some fixin’ to do, and now I’ve got a helper, so we’re doing it together.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s your helper?” Looking both ways, I turn left at the four-way intersection.
“This here is called Compassion Corner. If you keep going straight, it’d take you to Bitter Creek.”
My lips tilt up at the corners. “So the town really stuck with its emotional theme, huh?”
“Damn straight, boy. Happiness folk ain’t afraid of crying.”
“Good to know. What other areas should I be aware of?”
“Joy Junction’s where the movie theater is. Bitter Creek has the best swimming hole in all of Georgia. Envy’s Edge is a beauty at night—y’all never seen so many stars. Oh, and Pride Peak is where all you young folk go hiking. Turn right up here.”
I do as he says, and a few moments later, we’re parking in front of Huckabees Hardware Store.
“This is a good truck, boy. You did good.” Pops, who still hasn’t given me his real name, waltzes into the store with me trailing behind.
“Afternoon, Marty,” Pops says to the man behind the counter.
“Pops, what are you doing in here today? Is Madi with you?”
Does everyone call him Pops?
“Nah, she’s over doing her thing at the Chug. I’ve got some shutters to hang and some drywall to patch up.” Pops turns to me. “Grab a cart, boy.”
Dutifully, I obey.
“Ah, Pops.” Marty groans, then tosses his hands into the air. “Don’t get me in trouble with Madi again. You know she doesn’t want you working on the inn right now.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” Pops says with a thread of defiance in his tone. “I’ve got a helper. Marty, meet Brax. Brax, meet Marty.”
My head snaps up. “I’m the helper?”
Marty chuckles, and Pops keeps on moseying down the aisle.
“Pops, you know I can’t let you charge stuff to your account. Madi said things were tough?—”
“I know what Madi said, Marty. But we gotta fix some shit.”
Pops moves farther into the store, and Marty scratches the side of his head. I could tell the Hideaway had seen better days, but is it because they’re not able to afford the repairs?
