Page 23 of The Renegade Billionaire
“They’re what? He’s not even from here. He’s just passing through.” Can Derek hear the fear in my tone?
“Well, Jasper was in the hardware store earlier,” Blissy says smugly. “He told Jesse who told Mrs. Cromley who told me that he saw Braxton with Pops, buying up all the things. That doesn’t sound like someone just passing through.”
Panic flares in my chest. What the heck did Pops buy? We can’t afford a hardware store run right now. We can barely even afford groceries for our guest.
“What do you mean? Pops isn’t supposed to leave the house until we get his depth perception figured out.”
Blissy shrugs but doesn’t bother hiding her grin.
“Oh my God. This is a disaster. Blissy, can you close up tonight? The high school kids will be done by seven. If not?—”
“Go, Madi. I’ve got you.”
I give the older woman a quick hug, causing the navy handkerchief she wears covering her hair to shift.
She quickly reties it while I give Derek a hug too.
“Thanks, you guys. I appreciate you.” As soon as the door shuts behind me, I scowl and nearly stomp my foot in frustration.
What the heck is Braxton thinking, taking Pops out? And why is Pops spending money he knows we don’t have?
Once I’m in my little VW Jetta, I blast the AC and take a deep breath. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. I just have to go home to see what it is.
I pullmy car into the driveway, and I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. Why is Pops’ old truck here?
He agreed to sell it. He knows driving isn’t safe with his condition.
“Against the hallway,” Pops yells, spurring me into motion.
Stepping out of the car, I come face-to-face with Braxton.
“What the heck is going on?” I ask.
Braxton’s gaze darts from me to Pops, and when he faces me again, he scratches the center of his chest and flashes the best puppy dog eyes the world has ever seen.
“Don’t puppy dog face me, Braxton Mitchell,” I say, poking him in the chest and immediately regretting the contact. Sparks shoot up my arm, and his gaze flames with amber fire that has me jumping back a step. “Taking Pops out is dangerous. He could have been seriously injured.”
“Bull hickey,” Pops mutters from his porch swing.
Spinning on my grandfather, I point my finger at him. “Don’t you start, old man. You and I had a deal, and I know you. Somehow you tricked Braxton into being your sidekick. And what the heck is your old truck doing here?” My voice loses some of its fire. “We talked about this, Pops.”
“Ah,” Braxton interrupts.
I suck in a deep breath and count to three before I turn to face him again.
“It’s actually my truck. I bought it today from Terd?—”
I lurch forward, reach up on my tiptoes, and close my palm over his mouth, startling us both. My chest presses into his rib cage, and adrenaline rushes through my veins. It’s unnatural, to have these types of reactions to a stranger—it must be.
“Do. Not. Say. That. Name. Ever. Understand?”
He nods beneath my hand, and I release him. With some space between us, the unnerving sensation rattling through my bloodstream falls away.
“So, I bought it from the Turd. I didn’t know it was Po—” He stops mid-sentence and stares at me.
“What?” I may have just growled at him.
“Harry Turd said… Oh my God.” He turns to Pops. “You’re the grandfather who owned the truck. And that makes you—” His gaze drops to mine, and so many emotions swirl in his irises as he stares. “That makes you the one who got away,” he says so quietly I practically lean in to hear him.
