Page 3 of I Want Crazy (Loco, Texas 3)

He dropped his hand, his irritation back in full force. “It’s a nickname.”

“Because of your hair?”

He kept his hair short so it wouldn’t be so telling, but even then, people didn’t make fun of his hair. Not since he was in high school and grew eight inches in a year.

“They called me Red when I played football, because I came off the line like a bull chasing a red flag.”

“Oh man,” she said, her voice filled with mock sympathy. “Is that what they told you?”

Tired of being the butt of her jokes, he added, “People don’t normally make fun of me, especially when I don’t even know their name.”

“I’m Jessie. And I’m guessing people probably don’t make fun of you because you intimidate most of them.” Slowly, she looked him up and down with a mocking smile. “I mean, I’d call you Jolly Green Giant, but the color doesn’t fit.”

He caught the twinkle in her eye and had a feeling she already had a nickname for him. “Obviously I don’t intimidate you.”

He saw the twisted tattoo that started on her inner wrist as she pushed a few loose strands of hair back under the bandana, and his mind went to a dark place. I wonder how many tattoos I can’t see.

He shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. Do not go there with her. This woman is the enemy!

“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice oozed false sweetness. “I’ve met bigger and badder men than you.”

He leaned down until they were almost nose to nose. “California, you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Despite his best “I’m the boss” voice, she snorted in his face. “Well, as charming as this little interlude has been, I need to get back to painting, so—”

The last word pierced his brain like an arrow. Painting?

Red pushed past her inside, ignoring her “Hey,” and sucked in his breath at the plastic covering most of the floor. Sure enough, everything was off the walls and the counters of the bar were pulled off. She had already started covering the wood walls with some kind of plaster.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

“You! Get the hell out of my bar and go take your meds!” she yelled back, picking up a paintbrush and flinging it at him.

He leaned to the left, and the brush whizzed by his shoulder. “You’re calling me crazy? You’re covering cedar walls with cement! You’re fucking crazy!”

She headed toward the bar, shooting him a black look over her shoulder. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Good, ’cause I want to file a restraining order!” He knew he had no legal recourse, but there had to be something to stop her from ruining his second home. Okay, maybe third home.

“A restraining order against me? This is my bar!” She’d picked up the phone and was pointing at her chest. Red tried not to lose track of his mission, but damn, she was stacked. Why did someone that hot have to be so disagreeable?

“Lady, this bar has been the same for over thirty years, and if there’s one thing the people of Loco hate, it’s change.”

“Which is probably why I got such a great deal. This place is a run-down piece of—”

“Why you—”

She picked up the phone, cutting him off. “Yes, this is Jessie Dale. I just bought the…” Her lips thinned as she paused, probably listening to the person on the other end. “Yeah, I’m the flat-landing hippie from California.”

Red didn’t even bother smothering his laugh and earned a killing glare from her.

“I’ve got some crazy guy who won’t leave my bar, and I need someone to…well, he’s huge and says his name is Red…” She waited a second, then held the phone out to him. “He wants to talk to you.”

Red walked over the plastic-covered floor and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Red, are you trespassing?” Red recognized Finn Meyers’s deep, amused voice. They were friends and had grown up together, but Finn was a cop first.

“No, I was just admiring the way Ms. Dale was plastering over the cedar planks,” Red growled. “Fuck, man, she’s ruining the Watering Hole!”

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