Page 8 of The B!tch List

He was right. It might get me some attraction from the ladies, but I’d still be tied up for three nights over the weekend.

“Tell me again who else has entered.”

“Nancy,” Carter told me.

“Oh yeah, because she can’t say no to you.” I felt my top lip curl in disgust at the thought of Nancy. I still got pissed off that my sister had found Nancy in bed with Carter. Okay, so it was innocent because Carter fell on her when he was drugged up on painkillers, but it was still a reason to dislike her.

“The public vote could be down to you and Nancy.” His tone was toying, he knew that I’d love to beat Nancy.

“I don’t know man,” I replied with a heavy sigh.

“C’mon Shaw,” Carter pleaded. “Throw me a bone here. I need someone who can actually sing to keep everyone interested because…well, Ellie has entered.”

I busted out laughing as Carter remained silent. Ellie, Carter’s sister who was married to his best buddy Hunter, had the worst voice I’d ever heard. So horrific, she could barely hold a note. Hunter, her doting husband, just damn well indulged her. According to my sister, he’d even bought her a karaoke machine which no doubt would be brought out every time we had a cookout on the ranch.

“Y’see why I need you? Ellie can’t hold a single note, as for Nancy I have no idea. Violet Callahan is… well she’s Violet Callahan. Who the fuck knows what she will do.”

“Who else you got?” I asked, smiling at the shit show he was facing.

“Pauly Jansen and Bryce Davidson the guy who owns the carwash.” He sighed. “It’s going to be a disaster; Bryce has to be nearly ninety.”

“Stop exaggerating,” I replied, scrolling through the website for the Women’s Foundation. “He celebrated his seventieth last week. He told me when I took Dad’s car in to be detailed.”

“Oh, you mean after you took Ruthie Grey out in it and missed your aim on the back seat.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “My sister has a big mouth.”

“You should know better than to tell Bronte anything. She loves me and we have no secrets.”

“Whatever. The answer is still no,” I growled.

“Pleeeease.” He sounded like Rett, his and Bronte’s one and half year old. He was an amazing kid and I adored him but his parents…nah, not so much.

“No and stop begging. It doesn’t make you look good.”

“I’m not above paying you to do it,” he replied. “Name your price.”

“What and use up all your profits? It’s a charitable gig, what sort of person do you think I am?”

“A big meany, that’s the sort of person I think you are,” he shot back. “And when I see you again, I’m going to pinch your nipples and make you cry.”

I let out another burst of laughter. “You’re a dick, you know that right?”

“What happened to respecting your elders and your sister’s husband?”

“Like I said, you’re a bit of a dick. I mean I like you well enough, you love my sister and you’re a great dad to Rett, but other than that…”

“You’ll be sorry,” Carter said, still sounding a little petulant. “Wait until I tell Rett what a big dimwit his Uncle Shaw is.”

The line then went dead.

“You douchebag,” I muttered. “Using Rett to bribe me, what the fuck.” Then, muttering to myself about how much I hated Carter, I got on with my work.

* * *

It’d been a long day only helped by the fact that the Southern Women’s Foundation had agreed to a meeting with Tate. Otherwise, I was glad it was almost over. I had no idea what was wrong with her, but Evie had been crying for most of it. When she spilled coffee on my paperwork as she passed it to me, that sent her off the deep end. She ran into the bathroom and wouldn’t come out until Tate said he was taking her home. It hadn’t been much, but it did mean I had to reprint a whole load of documents again. To top it all off, when I went out to get a bite of lunch, I bumped into Carter who pestered meagainabout the show the whole time I was in the line at the bakery.

“You going straight home?” I asked Tate as he loosened off his necktie. He’d only worn it because he’d been on a Zoom call with a judge.

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