This made me feel way better. Of course, I still hated her and wanted to rush across the tarmac and rip her hair out. But Ty said I was class and beauty and now I knew why. Because, in comparison to Misty Keaton, I fucking was, top-to-toe.
I turned back to Ty, pressed deep and when I did, I got his eyes.
“Dude, I am way more that than her,” I informed him, he blinked then I felt his body start shaking.
“Think I already told you that, mama,” he replied in his soft voice that was better than his normal soft voice considering it was soft and amused.
Must be said, I was liking this mama thing.
I held his eyes and asked quietly, “You okay?”
He gave me a shallow chin dip of affirmative before answering, “Pullin’ out my .38 and gunnin’ ‘em down in broad daylight with witnesses kinda fucks with my grand plan o’ vengeance.”
I started giggling and slid my arms from around his neck to rest them on the wide wall of his chest.
“Yeah, being present at the incident, I probably wouldn’t be very convincing as an alibi.”
His lips tipped up. “Probably not.”
I allowed myself to enjoy his small grin. Then I sighed.
Then I asked, “This the first time you’ve seen them?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry, honey,” I whispered.
“Gonna happen.”
“Right,” I muttered, my eyes sliding to his throat.
His arms gave me a squeeze and my eyes slid back.
“Got work to do. I’ll call The Rooster, text you with a time. You good with that?”
I smiled at him. “Way good, hubby.”
He shook his head once then dropped it to touch his mouth to mine.
Then he murmured, “Go. See you later.”
“Later,” I agreed then I slid my hand up to his neck and curled my fingers around, holding his eyes and giving him something I hoped would carry him through having those two even close to his space. “You’re far and away the most beautiful man I’ve met and it isn’t just that you have the looks and the body but it’s a whole lot more, Ty Walker.”
Then I got up on tiptoe, kissed his jaw and avoided his eyes as I pulled out of his arms by turning and moving away.
As I strolled to my car, I smiled at the two gray-blue coverall covered men, my eyes moved to Wood and I called, “Hey, Wood.”
“Lexie,” he said, jerked his chin up and smiled at me.
I walked by him and to the car, my eyes on Stella to see her head turned to the Keatons but her eyes slid to the side more than once. Detective Chace Keaton was talking to her. Misty Keaton’s head was shifting quickly back and forth and back again between Ty and me, she had sunglasses on so I couldn’t see her eyes but the rest of her face I didn’t get. Surprise, maybe. Hesitation, definitely. But also I detected fear.
I hoped I detected right. I wanted the bitch afraid. She deserved fear and lots of it.
I got to the driver’s side of the Charger and Stella’s head turned my way so I smiled and waved.
“Hey, Stella!” I called.
“Hey, Lexie. How’s it goin’?”
“Awesome! Life is sweet,” I replied and she grinned.
“Good to hear, babe.”
My eyes moved to the Keatons who were both now looking at me and I gave them a friendly wave and a, “Hey!”
Chace Keaton’s eyes did a head-to-toe. Misty didn’t move a muscle. Neither of them gave me a “hey?? back.
Whatever. So they were dirty, skanky and rude. Not a surprise.
I turned around, opened my door, looked over the hood of the Charger and saw Ty disappearing into a bay. I got in, fired my baby up, backed out and resisted the urge to run down the Keatons. I might hit Stella and she was cool so that would be uncool.
Then I drove to the entrance of the garage, looked right then left then right again then something made me look left and I saw Bubba’s, the bar Tate and Krystal owned a few blocks down. I stared at it a second that slid to three. Then I turned right and headed home. I had groceries in the car I needed to unpack and put away because some of them needed the fridge.
But for some reason all I could think of was Bubba’s, Tate, the Keatons and my man forced to endure painful, bitter history delivering a sucker punch whenever Lady Luck was feeling sassy.
I drove home, parked in the garage, lugged up the groceries and put them away and still couldn’t quit thinking of Bubba’s. So I looked at the clock on the microwave over the stove and considered my wardrobe options, made a selection, calculated the time I’d need to gussy up and made a decision.
It might be stupid. It might be smart. It might piss off Lady Luck who’d make me pay the hard way.
But I had to try.
So I got in the car and drove back into town straight to Bubba’s. I parked out front and saw a line of bikes, about six of them and several other cars including a supremely beat up pickup truck. It was after three in the afternoon, not prime time drinking hours but Bubba’s looked relatively busy.