Page 15 of Old-Fashioned

Fucking. Everything. I. Fucking. Had.

My eyes watched her as she cashed out, went to the back, came out with her purse, and then with a flick of her eyes in my direction, she placed her hand on Frank’s arm, and he took her out the back door.

Isla was right there at my side, “Give her a few minutes, then get on your bike, follow her home. Make sure she’s home safe, Boss. You won’t be worth a shit if you don’t. I’ve got her tables.”

I looked down at Isla, nodded, and then five minutes later I was out the door, starting my bike up just as her taillights disappeared out of the parking lot.

I followed her at a distance so she wouldn’t know it was me.

The moment she pulled onto a paved drive, stopped her Jeep, shut it off, and climbed out, I stayed on my bike.

I watched as she walked to her front door, unlocked it, stepped inside, and closed her door.

I stayed there for half an hour, making sure she wasn’t going to come out.

And in that time, I took in her house.

If a country magazine wanted to feature a cute little house in that farm-chic style, they needed to get a picture of Birdie’s house.

It was white on the outside in planks.

The front porch was a dark maple color with seven posts.

And in that time, I also took in that her yard needed to be mowed and weed eaten.

As soon as my feet crossed the threshold of the bar, and I got back behind it, Isla sauntered over and asked, “She okay?”

I nodded, and let out a breath, I hadn’t realized I was holding, “She’s home. She’s safe.

Isla nodded and then got back to work.

Forty-five minutes later I took great pleasure in throwing those boys out of my bar.

Because for the past forty-five minutes, they had done nothing but bellow for the black-haired angel that had magical powers of making dicks hard.

***

The next day, I didn’t even think about the trailer attached to my truck that had my mower on it. I didn’t even think about the equipment on the back of my trailer.

All I thought about was that her Jeep wasn’t in her drive.

And three hours later once I was finished, I didn’t think about wishing she would have come out of her house with a glass of sweet tea. And I found myself grateful that she hadn’t come outside in something that would make my job harder.

Because trying to weed eat with a hard dick, yeah, that would have resulted in a bad case of blue balls.

Fucking hell.

Chapter 3

Birdie

This morning I debated what the right course of action was.

But I recalled the lessons Miss Maggie had taught me.

That was why four hours later I was climbing out of my Jeep with my bag, and a plate of triple-chunk chocolate caramel brownies wrapped in saran wrap.

When I saw the bike that was parked, a giddy feeling assaulted me.