And now I’m out an upholsterer, and I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do.
Chapter 19
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Ipull into the parking lot of Piggly Wiggly, desperate to refill my fridge with food after Logan cleared it out for me while I was gone so nothing spoiled. I’m not really excited about small-town grocery shopping today, but I refuse to let the chance of running into anyone nasty get between me and food.
I grab a cart from the parking lot and push it through the automatic doors. As soon as I’m inside, I realize I misjudged my timing. I figured late afternoon on a Monday would be dead, but Piggly Wiggly is as busy as I’ve ever seen it. Apparently, a lot of the people in this town are already out of work at ten after four.
I make my trip quick, pushing around the perimeter and up a few aisles before making my way to the liquor section. Unfortunately, as soon as I turn the corner, I spot one of the ladies who I tangled with right after I got to Gold Haven. At least this time, that bitch Tricia isn’t with her. The brunette grabs a bottle of cheap vodka, and I park my cart right in front of hers and reach for the good stuff on the top shelf.
I don’t say a single word to her or even make eye contact, but that doesn’t stop her from running her mouth as soon as the bottle touches my cart.
“You just have to rub it in, don’t you? That you think you’re so much better than us. Wasn’t this weekend enough for you?”
It doesn’t surprise me that the story of what happened at the bowling alley has already made the rounds, and even more, that whatever story is being told makes me look bad.
“You weren’t there, so you might want to get your story straight before you decide to talk about it.”
“I didn’t need to be there to know that you’re more trouble than you’re worth to Logan Brantley.”
That stings, because I’ve thought that more than once myself. Regardless, there’s no way I’m going to let this woman think she hit a sore spot.
“Again, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” For good measure, I grab another bottle of vodka and push my cart around her, but my exit isn’t quite as graceful due to the squeaking cart wheels.
From behind me, she keeps talking. “I know that Logan Brantley is working his butt off on some big project, because Jock was talking about it this morning at Home Cookin’. And I also know as soon as Tricia told her mama’s cousin what happened, Mrs.Borst decided she isn’t going to finish that upholstery job Logan hired her for until you apologize to both Tricia and her mama for what you said about her brother.”
The vodka bottles tip over in my cart with a clatter when I freeze in mid-step.
Slowly, I turn around to face her. “Excuse me?”
The brunette gives me the evil eye. “You heard me. You messed with the wrong family, and now Logan’s paying the price in a big way.”
And he hasn’t told me about any of it.
Refusing to give her any more ammunition to gossip about with her friends, I tell her, “There’s absolutely nothing that’s going to stop Logan from finishing his project, let alone a bunch of small-minded bitches.”
“I guess we’ll see about that,” she says before turning in a huff and tipping over her own bottles in the process.
I head directly to the checkout lanes. My phone is already in my hand when I join the line, and I text Logan.
BANNER: Did your upholstery lady quit? Because of me and the bowling alley bitch?
When he doesn’t respond right away, my attention drifts from the lady in front of me with a dozen cases of DrPepper on the belt to the rack of tabloids.
I grab the one with a familiar face on the front page.
Cavanaugh Westman Cozy with Billionaire’s Sister
Sure enough, there’s my best friend, Greer, and her man, Cav, sitting side by side at a sidewalk café somewhere.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
MYSEXYMAN:Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.
My thumbs fly across my screen to reply.
BANNER:So that’s a yes?