Page 121 of Mess With Me

“Come on, tell me.”

“Because I love beautiful things, just like you.”

“That’s right, and this isyourplace thatyoucreated. You brought luxury to this sweet little town. So why not let people see it? Don’t you want morebeauty around you?”

“You’re forgetting the part where that woman can’t afford to purchase anything.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got piles of cash at home.” I suspect Vivian does, too. It’s the only way this place stays afloat when only about five people actually buy anything here, myself, Glo, and Cassandra included. “If Melissa wants an outfit for her job interview, I’m going to buy it for her, and you’re not going to say a damn thing. She’s taking care of someone just like you, and everyone deserves a little generosity sometimes. Just like you.”

I didn’t know it was possible for Vivian to pinch her lips harder, but she does. Finally her shoulders sag. “Fine. You buy, but you need to show her how to wear it, too. I’m not going to see some slouch walking around putting a Gucci suit to shame.”

I smile, then wrap my arms around the stiff little woman. She softens, just the tiniest bit, before shoving me off her.

“Thank you, Vivian.”

“Your funeral, Smart Girl.”

CHAPTER33

Griffin

Ican see through the plate-glass window of O’Malley’s—Quince Valley’s local sports bar—that the place is busy, but not packed. There are a couple of people hanging around outside the front doors, one of whom is a guy I went to high school with, who’s trying to light a smoke in the cool breeze. It’s the end of September, but there’s a definite chill in the air now. Last night at Chester’s, when we finally started cutting pieces for the deck, he greeted us with the wool cap he wears the other half of the year, which is always symbolic of the changing of the seasons around here. “I’ll be able to sit outside just in time for winter,” he quipped. At least he’d leaned in to us doing the work.

Though he refused to tell us more about his doctor’s latest house call.

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have just met them back at our place,” I grumble as we step inside. The music’s thumping too loud, and everyone looks so damned chipper.

Sasha squeezes my hand. “We need a change of scenery.”

“Jude’s place would have worked fine. It’s big. Quiet.”

“I do love things that are big and quiet.” She smirks over her shoulder as she drags me inside.

She looks so cute I can’t help but swing her back to me right there on our way to the bar, grasping her jaw and kissing her thoroughly.

She blinks when I break the kiss, her cheeks going pink. “On second thought…home sounds okay.”

“We’re here now,” I grumble. Still, my inner caveman does an inner high five that I rattled her.

We’re the first ones here, and after ordering drinks, we take a table near the back, where it’ll at least be a little quieter.

That is, aside from a rowdy group of guys over by the pool table. A couple of them are openly appraising Sasha in her snug jeans and clingy green sweater as she sits down in her chair.

I hook my fingers around the chair’s legs, pulling her right up between my knees. “Better.”

Sasha laughs but snuggles in next to me. She hasn’t noticed the oglers. She rarely does, which is saying something, since they’re a near constant. Sasha loves clothes and makeup and shoes, but for her, it’s never about getting attention, or at least, she doesn’t care about that. The way she talks about clothes and designers is the same way Chelsea talks about art and artists. Like they’re beautiful objects. Plus she’s taught me a lot. “Did you know the skirt is the second-oldest piece of clothing in the world?” she asked me once when twirling in a frilly gold one. I’d been so mesmerized I hadn’t realized she’d asked me a question until she stopped spinning.

“What’s the first?”

She’d grinned. “The loincloth. Want me to get you one?”

The server comes by a few minutes later, smiling broadly as she sets a beer in front of me and a bubbly pink drink in front of Sasha.

“Will that be all for you two lovebirds?” she asks.

Sasha smiles back. “Yes, thank you so much, Alyssa.”

She’s read the server’s name tag, but I have no doubt they’ll be buddies by the end of the night. Sasha’s been on a friend-making tear around town—everywhere we go, people are starting to know her by name. It makes me feel guilty for keeping her all to myself.

---