Page 417 of Small Town Firsts
Even consumed with Bishop’s problem, I couldn’t help smiling like a fool. And now she was everything, assuming she ever stopped bartering adult booties and came back to me.
“No,” Bishop bit off.
My breath rushed out. “Thank God.”
More static. “Her name definitely wasn’t April. If what she told me was even her name. We only did first ones. Now I’m questioning everything.”
Momentary relief squelched.
“Okay, what did she look?—”
A choppy voice on an intercom crackled across the line before Bishop swore. “Sorry, man, I have to go. We’ll reschedule that meeting in a few days. Whatever you need.”
“Sure, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry about this.”
Really sorry if my sneaking suspicion was right. But what were the odds?
Then again, I’d fallen in love in the course of a week with a complete stranger. A smart, funny, beautiful one who’d opened up the whole world to me—both the logical one and the mystical.
There were a hell of a lot more forces at work than I could comprehend. All I could do was be grateful for them.
“Me too, Shaw.” Suddenly, he sounded so weary—and broken. I knew too well what that felt like. And I hated my buddy losing someone he’d found a connection with after all he‘d endured in the past.
We hung up.
I sat there for a while, just thinking. Wondering if there was some divine plan that made sense to someone at the controls, if such a being existed. I was more inclined to believe that now than I had in the recent past, that was for damn sure.
My phone buzzed a bit later.
Dex:
Hey, assclown, did you forget me? I’m sitting here at the bar with two women who would be more than happy to soothe my sorrows at being stood up. And they can tie cherry stems with their nipples.
Is that even English?
Dex:
Who cares? They’re hot and they have nipples and a willingness to let me enjoy them. So you have twenty minutes to get here or I’m going to let them take advantage of me.
I’m on my way. Don’t drink all the beer.
Dex:
Not what I intended on sampling first, but fine.
I shook my head as I stuffed papers from the Donnelly case into my file folder. My brother was a horndog to the nth degree.
Hmm, maybe I should hand him Mary Donnelly to deal with. He’d said he could help out more. This divorce was only in the early stages, and Mary had warned me she had new “bombshell” allegations that were going to “fry that sucker.” Not exactly my preference, and Dex enjoyed the game of all of it far more than I did.
Because it wasn’t a game. These were real people and real lives being shattered.
But if Dex was willing to take on additional cases, why not ask him if he wanted to wade into the fray? I’d just have to get him drunk enough to feel amenable. It shouldn’t be too hard. Mary and Harvey’s estate was valued in the high seven figures, and she claimed the fucker—her term not mine—was hidingeven more funds offshore. Dex would be more than handsomely paid for his trouble. I just didn’t want the hassle.
I fed Smoky and gave him fresh water and futilely tried to get him to sit on my shoulder like he did with Ryan. The only thing that made him warm marginally toward me was an extra helping of Chunky Beef Tips—and my lie that Ryan would be home soon. At that, he gave me a head bonk and an actual rumbling purr.
It lasted approximately thirty-eight seconds, but I wasn’t choosy.
On my way to the bar, a text came in.
