Page 66 of The Belle and the Biker

Crash, who's been outside making phone calls, walks up behind me and starts massaging my shoulders. Mmm. He could do that professionally. "The vet just called, and Buttercup is ready to be discharged. Your aunt Hepzibah paid the bill for you already, and we can pick her up anytime today. Would you be okay with Tawny giving you a ride there? She's adequately armed in case of attack, and I trust her to watch over you. She'll borrow the club secretary's pickup truck so you can get all the dogs. I need to talk about some club stuff with Reaper."

"Sure thing," I say. "I mean, I could also just get a cab and drive over there myself."

"Ha-ha, that's hilarious. Hell no."

"The guy probably gave up," I reason. "Or at least he has no idea where I am now. Then again, if I'm going to be handling a dog and eight puppies, I could use some help. I just don't want to be putting everyone out forever."

When we head out, Tawny says she must stop at the local supermarket and do some shopping before we get to the vet's office. She drags me up and down the aisle, takes forever, finally picks up some garbage bags and coffee, and then suggests we get our nails done before we get the dogs.

"Won't Crash worry?" I ask her.

"He'll be fine. I told him I had some errands to run on the way to get the dogs."

Well, I do love a good mani-pedi, and Crash sure isn't going to come with me to get one. She isn't happy with my short, modest shell pink nails, muttering that they're way more Savannah than Banshee, so I let her talk me into getting shiny black polish instead. She has hers done, blood red and pointy.

"The better to gouge out eyes with," she says.

"No explanation needed." I hold my hands out for her inspection. "What do you think?"

"Nice. You could paint little skulls on them," she suggests. "Or bleeding hearts? A heart on one, some intestines on the next one, an eyeball on the thumb…"

"Simmer down there, Morticia. Sometimes I think you should be taking stronger meds. Or any meds at all."

She stands up in her chair, leaning over to blow on her scary red spikes. "Sorry, I forgot I was dealing with Rebecca of Sunnypuke Farm. Oh hey, there's Tank!"

It's pretty funny seeing an eighty-something-year-old biker dude strolling into the salon. The other customers look at him askance and then look away quickly.

He's braided the end of his beard and wearing his cut over a Harley T-shirt. "Hello, ladies," he says. "I came to suggest that I take Buttercup and the puppies back to my house. It's a lot bigger than your trailer, and I have a fenced-in yard. My sister lives with me, and she loves dogs. Give her something to do now that she's retired. She's got diabetes. Can't get out much. It would sure cheer her up."

Why do old people keep stealing my dogs for me?

"Are you sure?" I protest. "That's nine dogs; that's a lot to take on."

He shrugs. "I've been looking for a new hound, and I think she'd be a good huntin' dog. My blue heeler Boo-Boo died of cancer last year, and…" He blinks hard and sniffles. Holy hell. Is he crying? He has tattoos on his arm that I know for a fact mean he's killed five men.

"Uh, sure," I say quickly. "I guess if it wouldn't be too big an imposition. What about the puppies?"

He wipes his nose with his sleeve. "Oh, once they're old enough, I think we can get them all adopted by the club members."

"Well, if you don't mind. Thank you. That would be a huge help."

He salutes me and saunters off.

I don't know why there's a dull ache in my chest. Buttercup was nowhere near as much fun as Tiddlywinks, and I didn't even get to know her puppies, and dogs are not my thang. Caring for them would have been a daily entry in my book of good deeds, though, and it would have kept me busy.

Tawny is driving very slowly on the way back to the trailer, and suddenly it hits me. She's been stalling all day. She never needed to go to the grocery store. She was just killing time. And how did Tank know we were at the nail salon? It's in the fancy area of town and the last place in the world he'd just happen to be driving by.

"Okay, what's going on?" I demand.

"I don't know what you mean." Tawny deliberately opens her eyes really wide. I think she's trying to look innocent, but she just looks scary.

"Liar."

"Very frequently, yeah."

She drops me off in front of the trailer, and I feel a sudden trill of alarm.

Has Crash decided he's going to leave me? Was she just giving him time to pack? Maybe my moping drove him away.

---