“I’m not giving you my truck. Don’t even fuckin’ ask again.”
He starts to argue, but I grab his jacket and come to an abrupt halt.
“What?” he mutters, yanking free.
I jerk my chin toward the front window of Snug as a Mug, where Wilder is practically sprawled across the white waterfall counter, dimples blazing, hands braced like he’s mid-sexual innuendo, as Tabby Whitt blinks her doe eyes up at him.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, charging forward. “Asshole’s gonna get himself arrested.”
The bell above the door jingles a second before it hits the wall with a thud. Griff’s boots thunder in behind me.
“No!” I bark, grabbing Wilder by the collar. “Back away from her, man.”
Tabby’s eyes go wide, but Wilder just scoffs and swats my hand off him.
“What the fuck, Archer?” He groans, snatching his iced coffee off the counter. “We were just talking.”
“No,” I grumble, shoving him toward the exit. “You were just one dirty joke away from lock up.”
He digs in, shooting me a confused look. “She’s twenty, dude. I’m not some creep. Give me a little credit.”
Griff chuckles, tossing a ten in the tip jar with a wink. He nods his chin like it’s a cowboy hat and lays his Southern drawl on thick. “Have a nice day, miss.”
I shove Wilder out the door, Griff right behind us, and steer him toward my truck.
“Her dad is the sheriff,” I mutter. “And a raging bull where his baby girl’s concerned. Doesn’t matter if she’s only five years younger than you, he’ll kick your ass just for lookin’ at her.”
Wilder takes a long pull from his straw and glances over his shoulder like he might go back anyway. Griffin clocks him on the back of the head.
Wilder stumbles into my truck with a curse. “What the fuck, man? Jesus—you forget how massive you are?”
“Actually, I did.” Griff opens the back door and gestures grandly. “Thanks for the reminder. I’m way too massive for the back. Climb in, princess.”
“No.” Wilder crosses his arms, glaring between us. “I’m not doing it again. My knees still hurt from the last time.”
Scoffing, I yank open the driver’s door and climb behind the wheel. “Get in the back or ride in the cab—I don’t give a shit. But I’m leaving.” I glance at my watch, and a full-body shudder rolls through me. “You assholes kept me out too long, and I still need to clean before Ethel shows up.”
They stare each other down for a beat before Wilder finally huffs and folds his giant frame into the too-small back seat. Griffin cackles and slams the door before climbing in up front.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter, pulling onto the road.
Downtown bleeds into country, and I lose myself in thoughts of my never ending to do list.
We’re almost back to my place when my phone vibrates. I tug it from my pocket, and my heart skips a beat when I see the name on the screen.
“Turn it down, it’s the social worker,” I bark, heart hammering.
Fuck, what if she’s canceling? What if something happened to Aurora? What if I already messed shit up before—
Wilder flicks my cheek. “Answer it!”
Swallowing hard, I swipe and bring the phone to my ear. “This is Kade.”
“Mr. Archer, it’s Ethel Sorrenson,” she says, her voice kind but professional. “Just calling to let you know the final inspection went great. You did a wonderful job on the house—I’m thoroughly impressed with how quickly you pulled it together.”
The truck swerves, my breath catching in my lungs. Griff’s arm shoots out, correcting the wheel, eyes wide and panicked.
What the hell? She already did the inspection? How?
