Page 13 of Psycho

“That thing didn't work right to begin with. It’s a miracle we didn’t electrocute ourselves when we made toast every morning.”

His gaze slowly swept over me from head to toe, until heat flushed up my neck at his scrutiny. My skin felt too-tight, my stomach twisting in knots.

“Well, you must be doing well for yourself if you can afford a place like this,” I said, gesturing to my surroundings.

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

“It used to be an old barn actually. Infested with mice. And it reeked of pig shit. The farmer just wanted someone to take it off his hands, and he sold it to me for pennies on the dollar.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“So, you literally live in a barn?”

Arrow rolled his eyes and the faint hint of a smile flickered across his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, crack all the jokes you want. I guarantee I’ve heard them before. Many times over.”

I exhaled a soft laugh, smoothing my hand over the table’s surface. There was so much room to move and breathe here. It looked nothing like a barn. Arrow had completely transformed it into something better. Something beautiful.

“Did you fix it up yourself?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I had help from my club. It took all summer, but we stripped it down to bare bones. Then we worked from there. By the time the snow started to fly, I was settled in.”

His club—his friends. They helped him to build a home.

I slid my hands into my jacket pockets, suddenly feeling like an intruder in Arrow’s life.

“What are you doing here, Bobbie?” he asked, quiet and low.

“You invited me,” I pointed out.

He angled his head with a look that clearly indicated he didn’t appreciate my evasive response. I swallowed hard and glanced away.

“How long have you been in Juniper Creek?” Arrow prompted. “What the hell are you doing feeding information to my club? And why the fuck are you mixed up with Huxley?”

“You don’t waste any time getting straight to business, do you?” I asked, trying to laugh off the seriousness of the moment.

But Arrow didn’t laugh. He regarded me with steady gray eyes, pinning me with a piercing stare.

“It just sort of…happened,” I admitted. “By accident. I was working at this hole-in-the-wall bar and I overheard a few things about The Filthy Rebels. I didn't think much about it. Bikers, alcohol, testosterone, and bars—a potent combo bound to stir up drama every time."

"And where did Hillbilly factor in?"

"He stopped by for a drink, asked a few questions. I happened to know more than I realized, and he was willing to pay me for the information I had. The rest is history."

Arrow remained silent, waiting for me to continue. I sighed, tugging at the cuffs of my sleeves.

“I blew up my life in Nashville, Tennessee,” I said. “I ran away, like I always do. And I stumbled into town. Then I saw you.”

A gleam of interest sparked in Arrow’s eyes, but still, he said nothing.

“You were thriving,” I said. “And I…wasn’t. I thought maybe you wouldn’t want the past to come knocking at your door again.”

“Bobbie,” Arrow chided gently.

Worry nagged at the back of my mind that I was ruining everything again. My brain itched. I tried to chew my thumbnail, but it was already down to a stub.