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And to Jazmine.
And as it turned out…each other.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
JAZZ STOOD IN front of the bathroom mirror wearing nothing but a light blue bra as she blew her hair dry. Progress. Sure, she’d had to force herself, but spending a fantastic afternoon/night with two men who made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world had given her the courage to take the next step. And the next step was becoming comfortable in her skin again.
It would take some work as the sight of the scars not only brought back horrific memories but made her cringe with a bite of disgust. Hopefully both reactions would fade with time and practice. Lucky for her, she had plenty to think about besides what happened to her.
Like the hours and hours of pleasure Gumby and Screw had given her last night. She visibly shivered in the mirror. Damn, it’d been incredible. And way more than just physical. The three of them connected on a deeper level with their bodies but also their stories.
Jazz set her hairdryer down and cocked her head. The trill of her cell phone rang from her bedroom. “Thought I heard you,” she mumbled as she jogged across her room to where her cell lay on her bed.
Wasn’t often her phone began ringing before work since she arrived at the diner at six thirty in the morning, but if it did, it typically meant someone was calling out sick.
She didn’t recognize the number but answered it anyway since she didn’t have every employee programmed into her phone. “Hello?” As she spoke, she moved to her dresser to find some socks.
“Jazmine? This is Lynn Sampson.”
“Oh, Mrs. Sampson, hello. How are you?” she asked of her elderly landlord.
“I’m well, dear. I’m sorry for calling at this time, but I know you go to work early.”
“It’s no problem at all,” she said slipping her foot into her favorite socks. They were covered in dogs. As soon as life settled a bit, she planned to get a dog. Or a few. “Is there something wrong with my rent check?”
“Oh, heavens no. It’s nothing like that at all. I have been looking all over my house for a sewing machine that used to be my grandmothers.” She chuckled. “I thought I was losing my mind and then I remembered I boxed it up and put it in the shed over there. Would you mind fetching it so my son can come pick it up?”
Would she mind going out to the shed where she’d last seen a snake?
Uh, yeah, she minded. She minded a whole lot.
“No, Mrs. Collier, I don’t mind at all.” She’d have one of the guys do it for her later today. “When is he thinking of coming by?”
“Probably around nine this morning. If you don’t mind just leaving it on the porch before you go to work, he won’t need to get in your hair at all.”
Well crap. Gumby had left with Screw just five minutes ago. He planned to work out while Screw opened Zach’s gym. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Mrs. Sampson if her son could just go into the shed and retrieve it himself. But she bit the words back. She was an adult for crying out loud. So she saw a small snake once. Didn’t mean the place was infested. It was winter anyway. Didn’t that mean the snakes had migrated somewhere warm?
Like the inside of the shed.
Even as she shuddered in revulsion, she forced the words, “Sure, I’ll run out there right now,” past her lips.
“Thank you, honey. You’re such a sweetheart. You have a good day.”
“You too, Mrs. Sampson.” Jazz groaned the second she hit the end button.
It was then she remembered Thunder had pulled up right before the guys left. He’d get it for her. He’d also tease her until her dying day.
No, it was time to pull up her big girl panties and go out to the shed. Grumbling, Jazz slipped into her heavy winter coat and stuffed her feet into her unlaced boots. As though walking to her doom, she trudged across the backyard to the large light blue shed in the back-left corner.
She stared at the farmhouse style door for a good thirty seconds before rolling her eyes. “You big baby,” she muttered before yanking the door open. It opened easier than she remembered the last time she’d been brave enough to venture out there, but then, it’d been well over a year so who knew if her memory was accurate.
“Okay,” she murmured as she reached out to pull the string attached to a single light bulb. “If I were a sewing machine, I’d b—oh, fuck.”
Jazz stopped dead in her tracks as she gazed around the contents of the shed. Not snakes. God, how she wished it’d been full of snakes.
