Page 20 of Property of Mongrel

“If he was serious, he’ll wait until you’ve discharged him. So, do you want to go to the farmer’s market this weekend?” she asks.

“Why is that even a question?” I tease, grinning at her. “Even after divvying up those awesome checks I got, I’ve still got money available to spend without any kind of guilt!”

Betty laughs as the waiter brings our meals and sets them down. “Let’s figure out a plan of attack for this weekend then,” she says. “I heard that there’s a vendor who will be there who does cake pops and that kind of thing.”

“I wonder… I wonder if it’s the woman that Mongrel said made the ones he gave me,” I muse. Betty raises her brow and I say, “He brought in a bag of cake pops for the little boy I see, and they were crafted in superhero shapes and colors. An Iron Man mask. A pretty detailed Harley motorcycle. A Hulk. Actually, all of the Avengers now that I think about it. But he also gave me a box of what he called gourmet flavors and one of them tasted just like hummingbird cake!”

“No way,” Betty says.

“Way,” I assert as I pull out one of the hummingbird cake ones and slide it across the table toward Betty. “Take a bite.”

“Can I wait until I finish eating?” she asks, grinning at me.

“Whatever, I want you to try it, Betty, it’s so good.”

In between bites of food, I pull up the listing for the upcoming farmer’s market to see what vendors are planning to be there. “Spill the beans,” Betty says. “Any of the vendors we enjoy buying from going to be there?”

“The herbalist with some of our favorite scents, as well as new ones for the upcoming holiday season, Granny Jones with her quilts so now that I’ve got shit paid off, I’m finally going to get one, oh, and I bet Gretchen’s Goodies is the one you were interested in. Let me read more,” I reply, clicking on the bio. “Yep, she makes cake pops for this kind of thing but also has a website that showcases other things she can make. It’s the same woman who made that,” I tell her, pointing at the cake pop next to her plate.

She rolls her eyes then opens the package that the cake pop is in before taking a small bite. I watch closely and see her eyes widen before she takes another one, a slight moan coming from her lips. “Holy crap!” she exclaims. “I wonder if she accepts preorders for the farmer’s market.”

I scoff while rolling my eyes. “I doubt it, it’s probably like everyone else, first come, first serve, Betty.”

“Then we need to be there when it opens,” Betty decrees.

“But I’ve got to… do my weekly cleaning,” I weakly murmur as Betty raises her brow at me. “Betty,” I whine, “it helps keep me sane.”

“I’m willing to bet that your floors are practically sterile and there’s not a speck of dust on anything,” Betty replies. “You can wait a few hours, Addy, it won’t kill you.”

“That’s how it all started, though, remember?” I whisper, my mind suddenly back in that horrible trailer.

“And you’re not there any longer,” she replies, her hand now covering mine in a gentle squeeze.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Mongrel

“Explain again what you’re doing today,” Jonah demands. While he and Uncle Leroy look for somewhere down here they can relocate to, he manages to come and stay with me every weekend.

“So, Doc’s ol’ lady, Gretchen, makes various sweet treats. Several of us helped renovate a pop-up camper for her and today we’re going to the local farmer’s market for her to set up and sell her stuff,” I reply as I carefully load the coolers onto the camper.

Normally, I’d just lift them up, but I still have restrictions on my left shoulder, so I’m utilizing the wheels on the bottom of the cooler, as well as the ramp that Doc built into the side to make it easy to get shit in and out.

“Sounds interesting,” he says once I explain the other vendors he’s likely to see while roaming around.

“Constance and Maria have a booth as well,” I add. “Since I’m kind of limited on what I can and can’t do right now, I don’t mind helping her at all, at least until one of two things happen. Either she sells out completely, which I suspect will happen, or Doc will show up.”

Once I’m satisfied that everything’s ready to go, I hop in the cab of the truck and motion for Jonah to get in too. “We’re heading there now so we can get it set up for her. She and Doc will bring breakfast for us.”

“Didn’t think bikers got up this early,” Jonah mumbles as we head to the gate where Monkey is waiting to open it for us.

I start laughing while shaking my head. “Stereotype much?” I ask. There’s no anger in my tone, because despite what I’ve already told him, I don’t think he completely grasps the fact that the Triple R Ranch is a working ranch and as such, early hours are the norm. Granted, it’s mostly the ranch hands who are up before the roosters crow, but most of the brothers have businesses they work at, so they don’t lie around all day. Although, they do have varied hours so maybe that’s where Jonah got his ideas from, who knows?

He has the decency to look sheepish, but I can’t hold my laughter back and it fills the cab of the truck as we head into town. “What’s so funny?” he questions.

“Although the ranch hands are up early to take care of the livestock and shit, most of us make our own schedules, Jonah. The problem is, all of us have worked on the ranch in one capacity or another and those rooster hours are ingrained at this point. Same with the other brothers. I mean, I think the tattoo parlor starts taking clients around eleven, but Abyss is usually there with his ol’ lady, Shelly, by nine. And when the ranch hosts a rodeo, we’re all up and out helping Pancho, Juan, and Luis, as well as the other ranch hands to make sure everything is just right. I’ve slept more since I had this surgery than I have in years,” I admit.