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“I’m going to borrow an outfit from Billie. Can you just make sure he’s locked up before I go?”
He nods. “I’ll put him out back right now.”
My gaze darts down to the small towel he’s wearing. “You should change first.”
Johnny shrugs as he heads to the stairs. “I hope to see you around, Bexley. Maybe we can do supper.”
I shake my head. “No.” I duck into Billie’s bedroom before he can reply. I press my back against the closed door. The back of my head bounces off the wood. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
What the hell just happened?
Of all the scenarios I’d played in my head for Johnny’s return, none of them came close to today.
I don’t have time to give it another thought. If I want to avoid bumping into Johnny again, I need to get dressed and get out of here.
I flip through the hangers in Billie’s closet. Black. Leather. Studs. And everything is either two sizes too small or two sizes too big. Billie has two styles. Biker babe and biker badass.
I’m not left with many choices. I choose the basics. Black skinnies with ripped knees and an oversized T-shirt.
I cautiously make my way downstairs. I plan to slip out the front door unnoticed and run back to the market.
But karma hates me today.
“There’s my girl.” The front screen door slams shut. Otto slaps a kiss on my cheek. “What do I owe this surprise?” He backs away. His gray, bushy eyebrows crease together as his gaze sweeps down my clothes. It’s comical considering his ripped denim jeans and an oil-stained T-shirt no amount of washing could clean away.
“They’re Billie’s.”
“I can see that. Raiding her closet while she’s gone?”
“Something like that.”
He touches my damp hair. “Did you have a shower?”
I hate karma.
“Corky chased her into the bathroom, and she squirted shampoo in her eyes, so I tossed her in the shower.” Johnny breezes between us and into the kitchen. “You outta put a muzzle on him.”
“You had a shower too, Son?” Otto asks Johnny but raises an eyebrow in my direction.
“No, I’m naturally wet,” Johnny scoffs.
“Mm-hmm.” Otto loops an arm around mine.
“I was actually on my way back to the market.”
Otto’s grip tightens, and he guides us to the kitchen. “Sweetheart, what’ve I told you about my boys? They’re all liars. Don’t believe a damn word that comes out of their mouths.” He pulls out a chair for me. “Especially this one.”
Some people might mistake Otto’s warning for teasing, but he’s dead serious. The old man’s a hard-ass on his boys. They’ve never gotten away with bad behavior. Bad behavior equaled working in the shop until they couldn’t work another minute.
“When have I lied?” Johnny lifts the lid of a pastry box from Brewed From a View.
Otto pours coffee into a chipped mug. “Last time you were in this house, you said you wouldn’t be back.”
“You make it sound like I was angry.” Johnny lifts out a cinnamon bun and slides the box across the table to me.
“No, thanks.”
“Where did these come from?” Otto leans over my shoulder and picks through them.
