AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She slams her hands on her hips. “She’s a bucket of haunted and possessed bolts and you know it.” Suddenly, Sidney gasps. “You gave her to me deliberately.”
“Do you want me to take you to the boss?”
Sidney huffs. “I know you own this place.”
“How?”
“No one in their right mind would hire you, and you’ve already said you’re the boss.” She huffs. “And you said you owned your own business the other day.”
I start chuckling. She’s unexpected, this city princess.
Yeah, I might have given her Christine, as she aptly named that beast, because I figured she’d struggle and it might amuse me for a few fucking minutes.
I might be the guy who’ll do anything for family and friends, but she’s not either, so yeah, I gave her the truck.
Call me a petty man child.
But she wrings her hands. “I can’t stay here. I—”
“Too good for us?” I’m not trying to fuck with her, and I’m not sure that’s what she means. But I’m not above prodding her to see what she means. I’m not above prodding at all.
If there’s some kind of trouble she’s involved in, I don’t want it here, not when things seem good in Norhill Tops. We don’t need more outsiders messing in things or bringing their shit here.
Outsiders don’t bother me.
Imported problems do.
“No, I just . . . I can’t . . .” She stops.
I sigh and pick up a wrench. Sidney’s eyes go wide. I roll mine and set it down, holding my hands up. Her eyes now pull down into narrow, sparking slits.
“Hey, don’t want you thinking I’m gonna fuckin’ knock you out and feed you to the purple space cats.”
Her mouth twitches. “They’re from space?”
“They didn’t say, but they are purple.”
“Maybe they’re from another dimension.”
In another lifetime, I could really like her.
“So,” I say softly, walking up to her, “you want to tell me what’s going on?
The air of lightness grows heavy, and her gaze slides away. “I just really have somewhere to be.”
“Like Hawthorn Way?”
“Surely someone has to want to be there.”
“I’m not too sure about that. It’s really small and nothing happens.”
She crosses her arms and taps her foot. “Maybe that’s my jam.”
“And maybe,” I say, pushing a lock of her straight dark, tawny gold hair back over her shoulder, “it isn’t.”
“So, tomorrow? My car?”
“Hopefully.”
