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The small town of Rosewood was nestled deep in the Shenandoah Valley, amongst beautiful mountain views, with some of the finest dining around, and was the only place where everyone liked everyone.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly correct because it looked as if murder was on the menu and I was about to become a statistic.
Hearing laughter, I looked up as I saw Priest grinning from ear to ear.
Fucking rat bastard.
Thought that fucker believed in compassion and absolution and all that shit. Wasn’t murder against his fucking beliefs?
“You just gonna stand there and laugh or help a brother out?!” I yelled, as more items were hurled toward me.
“I did help. I let Marie in.”
Growling, I ducked as a bottle of shampoo flew past me, exploding as it hit the wall.
Damn it! That shit was expensive.
Trying diplomacy, I raised my hands in surrender.
“You’re right, darlin’. Coffee tastes like piss water. How about I rustle us up some strawberry milkshakes?”
“I’m allergic to strawberries, you jackass!”
“What?” I said, stopping in my tracks.
No, she wasn’t.
I vividly remembered her drinking one not even two days ago while we were over at the bowling alley. She sucked and sucked on that thing until I was so fucking hard. We didn’t even make it back to my place. I fucked her right there in the parking lot behind the bowling alley.
“Katie likes strawberries,” Priest said, laughing his ass off. “Marie prefers banana.”
“Huh,” I said, scratching my head. “Could have sworn it was Marie.”
Not caring if it was clean, I grabbed a shirt and quickly put it on as Priest added, “Nope, Katie likes strawberries, Carol likes kiwi, Marie prefers banana, and Bethany Jane there likes blueberry.”
“Are you sure?” I questioned.
“Yep.”
“Well, which one liked those red things? You know, with all the little berries in it?”
“You mean a pomegranate? That was Ashley.”
“You are the lowest piece of scum!” Marie ranted. “How I ever let you into my pants, I will never know.”
“I can tell ya.” I grinned, snapping my fingers. “I know this one. We were at the Fall Harvest Festival. You tripped over a basket and landed right in my lap.”
“That was Lee Anne,” Priest groaned, shaking his head. “You met Marie at the Fall Creek Falls gift shop.”
“No, that was Emily.”
“Nope, you met Emily at the Founders’ Day Festival last week.”
“Huh,” I said, grabbing my boots as I followed Priest out of the room. “Then who did I meet at the Fourth of July Festival?”
“Oh, that was Daisy. Now she was a riot.” Priest smirked, shaking his head, as he snatched a set of keys off the hook by the front door.
I’d just climbed into the passenger seat of his truck when Marie and Bethany Jane stood in my doorway staring daggers at me.
