“Fine, I’ll call my sister.”
Oh, fuck my life.
“Hollis, my office,” he snaps.
When I stand, I meet Delilah’s gaze and give her an appreciative grin for having my back at the bar. I know she warned me to stay out of trouble, but it was more important for me to send a message.
Once I’m in the chair, I explain what happened. He doesn’t bother taking notes nor interrupt me, so I keep going until I tell him why I took the first hit.
“I thought someone told me the wrong name at first. Fully expected Wilder to walk out of the bar,” he muses. “But I understand why ya did it and him eggin’ ya on. Still, the bar’s gonna press charges, so I have to write up a citation.”
“Understood, sir.”
After I sign all the paperwork, he escorts me out of his office, and I’m met with Delilah and her sister.
Harlow’s in her PJ pants and was obviously sleeping. Her hair’s pulled up into a messy bun and she’s makeup free. But she’s stunning as always.
Words I should not be thinking about her.
“Murphy, you’re next,” Sheriff Wagner orders, and once they’re both gone, I step closer to the girls.
“Hey, how’re you feelin’?” I ask Harlow.
Her green eyes meet mine. “Sore, but I’ll live.”
“Sore? What happened?” Delilah asks.
“She fell off Piper durin’ her lesson,” I explain before Harlow can. “She should be restin’.”
“Oh my God, you didn’t tell me that,” Delilah scolds her.
“It’s no biggie. Landed on my ass, mostly. But I wasn’t about to miss seein’ you in jail.” Harlow snickers.
“I was awitnessto this dumbass, who I told not to start a fight,” Delilah clarifies, waving her hand at me. “Never listens to me.”
Harlow crosses her arms, amused. “Yeah, let’s talk about that.”
I blow out a tense breath. “Let’s not.”
Delilah shoots her gaze at me. “And I got pushed down too. Thanks so much for askin’ how I am.”
“Sorry.” I suppress a grin. “I knew you could hold your own.”
“Damn right. Coulda fought better than you too.”
I scoff, quickly glancing at Harlow, who’s staring at me, and I avert my gaze before it gets awkward.
“Well, for what it’s worth, sorry for gettin’ you involved,” I say earnestly, then turn to Harlow. “And for you havin’ to come get her. I coulda driven her.”
Harlow shrugs. “It’s fine. I clearly had nothin’ better to do on a Friday night except doom scroll through horrible datin’ profiles.”
My heart plummets into my stomach, and I almost blurt out the same question Delilah asks.
“Since when are you on a datin’ app?”
“I only made one today. Natalie encouraged me. But it’s already terrifying.”
Who’s Natalie?
