“We can’t accept that, Ms. Hazel. You’re very kind, but—”
She holds her hand up. “Girl, please. You know how I am about my money. I didn’t say I comped your meal. I said your bill’s been taken care of. Now, get out of here and have fun. I have a wait, and I need this booth.” She makes a shooing gesture and walks away.
I look at my friends and then around the restaurant to see if anyone would cover our meal. The answer is no. I know a lot of the people here, but they wouldn’t do something like this, at least not for the three of us.
There’s a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, but I shove it away. No way. Why would he do that? To say sorry for the way he tortured us last night? But the man doesn’t seem like the type who feels regret, and I doubt that hoodlum has ever apologized to anyone in his entire criminally challenged life.
I finally slide out of the booth. Ms. Hazel was right about one thing. There’s a large crowd at the front of the place waiting to be seated. I wave at several of them and follow Selene and Cori out of the diner, happy to be out and away from him.
“Oh, fuck!” I hear Cori yell. She points in front of her, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head at what I see. I’m so shocked that I didn’t notice Cori had stopped walking, and I collide with her back. “What the actual fuck is up with that?”
Chapter 4
Eden
It’s the same motorcycle that was in my parents’ driveway last night. Except this time, it’s parked behind Cori’s car and has boxed us in.
“Whose monstrosity is this?” Selene asks. “Ugh! I want to go home and take a nap in my bed. No offense, Eden, but your couch sucks.”
“Me too,” Cori says. “I’m traumatized after last night. I’m never going to another club again.” She stomps her foot. “Eden, go ask Ms. Hazel to tell whoever owns this to move it.”
“No way,” I say. “I bet it belongs tohim.”
They both step back at my statement. Cori walks around the bike and takes pictures of it. I know nothing about motorcycles other than they’re loud, annoying, and dangerous, but this thing is enormous. I’m intimidated just looking at it. I can’t imagine riding it.
“What the hell is this man’s name?”
“Ripley King,” Cori says, and a shiver runs through me. The name fits.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, stating the obvious.
“That’s whyyouhave to go tell Ms. Hazel. She likes you the most,” Selene says. “Or call your dad so he can have it towed. He’s the sheriff.”
I shake my head at her. “Are you crazy, Selene? You want me to piss off that guy in there? How do you think he’d react to having the cops called on him? You think he would like that?” I point at the restaurant. “I’ll go ask Ms. Hazel, but when he deigns to come out, I’m going to lie down in the back seat, so he doesn’t see me. He’s mean,” I whisper. I gesture for them to come closer. “He growled at me in there.”
“I didn’t hear a growl,” Cori says.
“Trust me, he growled. I almost pissed myself,” I say. “And mean assholes are not a turn-on.”
“We’re fucked,” Selene says. “My dad thinks this town is on a direct path to hell, and Satan has gotten a foothold in Shadow Cove.”
I roll my eyes, and Cori grins. She knows I’m not in the mood to hear about Selene’s Holy Roller daddy right now.
“I’ll go,” I say in case Selene continues spouting the crap her father spews. “Because I’m sick of this shit, too. I wish I were big enough to whoop his ass because if there’s one thing that guy needs, it’s a beat down,” I grumble to no one in particular.
I stomp back to Seven Heaven and take a deep breath before I open the door. Ms. Hazel is at the register, ringing someone up. I take it as a good sign that she’s here, and I didn’t have to look for her and be seen by the thuggish one.
“Hi, darling,” Ms. Hazel says. “I thought you three had left.” She looks behind me and waves at someone.
“Um, Ms. Hazel, there’s a tacky and extremely obnoxious motorcycle blocking Cori’s car. Do you know who it belongsto? It’s red and black, huge and really ugly.” I extend my arms out. “And that monstrosity is taking up half your parking lot.” I include the last part because Ms. Hazel doesn’t want unnecessary traffic in her lot. She doesn’t even like it when someone uses her driveway to turn.
“Oh, yes. I know whose it is.”
“Great.” I clear my throat. “Would you kindly ask himor herto move it so we can go?” I lean in and whisper, “Bad taste isn’t just limited to men.”
She lets out a good laugh, but I can’t find the humor in my request. The Ms. Hazel I grew up with would raise holy hell if someone blocked a car in her parking lot. In fact, no one would dare pull a stunt like that.
“I can try, honey.” She shoos me away and leaves the register.
