I won’t let anythingelsehappen to her.
We have to find the fucking treasure. I have to find the fucking blond caveman. And I have to make sure Nigel knows that Sloane is completely off-limits. Not just starting Saturday, at our wedding, but from this moment on.
Fake.
Fake wedding.
I meant to thinkfake wedding.
Shit.
“Get off of me, you buffoon. Do you know who I am?” Nigel says.
“Nobody punches former Bro Code members in my town and gets away with it,” Chester replies.
“I didn’tpunchhim. Iscaredhim.”
“You didn’t do either,” Chester says. “He dodged you like he’s the wind, and the only person any of us are afraid of in this town is Tillie Jean.”
“He’s mistreating my fiancée.”
“Uh, last I heard,he’sher fiancé.”
“But he might not be the only one!” Mrs. Kapinski calls.
Sloane sighs.
Tillie Jean sighs.
I stifle a sigh.
“Chester, what do you need from Sloane?” Tillie Jean says.
“Just her statement.”
“Great. Get off the hot preacher dude and come take her statement so she and Davis can go home and rest.”
There’s no mistaking the look Tillie Jean gives me now.
It’syou’re fucking lucky I’m willing to keep up this ruse, or I’d be taking Sloane home to my house right now.
“Peggy,” Sloane whispers.
“Got everything she needs,” I tell her.
And I will.
Just need to send one quick text message.
“You heard her,” Nigel says. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Your language is atrocious, Nigel,” Sloane says. “Maybe try sayingpleaseso that Chester knows you’re not going to try to take out my fiancé again.”
“He started it.”
“Do you know what’s sexy, Nigel? Taking responsibility is sexy.”
I’ve spent fifteen years practicing daily meditation. Impulse control. Mind over body.
