Maybe I’m being ridiculous. It’s not like they’re going to kidnap her. But they might come here themselves—they might try and manipulate her into going back to Alabama with them. And their P.I. could still be sniffing around.
My one hope is that Winnie wins this lawsuit, her parents get the fucking point, and they leave her the hell alone. But I’m too much of a realist to believe that, and I’m not a fool. I won’t let them hurt her. Not again.
I make a mental note to swing by my parents’ house tomorrow and grab one of the rifles. I’ll keep it within reach of the door and teach Winnie how to hold it, load it, and shoot it without hurting herself. She might not like the extra layer of protection, but I need to know that she can defend herself when I’m not here.
Plan decided, I roll over and fall asleep.
39
WINNIE
After another dayof lazing around, I feel good as new, and I’m itching to get out of the house. I decide to grab a coffee and pastry in town at Aimee’s Bakery, before heading to the rescue to see Rosie and do some mucking.
I do my hair and makeup, and then pull on my pink boots, a pair of jeans, and a couple of warm base layers. On top, I wear a quilted barn coat that I’ve decided is the perfect combination of cute and functional. Much as I’d like to wear my fur coat every day, even I can admit that it’s not practical for the barn.
Once I get to town, I make a beeline for the bakery. There’s a line out the door, and I tuck myself in behind Ronda from the Neon Horseshoe.
“Hi!” I give her a wave and a smile.
“Last time I saw you, you were making out with your husband outside the bar’s bathrooms, right?” Ronda says, throwing me a wink.
I laugh. If only she knew that Jonah and I were sharing a practice kiss—one that quickly, and obviously became quite real.
“What’s the current town gossip?” I ask, because I have a feeling she always knows. I’ve been in Star Mountain longenough to feel like it’s my home, and I want to know what’s going on.
“I was just discussing with Molly here that Hank Russell’s hardware store is closing,” Ronda explains.
A blonde woman, who I assume must be Molly, turns around and says, “It’s a real shame, but he just can’t compete with the big box stores any longer and he’s nearly eighty. He’s happy to retire and rent the place out instead.” She points across the street, and I see that the hardware shop indeed has a permanently closed sign on it.
“Aw, that’s sad. I hate when small businesses close down.”
“Well, he’s already said that he’ll only rent it to someone local. He wants another small business in there,” Molly supplies.
“I want a damn clothing boutique,” Ronda grumbles. “Or something with a little color in it. Something fun.”
“Why? You always wear the same thing anyways,” Molly points out rudely.
“I do not! I’ll have you know that under this coat, I’m wearing a very nice outfit.”
The two ladies bicker back and forth, and Ronda even unzips her puffer coat to show Molly her fluffy blue sweater. The line moves up, and with the pastry case now in view, I start thinking about what I want.
I order a coffee and something called a canelé, which Aimee tells me is one of the best French pastries, and one of the most difficult to perfect. As soon as I take my first bite, I can tell that she’s got it right. The outside is dark and caramelized, and the inside is a chewy vanilla custard. I have to stop myself from moaning in the cafe, which is jam packed with people. I take another bite, and as I’m chewing, my phone rings.
It’s Shelley. I swallow hastily, and then answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“I’ve got good news, Winnie,” Shelley says, direct and to the point as always.
“You do?” My heart hammers in my chest and I suck down a breath. Good news could be something small, I remind myself.
“I do. The judge is dismissing your parents’ case. It’s over, Winnie. You did it.”
I take another shuddering breath and say, “Shelley, I’d kiss you if you were here right now. You have no idea what you’ve done for me.”
“I did nothing aside from lay out your case clearly. The law did the rest. But that’s the other thing I wanted to ask you about. Are you interested in suing them?”
“What? Why? Do I need to?” I feel stupid not knowing how any of this works, but I guess that’s why I pay Shelley $300 an hour.
