Before I can answer him, Scarlett knocks on the door. “Wilder, the event organiser just arrived. You want me to handle her?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Her lips pull into the easiest smile I’ve ever seen on her. “No problem.” The smile disappears as she looks at King and says, “You’re back in town. Staying long?”
King’s eyes darken. “I’ve just worked out why Wilder keeps you around. You’re a ray of fucking sunshine.”
Her glare is stronger than any glare she’s ever given me. And that’s saying something because I cop some filthy ones. “They didn’t warn me you were coming. If they had, I’d have made sure to bring all my sunny friends with me today so we could brighten your day.”
Christ, this is about to get out of hand.
“Scarlett,” I mutter. “Go speak with the event organiser.”
With one last glare at King, she leaves us.
King looks at me, eyes still dark. “Remind me again why you keep her on.”
This is something I ask myself every now and then. Scarlett’s a handful on a good day and hell on a bad one, but she’s damn good at her job. And as much as I could do without her constant arguing and her moods, I admire her grit and determination and fighting spirit. I also like that she’s unapologetically herself. Scarlett doesn’t try to be like everyone else. I never know for sure what I’m gonna get with her. I like people like that.
“She gets shit done that I ask her to do and she gets it done well,” I say to King as Scott joins us. “As for your other question about the break-in, I’ve got some thoughts.”
Scott eyes me. “Ostelin’s crew?”
I nod. “Yeah. What are your thoughts?”
“That it was either them or the Carlton boys.”
“We’ll call around and see them tomorrow,” King says casually, like he’s gonna pop the fuck in for a cup of tea with them.
Scott nods and then jabs his thumb over his shoulder at the doorway. “I just saw Scarlett being nice as fuckin’ pie to some woman out there. Did you bribe her?”
“You shouldn’t be so surprised,” Harlow says, coming into the office and sliding her arm around her husband’s waist. She looks up at him as he drapes his arm over her shoulders. “You guys do know that Scarlett would do anything for your restaurants, right?”
“Being nice to people is usually a stretch for her,” Scott says.
“She’s not not nice to people, Scott. She’s sparing with her warmth, is all.”
King pins his gaze to Harlow. “You mean she’s a cold-ass bitch.”
Harlow gives him a look. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. She’s loyal, and if there’s one thing you all want from the people you work with, it’s loyalty. Stop being surprised when she gives you that.”
King’s phone buzzes with a text, and as he pulls it out of his pocket, he says to Harlow, “I’ll be over for poker night tomorrow. You making your potato bake?”
“Only if you get Lily to send me her recipe for that chocolate cake she makes.”
He grimaces. “Fuck, the chances of me getting anything out of that woman right now are low. I’d have better luck trying to figure out how to make my own fucking potato bake.”
“I’ll send you my recipe,” Harlow says with a grin as he makes a move to leave us.
After King leaves, Scott says, “Good work today, brother.”
I nod. “Yeah, we got shit done.”
Scott glances down at his old lady. “That hangover worn off? You ready to face the kids yet?”
She groans, still looking as seedy as she did this morning. “I want to say yes to both those questions, but it’s hard to get the word out. Why do hangovers feel so much worse when you have kids?”
He chuckles. “Baby, you didn’t have the kids today. You can’t blame feeling like shit on them.”
“Maybe your mum could keep them overnight.”
“No, I’ll take care of everything tonight.”
She smiles up at him. “Including me? Will you run me a bath, and massage my feet, and—”
“Including you, but let’s not get carried the fuck away here.”
“You love me, Scott Cole, and we all know you’ll massage my feet if I beg you to.” She puts her hand to his chest. “Take me home so we can get closer to me begging for that.”
With a shake of his head and a glance in my direction that tells me he knows as well as I do that his wife is right, he says, “See you tomorrow night.”
These two remind me of my parents. Maybe it’s that Harlow is a country girl, and my parents are both country born and bred. She handles Scott the same way my mother does my father: with old school love and respect. The kind where loyalty is assumed, promises made are always kept, and hearts are treated with extreme care. And he gives all of that and more back to her like my father does to my mother. Love isn’t a throwaway phrase for them; it’s a practice.
I grab my phone off the desk after Scott and Harlow leave and go looking for Scarlett.
I find her in the kitchen, sitting in the corner on the upside-down milk crate she’s designated as hers. Legs crossed, head down, AirPods in, she doesn’t see me coming, so I take the opportunity to appreciate her curves one last time. After this, I’m going cold turkey. Fuck, I’m hoping I wake up tomorrow and we’re back to normal programming.
Today has been a shitshow of shit I’d rather forget. This morning with Taylor; the break-in here; the clean-up; the mad rush to refurbish the restaurant; Scarlett’s mood swings from snarky to friendly-like-I’ve-not-ever-experienced; my inability to keep my eyes off her body. There’s a lot of shit to move on from.
I pull up the spare crate and sit next to her.
Her eyes meet mine and she pulls out her AirPods. “I’m just taking a minute.”
I nod, feeling a weird pull to make conversation with her. “What are you listening to?”
She can’t hide her surprise. She never can. Scarlett wasn’t built that way. Her heart might not be an open book, but her body is. She wears the feelings she works so hard to conceal. “I’ll tell you what I’m not listening to and that’s the country shit you love.”
My lips curl up at the ends. “I didn’t ask what you’re not listening to. I asked what you are listening to.”
“What is this, Wilder?”
“What’s what?”
She motions at the space between us. “This. You never just sit in here with me and ask me random questions like this. Did you fall and hit your head?”
I rest my back and head against the wall and suck in a deep breath, feeling every bit of the exhaustion in my body. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired and I feel like I’ve run a fuckin’ marathon.” I turn my face to her. “I figure you’re feeling all that too.”
Her brows arch and she shoots me a “what the actual fuck” look. “I think you did hit your head and you just don’t know it.”
I chuckle. Scarlett’s snark amuses me as much as it pushes my buttons. “Take the day off tomorrow.”
“I’m not taking the day off. There’s too much to do.”