Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
My heart skipped a beat.
“Her mom?” I asked.
“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “The little girl said that she was going to visit a woman over at the Bridge. I guess I assumed it was her mom. I thought you might’ve caused the whole lot to drop since they were both in the same box.”
I was already nodding my head. “I did. You can add one of those to the order as well.”
“The little girl said that the buttercream one is her favorite,” she sighed wistfully. “They’re all my favorites, but this one is definitely one of my mom’s best.”
“Your mom owns this place?” I asked as I pulled out money to pay.
“Yes,” she said. “We moved in here about a month ago. It’s great. Much better than our last location out of our house.”
Her teasing tone had me grinning.
“I’m sure,” I said as I spied a snickerdoodle cookie that had my name on it. “Can I have a dozen of those, too?”
She looked at the cookies and then nodded. “Sure thing.”
“Y’all see that little girl a lot?” I questioned. “I had the impression that she was here quite a bit.”
“Every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.” She smiled. “One o’clock, on the dot. They’re here to visit her mom who’s over at the mental health facility next door.”
“Does she work there?” I questioned, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I don’t honestly know,” she admitted. “I haven’t been able to get that information out of her. The moment she starts getting talkative, her uncle shuts her up with a stern look.”
Uncle.
Oh, holy shit.
What the hell was going on here?
“Well, I appreciate you helping me,” I said as I held out the crisp one-hundred-dollar bill to her. “I want to make sure I get the girl this cookie and cupcake before visiting hours are over next door. I hope you have a good one.”
The teen smiled as she counted out change. “You, too.”
Instead of parking it on the bench right outside the door, I walked around to the side of the bakery and took a seat in the seating area and waited.
It took them another twenty-six minutes to get there but get there they did.
At first, Tyson didn’t see me.
His face was clouded with something I couldn’t decipher, and he looked upset.
The kid did, too.
She was about five to six years old, and a little bit of a thing.
Hell, I would’ve guessed she was younger if it wasn’t for the chattering she was doing, as well as the non-baby look to her. Her face was skinny, and her limbs were delicate and fine. There was no baby fat on her at all like there would’ve been if she were younger.
“I want to stay longer next time,” the girl pouted.
“I’m sorry, Linnie,” Tyson said. “But you know that we can’t. Rules are rules.”
Linnie grumbled something under her breath and then stopped to pick up a rock that was on the ground next to the fence. “I like this one, I’ll save it for Theo.”
Tyson came to a sudden halt the moment he looked up and spotted me sitting there, staring directly at him.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he looked like he’d just tasted something foul.
And was that fear that I could see on his face?
He looked down at the little girl beside him and went ashen.
“Linnie, darlin’,” Tyson said. “Why don’t you run into the bakery and use the potty. We’re going to stop at the grocery store on the way home and they don’t have a bathroom.”
The little girl did as he said without protest, and then we were left alone. Which was weird. There was zero hesitation. No backtalk. No ‘can I have another cookie while I’m in there.’ No nothing.
That wasn’t normal for a child.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Tyson knew exactly who I was.
He knew because he’d seen me around town. Had met me when all the shit had gone down between his brother and a friend and fellow club member, Linc James.
Yes, that Linc James.
The professional football player who was so pretty it hurt.
At least, that was what I’d heard, anyway.
“I’m curious,” I admitted. “That, and we’re working right over there.”
He looked over his shoulder at the trucks that had the line almost replaced, then back at me.
He didn’t buy that I was there and so conveniently placed.
Whatever.
I wasn’t.
When he still didn’t speak, I leaned forward.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I ordered.
Tyson looked away, his face going to the door of the asylum he’d just come out of.
The little girl came back just as quickly as she’d left, and Tyson sighed. Bleeping the locks on his Mercedes, he gestured for the little girl to go to it.
“Get in and buckle your seat belt before you start watching the television,” he instructed the little girl.
There was no argument from Linnie. No nothing.