Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, angrily swiping at the wetness leaking from my eyes. I look out my office window toward the brightly lit garage floor and contemplate my next move.

That’s a lie. I don’t think about a dang thing. I drain the last of my beer, grab my purse—a sweet black leather find I got at Coach the other weekend—and make quick work of turning off all the lights that the guys left on when they scattered. Gravel crunches and grinds under my steel-toed-cowboy-booted feet when I spin from the shop door and look down Main Street. It’s only seven at night on a Friday, but like clockwork, most of the businesses around are dark and closed for the night. There’s only one that I care about, though, and the bright-ass glow spilling from the front windows into the dusk around it makes me quicken my steps.

I hear my name right when I reach for the door to the PieHole, but I’m a woman on a mission. I burst into Leighton’s bakery with determination and look for her blond head behind the counter.

“Jesus Christ, Hell-raiser. You got the hounds of hell hot on your heels or somethin’?”

I spin around at the sound of Maverick, my other brother, laughing behind me as he catches up.

“Shut up, Cowboy. I’m in a mood, and right now if you’ve got a twig and berries between your legs, you’re the enemy. Where is my girl?”

Both of his dark brows go up at the clear venom in my tone and he takes just the barest step back. Maverick might be a retired professional bull rider, but I would be willing to bet he’d rather take on a big-ass bull again then deal with a pissed-off female any day.

Smart man.

“I’m thinkin’ this means I’m not takin’ my girl out on a date tonight?”

“You’re thinkin’ right,” I confirm, hooking my hand on my hip, just begging him to try and stand in my way.

“Got it. Tell Leigh I’ll be at home,” he concedes with a sigh, turning and reaching for the door we had both just entered through moments before. With one muddied boot already outside, his body stills and he looks over his shoulder at me. “If you need me, little sister, all you gotta do is holler.”

I nod, not trusting the turbulent emotions roaring around inside me enough to actually allow me to speak, but he can see everything in my eyes. Maverick always can. His free hand comes up and he lovingly taps his knuckles against my chin before walking out of the PieHole.

Ignoring the handful of townsfolk still scattered around the room enjoying an evening slice of pie, I walk through the cutout in the counter, past Avonlee, the high school girl Leighton hired to help out part-time, and straight into the kitchen. She’s used to me, thankfully, so she doesn’t even bat an eye at my boldness. It’s always been our way.

“Hey Quinn!” Jana Fox, Leighton’s longtime employee and manager of the PieHole, chirps.

I shake my head. “You are way too happy, Jana. Seriously, it’s just not right.”

She waves me off, laughing softly as her gray ringlets dance around her face. I kid you not: the woman is in her fifties and rocks a hairstyle that would rival Shirley Temple’s.

“Uh-oh,” she says in response, a twinkle in her eye. “You have that look about you, sweet child. Who is he? Don’t tell me you didn’t learn a thing or two from your brother and Leighton last year. In the meantime, though, while you get your head all screwed on, I just started sellin’ those sexy toys that all you youngsters are playin’ with if you need some help with your hooha. You really shouldn’t let that kinda frustration fester.”

“Jana!” Leigh shouts from her office. “Boundaries!”

I let out a laugh that feels like the emotional release I’ve been cravin’ ever since settin’ eyes on that damn piece of paper. In addition to being the best bakery manager this side of Texas, Jana also happens to be quite . . . enlightened for a woman of her age. And not shy about lettin’ all of us younger ones know it, every chance she gets.

“She thinks I will somehow understand where these invisible lines of hers are if she keeps bellowing that word, but I’m too old to change my ways. Plus, you kids have too many ‘boundaries’ as it is.”

“I’m thinkin’ you might have a different understanding of that word, Jana.” I laugh sarcastically.

“Oh, hogwash.”

I roll my eyes, some of the dark feelings inside of me slinking away in the face of Jana’s overwhelming cheer. I ignore the rumble in my stomach when I pass my fridge—the special one that Leigh always makes sure is stocked with my favorite pies.

“Oh, shit,” Leigh screeches right before we almost collide. I was so busy lusting over a kitchen appliance that I didn’t see that she had come to stand in her office doorway, and I almost knocked right into her.

“Got a second?”

“Always,” she answers without an ounce of hesitation.

“I sent Maverick away,” I confess, pulling her into the office and shutting the door.

“And he let you?”

“He wasn’t gonna argue with me.”

She laughs softly. “You have to stop threatening his manhood.” I narrow my eyes and she holds her hands up. “What? I happen to be quite fond of it.”

“There are so many things wrong about that statement. Besides, I didn’t threaten his . . . manhood. I just needed my best friend.” Thrusting out my hand, I wait for her to hold hers out before unclenching the tight fist I clamped around that stupid piece of paper. I glance at it briefly as it falls into her waiting grasp and see that the ink has started to spider from my sweaty palms, but even so, there’s no mistaking the name scratched on it.

Leigh’s eyes widen as she reads it. “Oh . . . shit.”

I nod. “Yeah. Shit. That ’bout covers it.”

She looks up from the paper, holds my gaze for a beat, and then looks back down. “Are you going to call him?”

“Are you going to ask stupid questions?”

“It’s not stupid, Q! He called the shop. The shop. He might have been gone for a long damn time, but there’s no way he forgot who owns Davis Auto Works. Even if he really is just looking to get some work done on his shit, he called your shop. You were really upset when he never came back after that summer. Maybe, if anything, you can get some closure with this call.”

I feel a little bad knowing that she doesn’t understand the whole picture—something I’m reminded of when she plays down the heartbreaking pain I felt when he all but vanished. Of course, that’s what happens when you keep things from your best friend.

“There’s a good chance he doesn’t know it’s mine now, you know. The last time I talked to him I had just started working there full-time. For all he knows I don’t even live in this town anymore, let alone own my family’s shop. Anyway, I think it’s past time for closure.”

“That’s a load of bullshit and we both know it. You guys burned mighty hot that summer, Q. You let it mark you. Hell, you keep letting it mark you, even now, refusing to let yourself get close to a man.”