The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,103

a tree hugger too. I bet you’re even a pacifist.”

I chew, then answer. “I like trees. I like veggies. I like protein. I like peace. So sue me.”

He cracks up after he finishes his bite. “Just giving you a hard time, man. I dig trees too, and peace is cool. But I am also a burger and bread man, and nothing is going to change that.”

I shrug with a smile. “I say potato.”

“I do not say po-tah-to,” he says indignantly, making the second syllable rhyme with ha. He grabs a french fry. “But I definitely say ‘french fry.’ I also say you can indulge in a fry now and then, Mr. I-Have-a-Twelve-Pack,” he says, mocking me.

I pretend to check out my abs. “Yup. Definitely a dozen lady-killing abs working overtime underneath this here shirt.”

We laugh and joke as we finish our lunches.

This is good. It feels like I can settle into this town with guys like Hunter. I don’t know where I’ll wind up long-term, or if I’ll ever stay in one spot. But for now, with my sister and the rug rats and the guys from work, Lucky Falls feels doable.

Except for the little issue of living with Perri.

That’s not a long-term solution. Living with a chick you want to bang is more complicated than I’d thought.

Or maybe it’s just that living with a woman at all is complex. They’re like those math riddles on standardized tests—if a train leaves at noon, and there are ten passengers, which one is Mr. Red? And the answer is five, or who the fuck knows.

I figured she’d get a kick out of yesterday’s new chalkboard note, but nope. She didn’t even respond to it this morning.

That afternoon, we’re called to what Hunter tells me is a regular’s home.

“Mrs. Jones has emphysema. We take her in a couple times a year. She’s a sweet old bird, but she still smokes.”

I shake my head. “Wish that shit didn’t even exist.”

“We can agree on that for sure.”

After we take her to the hospital, Hunter tells me he needs to make a quick phone call, and that he’ll meet me at the van.

As I exit the hospital, I spot a police cruiser pulling up, and the possibility that it might be Perri has me more excited than I care to admit.

The driver cuts the engine and steps out, and, oh yeah, there she is.

Looking edible.

I wait outside, enjoying the view of her walking toward me. The way her uniform fits her gets my blood going. Maybe she’ll respond to my note now. Her face is impassive, though, and her eyes are obscured by her aviators.

“Hey, officer.” I wink. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “It is the hospital. I’m here from time to time.”

“And what brings you in today?”

“I need to take some additional statements for my report on the three-car accident,” she says.

“I don’t think I was called to that one. Any serious injuries?”

“Broken arm only, but there are some issues I need to dig into.”

“Good luck with the issues.”

“Indeed.”

Indeed? What the hell? Are we operating on an indeed level now? I step aside, and she strides by, nodding. “Gotta go.”

Then she turns and heads through the sliding doors.

I scratch my head, get into the van, and wait for Hunter. When he slides into the driver’s seat, I say, “Women, right?”

Hunter nods, even without any context. “Women.”

Some days, that’s all you can say.

Women are just too hard to figure out.

Especially when they give no flirty replies to your clever chalkboard messages.

As I get ready to clock out, the boss man strides over to me and parks a hand on my shoulder. “Good work on your second week,” Granger says. “It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”

I smile, since he knows I’ve put in a decade. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

Granger’s expression turns more serious. “Hoping you like it here. We need regulars. We need guys to stick around.”

“Sure,” I answer. What else can I say? My situation hasn't changed since lunch. But this job and this town work for now.

Granger squeezes my shoulder. “Let me know if I can do anything to help you settle in.”

I’m tempted to ask if he knows any long-term places to stay, but I need to handle this Perri awkwardness first. I won’t run without reasoning it out—or trying, at least.

“Thanks. I will.”

I leave, heading to the gym for a workout, where Hunter texts me that the guy with the heart attack is doing better and the ladder fellow