Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,10

probably woke the dead, but then the neighbors had called the cops. Before the sirens and flashing lights, I remember feeling completely exhausted and laying down in the cool grass because it felt good on my hot, tear-stained cheeks.

The liquid courage I drank prior to going over there probably hadn’t helped the situation.

And even though I landed myself in jail, I felt better. That time, my daddy bailed me out pretty quick. I was barely there long enough for the whiskey to wear off. He just drove me home and told me to go back to bed.

A week later, after I ran into Asher and Mindy at the bank, I went straight home and ran around the house like a crazy person, gathering everything that belonged to him. Clothes left in the closet, shoes left in the garage, his stupid baseball magazines—I piled them all up in the driveway and lit the sons of bitches on fire.

Apparently, the Homeowner's Association frowns on fires in the driveway.

“All fires must be contained in a fire pit, fireplace, or grill,” Mr. Ramirez, the HEA president, had said.

Is this still the fucking south?

Can’t people burn shit if they want to, damn it?

That time, I only received a citation and a hefty fine of two hundred and fifty dollars, which initiated my next run-in with the law.

I figured that since all of this was Asher’s fault in the first place, he should have to pay my fine. So, while he and the missus were at work one day, after I finished up my Duchess of Muffin duties at the bakery, I drove over and broke in the back door of his new house and stole his pride and joy—an autographed football from the University of Alabama National Championship team.

Rammer jammer, my ass!

I’d like to have rammed that football up Asher’s ass, but instead, I hocked it.

I know all of these incidents—episodes … whatever you want to call them—make me sound exactly how everyone labels me these days—crazy, unstable, scorned—but at the time, my actions seemed completely logical. I’m not even mad anymore, really, just hurt. I’m also sorry I wasted all those years putting him on a pedestal, because he never deserved it.

“Tell you what I’m going to do,” Judge Carson finally says, bringing my attention back to him. “I’m going to fine you the minimum five hundred dollar fine, plus …” he says, pausing. His bushy, gray eyebrows furrowing as he looks at me. “Twenty-four hours of anger management. You can either find a class or I’ll appoint one for you.”

I swallow, partially grateful and partially pissed off. I don’t have an anger problem. I have an Asher Williams problem, and as soon as he’s out of my life, everything will go back to normal.

“Is that understood, Miss Cassidy?” he asks, waiting for me to acknowledge his decree.

I nod, swallowing again. “Yes, sir.”

“And if I see you back in my courtroom again, I won’t be as lenient next time.”

As we’re walking out, my mama on one side and my daddy on the other, she lets out a huge sigh of relief. “Praise the Lord. See, I told you, prayer works. That could’ve gone so much worse, Tempest. God was looking out for you today,” she says, squeezing my hand and adding under her breath, “and every other day for the past three months.”

“Yes, Mama,” I say, placating her until I can get to the solace of my house. Even though it feels tainted with memories of Asher and Mindy, it’s still mine, for now, and the only place I feel like I can go these days without people staring at me. Although, I have moved into the spare bedroom downstairs, hardly going upstairs in the past three months.

“We should celebrate,” she says as we approach the parking lot. “Butch, take us for steaks. It’s been a while since we’ve been to the Front Porch. I think today calls for a nice supper. And Lord knows I’m too exhausted to even think about cooking.”

I bite my cheek and let out a deep exhale through my nose, willing my patience to hold out a little while longer.

My daddy walks to the car and opens the passenger door for her. Before he opens the rear door for me, he pauses, leaning on the hood. “You wanna grab a bite to eat?”

“As lovely as a nice steak dinner sounds,” I manage. “I really just want to go home.” I try to put on a convincing smile but he