“Zip it, sister!” the crazy man called Tex interrupted her on a bellow. “You’re not stealin’ my new kitty thunder with your attitude either!”

“I’m not stealing your new kitty thunder!” she shouted back. “I’m trying to retain customers so I can buy that new pair of cowboy boots Lee says I can’t have because I already have fifteen pairs.”

“Like you’re hurtin’. This store turns over a shitload and your husband’s rollin’ in it,” Tex retorted.

“And like she cares Lee says she can’t have them,” Mom and I heard whispered from our sides, this coming from a pretty blonde lady who had a smile that made her a knockout. “She already bought those boots. She just wants Tex to pipe down and not freak people out.”

Mom and I looked in unison to the silent standoff Tex and the redhead were having with their eyes, but we looked back to the blonde when she spoke again.

“And it isn’t about his mood,” she said. “He’s worried about your bandage. It doesn’t look like it, but he’s a ladies’ man in the good kind of way, really protective, and he doesn’t like what he sees. He doesn’t know you but he does know people like his coffee, and since that’s all he can give, he gave it. So really, he’s just a big, crazy, kinda scary softie.”

She delivered that, then she swiped up a used mug that had been there when we sat there and took off.

“Don’t ya just love this place?” we heard from the table in the corner that was on the other side of us and our heads swung that way. “These people are freakin’ loco,” the woman there went on. “You never know the shenanigans they’ll get up to. Honestly, and I know this’ll say it all, I don’t actually come here for the coffee. That’s just the icing on the cake. I come here for the floorshow. It never disappoints.”

She lifted her foamy-topped latte our way and turned back to the book she was not-so-much reading.

I looked to Mom.

Her eyes drifted to me.

And then we burst out laughing.

In the midst of it, we heard boomed, “See! Look at those bitches now, Indy Nightingale! My work is done!”

So of course we laughed harder.

Chapter Seven

World

Rosalie

I was kinda embarrassed that I essentially watched out the window, waiting for Snapper since around five minutes after he texted to say he’d picked up the food and was on his way.

And when he arrived, still watching, I was totally shocked when he got out of his truck and went around to the passenger side to nab two plastic bags stuffed with stacked food containers.

There had to be enough food in those to feed six people.

I didn’t know what he’d read (and was beyond caring) when I opened the front door way before he got close to it. Snapper probably already caught me watching through the window (I’d be hard to miss) so it didn’t matter anyway.

But really, I was just glad he was there and I didn’t care he knew it.

“You should have parked in the garage, Mulder,” I told him when he was six feet away.

“I don’t have a remote, Scully,” he replied.

“You don’t have a remote to your own garage?” I asked.

He made it to me and I stepped aside for him and his two bags to get through.

And he did this saying, “It’s your garage, Rosie.”

“I don’t even have a rental agreement.”

Snap had no reply to that.

He just walked to the kitchen.

I closed the door and followed him, asking, “Is the whole Club coming over for dinner?”

He dumped the bags on the countertop, turned, shrugging off his cut to toss it also on the counter, revealing a skintight cream thermal that was drool-worthy, and grinned at me. “I wanted you to have what you wanted so I bought everything you said you liked, but before you get grateful on me, I had an ulterior motive since Indian leftovers are the shit.”

I loved the first part of that and he was right about the second part, so I smiled back.

He started undoing the tied handles of the bags while I decided not to get stuck on the fact that it was a hair down day for Snapper, and I liked it, as well as the fact that he was letting his beard grow in, though it was still longer at the chin, and the way the growth was progressing looked crazy-good on him.

Instead, I tore my eyes away from his unique brand of handsomeness and got out plates, cutlery, and beers.

“You have a good time with your mom?” he asked, taking out the containers, lining them up on the counter and flipping them open.

“We always have a good time,” I answered.

“She’s pretty awesome,” he murmured.

She was.

I was just thrilled to know he thought she was.

“She likes you too,” I shared.

His head turned my way and the expression on his face told me this sounded like a throwaway conversation, but it was anything but to Snapper. He wanted my mom to like him because he wanted a future with me.

“Good,” he said.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and grabbed some spoons, shoving them in the containers as Snap opened them.

We dished up, grabbed our beers, and headed to my couch. I settled in, ready to tuck in, feeling nervous and shy.