But when the loss was raw, it tore the wound wider.
“Thanks,” I replied shakily.
Krystal knew my kind. She saw exactly where I was at.
“You need a beer,” she decreed, pulling her hand away.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”
Jim-Billy moved and he didn’t stop short of touching me. He took my hand on the bar and gave it a lovely squeeze before letting it go.
I gave him a lame smile.
I’d done right, picking that crazy house in this crazy town with these crazy people.
So right.
Krys came back with my beer.
I kept on mission.
“If you guys could, you know, not lie but not spread it around. I’ll share and all. If you know Shambles and Sunny from La-La Land, well, they listened to my stuff so they already knew me, obviously, before we met the other day. But, you know, a little bit more of that peace would work for me.”
“Babe, you’re gonna get peace. Any motherfucker fucks with your peace, they got my buckshot in their ass,” Krystal declared.
My eyes got wide.
“Not to scare you or anything,” Jim-Billy leaned toward me and stage-whispered. “But she ain’t jokin’.”
“Damn straight,” Krystal said and indicated my draft with a quick movement of her ebony-flame-tipped-haired head. “Holler, you need a refill.”
She wandered off.
“Bubba shoulda knocked her up years ago,” Jim-Billy noted, watching her go.
I shook off the emotion their kindness left with me and gave him a grin.
It wasn’t the pregnancy.
It was and it wasn’t.
It was just that Krystal, as hard as she was on the outside, was not stupid.
She, too, recognized bounty.
And it felt fucking awesome she saw it in me.
Chapter Five
Bad Timing
Justice
My phone ringing Monday morning woke me.
I reached out blindly, knocked it off the nightstand, mumbled, “Damn, shit, fuck,” as I pushed to hang off the edge of the bed and grab it.
I remained hanging over the edge of the bed as I looked at the screen telling me it was just after six and the number calling was local but not programmed in.
Damn these mountain folk. With all that quiet and nature and peace, why did they get up so fucking early?
I’d programmed in Max’s number. Jim-Billy’s. Krystal’s.
This one…whoever it was, I didn’t know.
I took the call and put the phone to my ear.
“’Lo,” I muttered.
“Jus. Deke,” his deep voice reverberated in my ear.
Sleepily, and agreeably, I felt that reverberation in my pussy.
I was enjoying that as Deke’s alert, attractive morning voice kept coming at me.
“Max got your text about the glaze you want. He’s got shit on today…”
Deke continued speaking about picking up materials, the fact I needed to select a color for the paint for the utility room, how Max couldn’t get the supplies to the house until Tuesday afternoon, and other stuff about Deke having more than enough to do in the meantime but my utility room was going to have to be delayed. This information coming at me included the option of Deke going that morning to pick up the stuff, which would mean he’d be late getting to my place.
There was also something about Bubba coming to help him on Wednesday when he was going to blow insulation into the rafters so my heat didn’t escape out the roof, something he stated was priority.
It was a lot of words, especially from Deke. And I liked listening to them, especially the way his voice sounded and the fact it was sounding over the phone in the morning after he’d called me.
But unfortunately he stopped talking.
Though I’d find he didn’t stop talking.
I’d just let his voice lull me back to semi-sleep, hanging over the side of the bed.
“Yo! Jus! You there?” I heard him bark.
My body jerked, I blinked and put a hand to the floor to push myself up into the bed.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m listening.”
Nothing from Deke and I thought I’d lost him right before I heard him mutter, “Jesus, the gypsy princess fell asleep fuckin’ talkin’ to me.”
“I only fell semi-asleep,” I corrected. “I’m fully awake now,” I shared (partial lie, I was only mostly awake).
Another mutter of, “Jesus.” Then, “I’ll let you get your beauty rest and go pick up the shit.”
“No,” I said, this part groggy, part desperate. “I like progress. You’re so fast and so good, four hours of lost progress could mean anything. You could have the kitchen done in four hours.” That was an exaggeration, but whatever. Slightly groggy thoughts of a kitchen were dancing merrily in my head as I finished, “So no way I wanna lose four hours.”
“Be at your place at eleven, eleven thirty and you’ll get progress,” Deke replied, obliterating my merry kitchen thoughts.
“How about you be at my place at the normal hour, tell me where to go to get the shit and then I’ll go pick it up so Max doesn’t have to waste his time to see to that errand.”
“So she did hear me,” Deke replied, though he did it like he wasn’t actually talking to me.
“Like I said, dude, semi-asleep.”
“Whatever.”
I lounged on my side on my bed but I did it feeling the amusement laced in his one word not only in my pussy, but also several elsewheres and those elsewheres were not (all) erogenous zones.