Full speed ahead in the commitment and feelings department.
He called when I was putting vegetables into the crisper.
“What are you doing?” he asked in way of greeting.
“Stocking your refrigerator. Have you ever heard of a vegetable?”
He paused for a second and then he said, “You’re putting groceries in my refrigerator?”
I swore I could hear his grin in his tone.
“Yes.”
“Domestic.
“I don’t want you to die from lack of vitamins. The Old Ladies have been too soft on you. Casseroles and lasagnas are delicious, but you need some leafy greens in your life.”
“Woman,” he grumbled. “If you make me eat spinach, I will make your life a living hell.”
“It’s just because I want you to live a long time,” I protested.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “If you make it, I’ll try it.”
“Deal.”
Excitement fluttered in my belly at our banter.
“So, do you miss me yet?” he teased. When I didn’t reply fast enough for his liking, he pressed, “Linden?”
“Yeah,” I croaked. “I miss you.”
“Are we gonna talk about shit when I get home?”
“What kind of shit?” I evaded.
“The kind of shit that starts with L and ends with OVE.”
“Oh look, the oven timer is dinging. Gotta go. Ride safe!” I quickly hung up with him and set my phone aside on the counter like it was a snake that wanted to lurch up and bite me.
A few hours later, with big curls, heavy lipstick, and tight jeans, I called a cab from Boxer’s place. Shelly’s was a brick building, with a large parking lot and a bright neon sign. When I entered the bar, the vintage jukebox was playingThe Waitingby Tom Petty, and the women behind the bar were twirling bottles and lighting shots on fire.
I looked through the cluster of people and found Freddy at the pool table, nursing a bottle of beer and talking to a tall, broad, dark-haired man with heavily tatted arms that bulged with muscles beneath his army green T-shirt.
“Hey,” I greeted as I approached.
Freddy turned to look at me and grinned, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Linden, meet Roman.”
Roman held out his hand as his warm brown eyes swept over me. “So, this is Boxer’s woman.”
I rolled my eyes. “Does everyone in this town know Boxer?”
“Most of the women do,” Roman said with a grin.
“Shut up, Roman,” Freddy said with a laugh. “Linden is aware of Boxer’s reputation, but they’re committed now.”
“How committed?” Roman inquired. “Committed like, I’ll be seeing you in my chair and inking you?”
Frowning, I looked to Freddy for an explanation.