BUTCHER: Wolves MC (Riding With Wolves Book 3) by Faith Winslow Page A
Authors: Faith Winslow
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mind yet. You’ve gotta have some time to digest what you just heard. I want you to take that time, then talk to me. I’ll wait, and I won’t pressure you. Even though we were already together the other night, I’m willing to take a step backwards and take this slow.”
Hm. I really couldn’t argue with reasoning like that.
“Alright,” I said, sliding out of the booth.
Butcher reached into his pocket, pulled out a $10 bill, and set it on the table, underneath his half-full beer. “See ya soon,” he yelled in toward the counter, and both Carrie and the cook smiled and nodded their heads.
We walked to the front of the restaurant, where the old lady behind the cash register said goodbye to Butcher too, then exited.
As soon as we were outside, I realized something and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Wait,” I called out to Butcher, who hadn’t stopped walking and was a few paces ahead.
“Yeah?” he inquired as he turned around.
“We forgot to pay our check,” I answered. I’ve never been much of a thief, and Tellie’s was too quaint an establishment for us to pull a dine n’ dash.
“ We didn’t forget,” Butcher said with an intriguing smile. “I don’t ever pay for food here.”
I cocked my head to the side and gazed at Butcher, perplexed.
“Carrie sure is beautiful, isn’t she?” Butcher asked, walking back towards me. The question seemed to come from out of nowhere, and frankly, it hurt me a bit. Yes, Carrie was beautiful, but I didn’t think it was necessary for Butcher to make such a comment. We weren’t on an official date, but our meeting pertained to dating, and I expected more appropriate behavior from him.
“You mean you and C—?” I started before Butcher cut me off.
“You should have seen her about four years ago though,” Butcher said, as if he didn’t even register the question I’d begun to pose. “She looked nothing like she looks now.”
Butcher walked over to the large window and peered in at the activity going on inside.
“She barely weighed a hundred pounds,” he went on. “Her hair was thin; her teeth were yellow; and she was as pale as a ghost, except for the brown bags under her always-swollen eyes.”
As Butcher was talking, I walked over and joined him and the window and observed Carrie as she went about her work. Yes, she was beautiful, and it was nearly impossible for me to imagine her as Butcher had just described.
“The old gal behind the register is her mom, Dora,” Butcher continued after a brief pause. “She owns the place, and she’s been running it mostly by herself for nearly a decade, since her husband, Tellie, died. I’ve been coming here for about as long, and naturally, developed a friendly connection with Dora over the years.
“Four years ago, Dora came to me with a problem. She was at her wit’s end. She told me that her seventeen-year-old daughter was hooked on drugs, and even though she tried to do everything she could to help her, things were only getting worse. She was afraid that Carrie was gonna end up dead, disabled, or out on the streets—and she wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.
“I’d never told her about my affiliation with the Wolves, of course. But look at her—she runs a successful business, so she isn’t stupid. She was able to put two and two together, and she knew I was the right person to ask.”
When Butcher told me to “look at her,” I knew it wasn’t an instruction, but I glanced at Dora anyway. I hadn’t noticed the similarities between her and Carrie when were in the restaurant, but now that Butcher had pointed out that they were mother and daughter, I couldn’t see how I’d missed it. The two women looked very much alike. And indeed, Dora did look like a wise woman who knew how to take care of business, her family, and herself.
“I told Dora I couldn’t make any promises, but I agreed to help,” Butcher said. “And I actually started helping her that very same
Hm. I really couldn’t argue with reasoning like that.
“Alright,” I said, sliding out of the booth.
Butcher reached into his pocket, pulled out a $10 bill, and set it on the table, underneath his half-full beer. “See ya soon,” he yelled in toward the counter, and both Carrie and the cook smiled and nodded their heads.
We walked to the front of the restaurant, where the old lady behind the cash register said goodbye to Butcher too, then exited.
As soon as we were outside, I realized something and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Wait,” I called out to Butcher, who hadn’t stopped walking and was a few paces ahead.
“Yeah?” he inquired as he turned around.
“We forgot to pay our check,” I answered. I’ve never been much of a thief, and Tellie’s was too quaint an establishment for us to pull a dine n’ dash.
“ We didn’t forget,” Butcher said with an intriguing smile. “I don’t ever pay for food here.”
I cocked my head to the side and gazed at Butcher, perplexed.
“Carrie sure is beautiful, isn’t she?” Butcher asked, walking back towards me. The question seemed to come from out of nowhere, and frankly, it hurt me a bit. Yes, Carrie was beautiful, but I didn’t think it was necessary for Butcher to make such a comment. We weren’t on an official date, but our meeting pertained to dating, and I expected more appropriate behavior from him.
“You mean you and C—?” I started before Butcher cut me off.
“You should have seen her about four years ago though,” Butcher said, as if he didn’t even register the question I’d begun to pose. “She looked nothing like she looks now.”
Butcher walked over to the large window and peered in at the activity going on inside.
“She barely weighed a hundred pounds,” he went on. “Her hair was thin; her teeth were yellow; and she was as pale as a ghost, except for the brown bags under her always-swollen eyes.”
As Butcher was talking, I walked over and joined him and the window and observed Carrie as she went about her work. Yes, she was beautiful, and it was nearly impossible for me to imagine her as Butcher had just described.
“The old gal behind the register is her mom, Dora,” Butcher continued after a brief pause. “She owns the place, and she’s been running it mostly by herself for nearly a decade, since her husband, Tellie, died. I’ve been coming here for about as long, and naturally, developed a friendly connection with Dora over the years.
“Four years ago, Dora came to me with a problem. She was at her wit’s end. She told me that her seventeen-year-old daughter was hooked on drugs, and even though she tried to do everything she could to help her, things were only getting worse. She was afraid that Carrie was gonna end up dead, disabled, or out on the streets—and she wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.
“I’d never told her about my affiliation with the Wolves, of course. But look at her—she runs a successful business, so she isn’t stupid. She was able to put two and two together, and she knew I was the right person to ask.”
When Butcher told me to “look at her,” I knew it wasn’t an instruction, but I glanced at Dora anyway. I hadn’t noticed the similarities between her and Carrie when were in the restaurant, but now that Butcher had pointed out that they were mother and daughter, I couldn’t see how I’d missed it. The two women looked very much alike. And indeed, Dora did look like a wise woman who knew how to take care of business, her family, and herself.
“I told Dora I couldn’t make any promises, but I agreed to help,” Butcher said. “And I actually started helping her that very same
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