Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2) by Bijou Hunter Page B

busy
staring down the old man.
    “What’s his problem?” Zeb asks me.
    “He’s protecting me.”
    “What’s wrong with you that you need a
kid to protect you?”
    “Nothing. I’m perfectly capable of
beating the shit out of you. He just doesn’t know that.”
    “Do you think you could take me?” Zeb
asks, grinning and stroking his bicep. “I used to box.”
    “So did I, and my boxing occurred this
century.”
    “You’re rude kids.”
    “That’s likely genetic,” I grunt right
back.
    “Tell your mama that I said hi. I’ll
come by one day when your thug father ain’t around. He isn’t living there, is
he?”
    “Yes, in fact, he is,” Justice
immediately says. “The lovers are inseparable. If you go looking for Christine,
you’re bound to find Jared.”
    “But not the fat ex-husband,” Zeb says,
noticing Poppy’s return.
    Poppy dramatically stomps her foot on
the ground. “He has a glandular problem.”
    “Did you get it too? I notice you’re a
little too round in the face.”
    “I’m sixteen, you walking pubic hair.
If I kill you, I’ll get locked up for a few years and then have my record
scrubbed. Call me fat again and I’m heading to juvenile hall.”
    Laughing at her rage, Zeb steps into
the road and waves at someone across the street.
    “You’re a fricking idiot,” I tell
Justice.
    “How do you figure, Eyebrows?”
    “Now everyone in town will think Mom
and Dad are together.”
    “So what? If either of them gets mad,
I’ll tell them Matilda put me up to it. Who can be angry at this face?” she
asks, lightly pinching the girl’s cheeks. “No one, I tell you. She’s my get out
of jail card.”
    Matilda smiles at me, and I can’t help
returning it. My gaze flashes to Zeb on the other side of the road where he’s
already telling people our business. I see him pointing at us, and the other
guy laughs. Christine and Jared will not be happy.

20 Snake Charmers
    Journey
     
     
    U sually, my lunch periods are low-key.
When I first started my job, the other staff invited me to eat with them. I’d
always decline. Christine often told me how a person needs time in their head
if they want to exist happily in the world. Lunchtime is my head time.
    These days, I mostly daydream about
Donovan and Otto. One has gotten under my skin. The other is my responsibility.
They’re both expecting more from me than I’d like to offer.
    My life for too long has revolved
around my sisters and mother. Just them. Just the four of us. No one else.
    Now I have Jared and Court and Felix
and Otto and Matilda and Donovan, and it’s too damn much.
    I’m lazy, I guess. Set in my ways like
my grandparents who complain about the same crap they’ve been bitching about
since Christine was a kid. Is that really who I hope to be?
    Of course, I should change, but I don’t
want to. The stubborn, likely immature, part of me wants to wait to see if I
can get what I want without having to give anything up.
    Days without any concrete messages,
Donovan sends me a text asking to visit for lunch. I consider not responding
until it’s too late for him to show up. It’s a coward move, and I’m not a
coward. Still, I’m fricking tempted to avoid something that might not go well.
    Whenever I think of seeing Donovan, I
become edgy and want to bail. I fantasize about how much better it’d be to stay
home with my family. Or how awkward conversation with him will be. I think of a
million reasons why I don’t want to hang out with him.
    Then I see him, and I hate for him to
leave. Every time, I’m surprised by how addictive I find him. I promise myself
to relax more next time. Except I don’t. I do what I’m doing now by wishing he
hadn’t texted, and we weren’t meeting. I dream of a lunch where I’m alone with
my thoughts or can watch TV shows on my phone. Donovan again feels like an
inconvenience.
    Until he walks through the door and I’m
stuck on him again. Even before he touches me, Donovan has my stomach