Get You Some_To format

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “June, wait up.” I caught up to her easily.

  She didn’t slow her stride. What she did do was glare at me over her shoulder.

  “I can’t believe you would humiliate me, and then expect me to actually talk to you.” She shook her head. “Then I find out my father is out of jail. This is the worst day ever.”

  I grunted. “I honestly thought Judge Beener would let you off. That’s why I suggested to Amanda at Tiny’s to pitch the idea to you. Never in a million years would I have thought that he’d decline you. He accepts every pretty lady’s testimony and almost always drops it for them. If I had any idea at all that he was going to do that to you, I would’ve never suggested it.”

  She snorted. “Pretty words don’t matter when they come out of a rotten mouth.”

  I frowned. “I don’t have a rotten mouth.”

  Whatever the fuck that meant.

  “Maybe, maybe not. What I do know is that you could’ve at least given me something up there, but you didn’t. Instead, you told the judge about my sticker—which incidentally isn’t on my truck any longer—thank you very much—told him I’d been speeding and told him that I was combative. Which I wasn’t.”

  “I said you were argumentative, not combative.”

  “Whatever. Same thing.” She shook her head and sped up.

  “It’s not the same thing,” I disagreed. “And I can’t lie under oath. It’s the law, June.”

  “It’s the law, June,” she mimicked. “Well, let me tell you something, me and the law in this town don’t get along. Never have, never will.”

  I tried to reach out to touch her, but she flinched away from me the way she had the very first time I tried to touch her.

  I would not admit how much that hurt. I would not.

  “Just…leave me alone,” she muttered, walking to her truck.

  She’d gotten her truck back yesterday, and I had to admit, hitting a body had been good for it. The windshield was clear and shiny, as was the paint that used to be dingy and dull.

  Honestly, she lucked out.

  The department had paid for the truck to be fixed up, thanks to insurance the department carried for such instances.

  “Did Tyler Cree call you and update you on those Slim boys?” I asked, knowing that was the one thing that would make her stop and talk to me.

  She did stop, turning in the half-open door, her foot on the running board.

  “Yes,” she said. “He said that they still haven’t found the fifth suspect. Three were now out of county on a million bond. The fourth one is still in the hospital, but he is expected to make a full recovery. That what you were going to say?”

  I nodded. “But…you need to be careful. They’re being watched, obviously, but that doesn’t mean you need to be walking around town tempting them.”

  She shivered. “Noted.”

  With that, she got into her truck and slammed the door, never once looking back at me as she drove out of the parking lot.

  I wouldn’t admit that it hurt.

  Nope. Not me.

  Chapter 13

  We all know at least one person who can’t speak a full sentence without swearing at least once.

  -June’s secret thoughts

  June

  “It’s a date,” she hedged. “How bad can it be?”

  Amanda’s words had my stomach heaving as I thought about all of the bad possibilities.

  “I don’t go on dates,” I told her.

  “You just told me a few weeks ago that you wanted to get on with your life. You literally can’t do that if you stay at home and do nothing from the moment you get off of work on Friday until Monday when you have to go back in.” She glared.

  “But what the fuck is speed dating, anyway?” I asked. “I didn’t even know that there was such a thing as speed dating.”

  “It’s in Jefferson. It’s at the VFW hall. It’s military vets that are all between the ages of twenty-four and forty-four. And it’s for a good cause. What do you have to lose?” She poked me in the boob.

  I flipped her off.

  “Who the hell does a speed dating thing for a fundraiser?” I grumbled.

  “Somebody who wants their boys to get out and live a little but knows that if they don’t give them a small time limit, they might freak out and go all June on their dates’ asses. If you get what I’m trying to say.” She raised a brow.

  I did.

  Some of these men may have issues like me, and this was the way to get them out and socializing with the world while also giving them a set amount of time to talk to each woman so they wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

  It was a good idea, really.

  I wondered who came up with it, but with little time to get dressed, let alone put makeup on, I didn’t stop to ask questions that I damn well knew she wouldn’t answer.

  Amanda was a creeper. She managed to find out things that most people couldn’t imagine in their wildest dreams and would never hear about—but that came with the territory of her job as a bartender and the owner, along with her father, of the seediest bar in town.

  She just knew stuff—good and bad.

  “Wear your little black dress,” she ordered.

  I ignored her order and walked into my bedroom, immediately going for my most comfortable pair of jeans.

  They were the one and only pair that I refused to wear to Coke’s because I didn’t want them to get ruined.

  They’d been with me since high school, and I treated them like they were my most prized possession because they were.

  They just didn’t make jeans as comfortable as my favorites anymore.

  Even the same freakin’ brand, in the same goddamn size, was different.

  A brand-new pair in my size hung low in the crotch and were too tight around the waist.

  A size six from eight years ago was a size ten now. I honestly hated buying jeans. It sucked. I just hoped and prayed that my jeans would live forever.

  “You’re not seriously wearing those jeans,” Amanda sighed from the doorway. “I told you to wear the black dress.”

  “Negative, Nancy,” I disagreed. “I’m well and truly tired, and if you want me to come, you’ll have to be happy with my hair up in a ponytail, my favorite pair of jeans, and a tank top. I’ll do you a solid, though, and wear my clean tennis shoes if the dust on my boots bothers you.”

  Amanda flipped me off. “Just wear the damn boots. But know this…you’re going to look so out of place, and it’s going to make you feel awful.”

  I laughed. “I always feel out of fuckin’ place.”

  And that was the goddamn truth.

  In my life, it was rare when I felt like I belonged anywhere.

  The closest I got to feeling like I belonged was when my grandpa invited me over for dinner at the nursing home. Even then, I knew that I got a lot of stares because the old people all knew who I was.

  I was the daughter of the town drug addicts. Being in a nursing home was sometimes like high school all over again. Just because they were old, didn’t mean they weren’t hip on every single thing that ever went on in this town.

  They also had long memories, meaning I never got to forget who I was.

  The only other time I’d felt like I belonged was when I’d taken Johnny home after his accident—or I took him, seeing as he couldn’t do a damn thing that involved utilizing his brain.

  That bubble had popped shortly after going out the next day…but it was what it was.

  I was used to it.

  “Are you ready?” Amanda eyed me speculatively.

  I eyed the makeup that I had yet to put on, then shrugged. I hated putting the stuff on anyway. I didn’t like the way it made my face feel. And don’t even get me started on how it felt to have something constantly on my eyelashes.

  “Here, have a piece of gum.” She offered me the pack.

  I threw it back at her. “I don’t like mint.”

>   She snorted. “Then you need to brush your teeth…just in case.”

  “I will not be kissing anybody.”

  Amanda grunted. “Oh, and did you hear that Officer Hottie—aka Johnny—was in an accident today?”

  I would not ask. I would not ask. I would not ask.

  “He what?” I asked calmly. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. Pissed, but fine.”

  But the smug look on her face said that I hadn’t hidden anything from her.

  Fuck.

  Her raised eyebrows practically screamed, ‘And this is why you need to go on a date.’

  Bitch.

  ***

  Johnny

  “This is so fuckin’ stupid,” I told Parker. “Why the hell am I here?”

  “The same reason all of us are here. Your friends set it up. Bitch to them,” Parker countered.

  “Your wife set it up, with her crazy best friend. I don’t see why this would be something that I have to attend. I don’t have any loyalty to them,” I refuted.

  “No, but your face is pretty, and they think it might draw attention. Just know that I had nothing to do with this, and you can’t bitch to me anymore, okay?” Parker sighed.

  I groaned and walked into the VFW hall, looking around at all the stupid tables set up with a rose in a vase on every single goddamn table. There was even a red plastic tablecloth that looked out of place in a place like this.

  “Great!” Janie cried from the other side of the room. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

  I was hoping she was talking to the silent man sneaking in behind us, but I was wrong. She was talking to me.

  “I’m so glad that you decided to come,” Janie cried.

  I looked over at Parker, who hadn’t given me a goddamn choice in the matter.

  All he’d said twenty minutes ago was to get in the truck.

  I’d gotten in the truck and hadn’t even changed out of my uniform yet—which I was now regretting.

  I really, really hated my uniform pants. They were so tight and restricting that sometimes I wondered if I could burn them and tell them I’d buy my own goddamn pants.

  Running in them was even worse. I fucking hated the goddamn material with a passion.

  My favorite time of day was when I would walk into my place and shuck the bastards at the door. Oh, how I wished for it to be acceptable to go around in my underwear at all times like I used to do when I was younger.

  “Coming is a relative term,” I finally said, letting her draw her own conclusions as I glanced over at Parker.

  Parker shrugged and walked away without another word.

  I grinned.

  “Parker’s really nice once you get to know him,” Janie offered.

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure, he is.”

  Janie bit her lip and tried not to laugh.

  I sighed and eyed the room.

  “Which stupid table do you want me at?” I questioned when what I really wanted was to go home at this point.

  My fingers automatically went to my neck where the scar was, and I tried to remember why I was here in the first place. Janie and Kayla really were putting on something good. I liked that they were trying to help…I just didn’t see why I had to be a part of it. Some of the other veterans might enjoy this kind of thing…me, not so much.

  There was only one woman I wanted at the moment…

  “Just go wherever. Whenever they arrive, I’ll send the other men and two women to their own tables as well. First come, first serve,” Janie said.

  Then, without waiting to see if I agreed, she flitted off in the opposite direction, chasing after her husband who was busy moving a table.

  “No, not there!” Janie said. “I want that one exactly where it’s at. I want that one moved.”

  I left them to it and claimed the very corner table, in the deepest shadows, as far away from everyone and everything that I could get.

  Then, I stole the tablecloth from the table next to it, knowing that they hadn’t intended to use this one.

  Grinning, I spread out the tablecloth, moved the stupid vase with the stupid flower over, and then took a seat with my back against the wall.

  I leaned my head to the side, the makings of a headache already pounding in my skull.

  It wasn’t until I heard a bell ding that I realized the room had filled around me.

  I slowly opened my eyes, wincing slightly when my head pounded like someone had knifed it.

  The headaches had been happening on and off after a long shift since I’d got the concussion. Today’s was gnarlier than the rest due to the fact that I didn’t get to go home after my shift. Oh, and my shift had been much longer than the usual eight hours because of the paperwork I had to fill out after a civilian had smashed into my patrol car—with me in it.

  Although, the accident probably had more to do with the headache today than anything else.

  That, and my neck hurt like a son of a bitch.

  I really needed some ibuprofen. Preferably about twelve of them.

  But before I could even get out of my seat, Janie clapped her hands and walked toward the door.

  Everything else that was going through my head quieted at the sight of her.

  She was standing off to the side, Amanda next to her, trying not to get too close to the other women. Amanda had a death grip on her arm as if she was holding her in place, and June didn’t look like she wanted any part of this.

  I found myself grinning for the first time since the day I dropped her off at her house with her panties in a twist—and not in a good way.

  But, before I could get up and go talk to her, her eyes caught mine.

  Relief seemed to pour through them at seeing me sitting there, but just as fast, a blank mask replaced the relief, and she was gone. What made June, June was buried under a layer of disinterest—a layer that I knew was there just for the simple reason that she knew it would piss me off.

  And it worked. I fucking hated it.

  I ground my teeth and fought the urge to stand up and storm over there.

  I hated that she was staring at me like she didn’t know me.

  I mean, sure, we didn’t know each other all that well—but something had passed between us on multiple occasions.

  And someone didn’t save another human being’s life without some kind of a bond forming between those two people. Yet she acted like I was nothing more to her than someone passing her on the street.

  “All right, ladies. The tables are numbered. Please find your table.”

  Everyone moved at once, and I kept my eyes on the only girl I cared that was in the room.

  She sat at table twelve with some big man who had a scar running horizontally across his face, six away from my own.

  The chair in front of me moved, and my heart practically stalled in my chest.

  If there was one person in this entire world that I didn’t want to talk to—it was her.

  So, I did the only thing I could do. I remained silent.

  Because if I had opened my mouth, I would’ve said something I would’ve regretted instantly.

  “I can see that you’re surprised to see me.”

  That was the understatement of the fuckin’ year.

  “You have three minutes. And go!” Janie said loudly over the cacophony of voices.

  “It took me a while to track you down. Your mom and dad didn’t want to tell me where you went, not that I can blame them. But then I saw your pretty face plastered all over the news, and I decided that it was a sign. I just had to come find you…and tell you that I’m sorry.”

  I would’ve snorted but then I would’ve had to breathe in her scent, and I could already feel the damn perfume she wore surrounding me.

  Choking me.

  “You’re not going to say anything?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well, then I guess you’ll just have to listen to me talk for the next
two minutes,” Rosie said. “Which works well for me.”

  I turned my eyes away from the haunting beauty that was Rosie and found June studying us. There was a look of confusion on her face as she tried to reason what was wrong with me—and who the hell this woman was to me.

  Because a person wouldn’t have the thunderous look I was sure my face had when they were meeting some random woman for the first time at a three-minute speed dating event like the one I found myself at.

  Rosie touched my hand, and I jerked it back like I’d been scalded, staring at her with barely concealed hostility. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  Rosie’s eyes widened just like they did when I got mad at her in high school. Then those stupid fuckin’ tears made their appearance.

  Unfortunately for her, but fortunately for me, I was immune to them. They no longer affected me at all. Her tears were useless on me. She wasn’t just a manipulative little shit, oh no, not Rosie. She was the Queen of Manipulation.

  I turned my head away again and looked back over to June.

  This time, June was actually talking to the person in front of her, and she had a small smile on her face.

  This time, when Rosie touched me, I didn’t bother to jerk my hand away. I turned my head and glared.

  Rosie took her hand away, and I once again looked toward June.

  But June’s eyes were lingering this time on my hand where Rosie’s hand had just been. Her lips were in a thin line, and she did not look happy in the least to see someone touching me.

  I found myself grinning.

  The one-minute gong sounded, and I leaned back in my chair, happy to continue looking at June.

  “Who is the bitch?”

  That had me looking back at Rosie.

  This time, she wasn’t trying to ploy me with fake tears. She was pissed and not bothering to hide that fact.

  “That girl? Who is she?”

  I stared.

  “I made a mistake.”

  Another fucking understatement.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry’s not good enough, sweet cheeks.

  Still, I didn’t say a word.

  “I’m…”