Page 2

Carter

Curmudgeon Text Thread

Ethan – SOS

Me – Fuck. Me. What?

Garrick – What he said.

Talia – What they said.

Alec – First time I’m saying this. What they said.

Ethan – What the fuck do I do?

Ethan – *Green goop all over his white sheets on his king-sized bed*

Me – Are you fucking kidding me?

Garrick – I just threw up.

Talia – Go jump in the lake?

Alec – I just ate cereal. brB.

Ethan – Grow the fuck up!

Ethan – Melanie has the shits!!

Me – Take her to the Emergency Room.... Ain’t normal.

Garrick – Give her a fucking bath. Then throw your sheets away. Buy a new mattress.

Garrick – Correction. Burn said mattress.

Talia – Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Just call Mom.

Ethan – She told me if I called her for something stupid again, she was going to ream my ass.

Me – Nah. I told her to do that.

Ethan – Are you serious?

Me – Who the hell calls their Mom because they can’t find a matching sock?

Ethan – Hey, I had a long fucking night.

Talia – So didn’t need to know that.

Garrick silenced notifications.

Me – I’m about to do that too. Call. MOM.

Daddy-Kins that would have been the booth along the far back wall closest to the back window.

The booth I currently occupied was christened as the Griggs booth. The entire town knew it.

And it was comical when we all showed up, and a tourist and his family were occupying it. The family was offered free slices of pie to move. You would be stupid to turn down Darla’s pie. Well, in my mind, it was really hers . Even though Darla taught her how to make it.

But as for my favorite booth, again, that would be because of her .

If I thought for even a nanosecond that I was good enough for her, I’d tell the whole family that we had another booth.

But alas, self-deprecation and all that was a fucking thing.

And speaking of, as to why this was the best diner in three counties, Harlee, Talia’s best friend, came by, winked, and sat down with a glass of Coke filled to the brim with little ice cubes.

I winked back, “Thanks, Harlee Belle.”

I had just taken a sip of my Coke, catching a few ice cubes and loving the little crunch I got when I bit into them, when I heard it.

My head lifted, my eyes scanned, and I latched onto the fucker who just said, “Damn. Catch the legs on that one.”

Blue polo, khaki shorts, tennis shoes... tourist.

My eyes moved to where the man was looking, and when I saw it was at Harlee, my jaw clenched.

Harlee no doubt heard what the man said, caught my eyes, and rolled her own.

I shook my head, then lifted my brow.

She knew what I was silently asking.

If she wanted me to get up, walk over there, and slam his face into the top of the table.

Because it sure as fuck wasn’t the first time. And when it came to her, it wouldn’t be last.

She grinned, then shook her head.

I was half tempted to blow a raspberry at her. Instead, I lifted my chin, but I was ready and on standby.

I sat there watching the street while still keeping an eye on that guy as Harlee Belle came back to me, and smiled, “You want your usual?”

I grinned as I looked up at her.

Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy knot. The same as it always was while she was working at the diner.

The very first time she worked a shift here to help her parents, who owned the place, customers were pulling long strands of blonde hair from their pies.

To say she had been embarrassed was an understatement.

Everyone still gives her shit for it, but it was hilarious.

And as I took in her shining mossy-oak-colored eyes, I saw the twinkle in them.

She was no doubt thinking the same thing.

I winked up at her and asked, “Who cooked my usual?”

She smirked, “My dad.”

I grinned, “And who cooked my second usual?”

Yes, I was asking as if she didn’t know what it was.

She chuckled, “My mom.”

I paused for a beat, and then I asked, “And who cooked my favorite?”

And just like it always did, her cheeks tinted pink.

Fuck. Me.

She giggled, trying to hide it, but it was there, all the same.

“I did,” she said softly.

I winked, “Then you know what I want.”

She spun around then and headed to place my order.

And yeah, I watched her go.

Those long-tanned legs, those thighs that had that jiggle, that rounded ass that would overfill my big hands, but I was here for it.

To say I wasn’t an ass man would make me a fucking liar.

And here I sat, four months from turning thirty-eight years old, and she had just turned twenty-four. I was too goddamned old for her.

But man, do I wish that weren’t the fucking case.

I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Harlee Belle.

See what I mean... I wasn’t good enough for this girl.

Even though I wasn’t good enough for her, the motherfucker who just whistled in her direction in the blue polo, khaki shorts, tennis shoes, sure as fuck wasn’t good enough to lick the bottom of her sneakers.

With that single thought on my mind, I braced my hands on top of the table and stood.

Then I casually walked over to where he was sitting and, without thought, I tagged the fork and slammed it into his hand, getting low, using my big body to block out anyone from seeing what I was doing.

In a low tone I reserved for pieces of shit, I said, “You’re going to pull your wallet out and place enough to cover your meal, along with a nice tip.

Then you're going to get up and walk out of here with your eyes on your feet. Get in your vehicle and drive away. Never coming back here. Am I clear?”

His face was white, his teeth gritted in pain, as he asked, “And if I don’t?”

I grinned, hoping he would go that route.

“Well now, see, that all depends,” I said. Letting a smirk play along my lips.

The piece of shit asked, “On?”

“Oh, a few things. See, you can make it easy on me and do exactly what I said. Or I can remove this fork, jerk you out of this booth with my hand wrapped around your throat, haul your ass outside, and then slam this fork into your tiny pencil dick. Or I can do the second but take you to my truck and drive you out to some very infested swamp land. Your call.”

“I’ll have you arrested.” He gritted out.

I grinned, “See, that’s the thing about small towns.

Everyone knows everyone around here. And about a third of our little population is related.

So, imagine your surprise when you hear that the woman you whistled at, the very same woman, just so happens to be beloved by this entire town, if not this entire county.

But she’s especially loved by her godfather, who just so happens to be,” I paused, grinned, then said, “the Chief of Police.”

“Now, what’s it going to be?” I asked.

Ready to deliver my threats without hesitation.

He’s face was still pale, but he nodded, “The first thing you suggested.”

I nodded, “Good call,” then I pulled the fork from his hand. Sat it down on the napkin it had been resting on and stood to my full height of six feet three.

I stepped back, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited.

I didn’t miss the way his eyes widened at my height, my size, the tattoos on both my arms.

I held the smirk in. Barely.

He pulled his hand to his chest, pulled his wallet out with his other hand, pulled out two twenties, laid them on the table, and then he stood, and with his eyes on the floor, he walked out.

I walked back to my booth and sat, my eyes staying on him until he got in his car, backed out, and left.

I had just taken a sip from my Coke when my plate was set down, and I looked up at Peter, Harlee’s dad, “From now on, you never pay when you come in here.”

I shook my head, “Nah.”

He nodded, “Yes. Don’t you dare think her mama and I miss the way you look at her.”

And with that, he walked away.

Was that unsolicited approval?

Too goddamn bad I would never act on my feelings for her.