Hustle Him (Bank Shot Romance #2)(11)
Author: Jennifer Foor

I shook her hand knowing damn well that she expected me to respond the same way to her. “I’m Ramsey Towers. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Mr. Secretive? You aren’t going to divulge any information about yourself?” This was a bad idea.

“I have no story to tell. I’m the sheriff of the next town over. I do my job and mind my own business.”

She backed away from me and shook her head. “Clearly, you don’t want to talk about it. I know when to back off. Listen, I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of my kids the night of the accident and sitting with me at the hospital. It was nice to not have woken up all alone.”

“Just doing my job.”

Sue came walking in at the perfect time. I was about to run out of reasons why I didn’t want to talk about my past.

For dinner, we all sat at a large dining room table. The little guy, Logan, sat across from me, staring a hole into me. “Have you ever shot someone?”

“Logan!” His mother didn’t like the question much.

Knowing his age, I chuckled and sat down my fork for a second. “Being a police officer isn’t about shooting people. I do a lot of other things for the people of my town.”

“Like what?” He wasn’t going to give up.

“Well, you saw me tend to your car accident. I also investigate when crimes have been committed and try to stop the bad guys before anything else happens.”

“Like having to shoot em?”

“Logan, I am not going to say it again!”

“Exactly like that.”

“When I grow up I am going to be a superhero. Mom says that cops just write tickets and act like jerks. I don’t want to be a jerk.”

It was hard not to laugh, but as I looked over and saw Vessa’s face turning a shade of red, I couldn’t help it. I’d been called worse and it didn’t make me want to change occupations.

The girl, Asha, asked to be excused. She had blonde hair like her mother and I could see the resemblance in them. She seemed polite at the dinner table, but once she and her brother were excused, I could hear them going at it in the living room. Finally, their mother had to get up and intervene.

I helped Sue clean up the table, while Vessa stayed with the kids. It was better that way, since I didn’t want to have to talk to her. Everyone wanted to know my story. I was just sick of it. Couldn’t people mind their business and live their own lives?

“Did you enjoy the food?” Sue asked as I handed her a plate.

“You know I love everything you make. Hell, I’d be skin and bones if it weren’t for your cooking.” Jules had always done the cooking in our marriage. I honestly never learned how.

“My niece is a good girl. We all got problems, but she’s got a big heart.”

“Are you trying to set me up? You know I’m a private man. I’d be no good for her or anyone else.” It was true. I’d given up on love.

“I think that you could be friends. You two are the same. Always dwelling on the past. I don’t know your story, Ramsey, but I know something’s made you be the person that you are now. Whatever it is, you can’t hold it in. It’s not healthy. I ain’t saying you have to date her, but there is nothing wrong with being friends with someone. Besides, she’s taking over at the bar and you are going to have to get used to seeing her.”

“When is that happening?” I was going to miss the way Sue never asked questions.

“When she’s feeling up to it.”

Vessa came walking in, which put an end to the uncomfortable conversation. “Are you going to stick around for a while? I can make coffee.”

I waved my hand around. “No thanks. I need to get going. Thanks for dinner, though.”

The women walked me out to the porch and said their goodbyes. All in all, it wasn’t such a bad time. They didn’t press me about things and I appreciated that. Maybe one day I would be able to open up and socialize again the way I used to. I just missed my girls too much to be able to let them go.

Chapter 6

Vessa

The accident set me back, but gave me time to help the kids get adjusted to living in a new place. I was happy to see how easily they were able to make new friends. My recovery was slow and I didn’t want to chance reinjuring myself, especially my head.

Since my aunt was so happy that we were there, she’d pretty much made up her mind that I was going to slowly start taking over her shifts at her bar. Her late husband had left it to her, and since his death, she’d devoted every second to keeping it up and running.

It needed some TLC, but it had character. My aunt Sue had collected a bunch of unique decor through the years. Since her main business was travelers, mainly truckers, you can imagine that some of the items were vulgar. Several sets of plastic br**sts were hung on the walls with beads hanging over them, like Mardi Gras. It was my son who noticed them all, the moment he first stepped foot in the place. I think my aunt was devastated over it. She wasn’t used to kids, but was trying her hardest to get to know both of them.

Some days it was hard because she reminded me so much of my mother, who I missed terribly. In other ways, it was a godsend that she was here, opening her home and life to us. I appreciated her so much for it.

When I got out of the hospital, Gavin begged me to come home. He made all of his usual promises about changing, but it was all bullshit. His girlfriend was pregnant and during one of my heated arguments with my mother-in-law, she’d slipped and admitted that the girl was living at my house. To think about her being there and sleeping in my bed, made me sick.

The longer I was away from Gavin, the more I realized that it was exactly what I should have done. His lying was continuous and I didn’t deserve that; neither did my kids. To keep the peace though, we agreed to meet halfway every other weekend, so that he could have them for a couple days.

After the first visit, the kids didn’t seem too thrilled about their father’s new relationship. I’d asked him to hold off on telling them, but apparently the girl had no place to go. Gavin told me that her parents had kicked her out when they found out she’d dropped out of school to hang out at a tattoo parlor and get knocked up.

My daughter seemed more upset than my son. I think it was because she was old enough to understand why I’d left their dad. She cried that night, once we got home and she was tucked in bed. To cheer her up, while she went to school the next day, my aunt went to the paint store and we painted her room her favorite color; making it really her room.

Since I was one of my aunt’s only living relatives, and the closest, she’d always told me that I was like a daughter to her. I regretted being so distant to her for so long, especially when I knew she didn’t have anyone else. I think some days she overexerted herself trying to make us feel welcome.