She decided to drop the conversation about Gordon. Although she hadn't given up on her plan to kill the bastard before Stake did, she wouldn't involve Tiny more than she already had. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
He let out a loud grunt. "A different one almost every night," he said, a chuckle in his voice. "The ladies love my cock."
Santana reached over and slapped him hard on the chest. Despite Tiny trying to get into her pants as a young teenager, she'd always thought of him more like a brother. "Gross. I don't need to hear that."
"It's true," he said unapologetically. "They also like to ride my face." He held up his hands in a defensive position as soon as he said it, knowing she'd try to whack him again.
"Nasty! You're a pig like the rest of them." She squeezed her legs together, remembering the first time Stake had eaten her pussy. Fuck. "Did Stake say what time he'd be home?"
Laughing, Tiny rose to his feet and headed for the water. "You'd better cool that hot little body down ‘cuz he won't be back 'til late."
Dammit, had she been so obvious? With a sigh of resignation, she followed Tiny back into the lake.
Chapter Seven
The minute Tiny pulled up to Stake's house, he turned off his bike and reached in his pocket. "My goddamn cell's been vibrating since we left the lake," he said. He stared at the display, and his dark blond eyebrows drew together. "It's Prez." He glanced back at Santana. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to take this."
"No problem." She climbed off the bike before setting the helmet on the seat. "I'll be inside."
She hoisted herself onto the back porch, wondering why Stake had never bothered to build stairs. The porch wasn't high off the ground, probably only two feet or so, but while it was an easy step up for Stake, she was only five-foot-five.
She used her key to enter the house before retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Swimming had been fun after she'd recovered from her meltdown, and she'd managed to get some nice color.
Tiny knocked before entering. "I've gotta go out for a while."
"Problem?" She asked, opening the fridge to hand him a bottle of water.
"Business, but I should only be gone a few hours."
She sighed. Stake had left money for grocery shopping, but Tiny was supposed to go with her. She eyed the envelope of cash on the table. It was stupid, but she'd really looked forward to shopping without worrying about the total. Stake had been very clear that she was to load up on junk food because he enjoyed eating shit while he watched baseball on TV. "Will you be back in time for dinner? I thought I'd make meatloaf."
He groaned and rubbed his flat stomach. "Hell yeah, I'll be back. I fuckin' love meatloaf."
"Good." She finished her water and tossed the empty into the recycle bin she'd created out of an old cardboard box lined with a trash bag.
"You have your phone?" he asked.
"Yep." Stake had insisted on buying her a new phone. She unplugged it from the charger on the counter.
Tiny walked over and gave her a peck on the forehead. "Sorry about this. Stake'll probably kill me for leaving you alone, but at this point, I'm more afraid of Cecil."
She waved off his concerns. "I'll be fine. I've spent most of my life taking care of myself. I'm sure I can handle it for a few hours."
His expression darkened. He shook his head before giving her another friendly kiss. "I like brown gravy with my meatloaf. You do it that way?"
"I can." She didn't tell him it had been years since she'd had enough money to buy the hamburger required for meatloaf, let alone splurge on gravy.
"Stay safe," he called as he walked out the door.
She waited until she could no longer hear the sound of his Harley before running to the bedroom to change into dry clothes and brush out her hair. She grabbed the extra set of keys and the envelope before heading out of the house.
Behind the wheel of Stake's truck, she took several deep breaths. It had been close to three years since their old piece of shit car had finally given up the fight, but she assumed driving was something you never really forgot how to do. "You've got this," she repeated over and over as she started the pickup and pulled out onto the road.
The drive went so well that she turned on the radio on the outskirts of town. She was almost to downtown when flashing lights in her rearview mirror caught her attention. Her immediate reaction was to stiffen and glance down at her speedometer. She wasn't speeding, so what the fuck? Pulling to the side of the road, she turned off the engine and started searching her purse for her driver's license.
"Fuck me," she groaned when she spotted Robby Langers walking toward the truck in the driver's side mirror. She hadn't spoken to Robby since the day she'd heard his douchebag jock friends talking smack about her. She held out her license and the registration she'd retrieved from the glove box. "I wasn't speeding," she said before he could speak.
Robby leaned his forearm against the door and stared straight at her tits. "Looking good." When Santana flinched, he held up his hands and took a step back. "It was just a compliment. Don't stab me." He started to laugh like he'd told the funniest joke ever.
A "fuck you" was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. Robby was the kind of dick who would arrest her at the slightest provocation. "Why'd you stop me?"
Sobering, he glanced down at her license. "I haven't seen you drive for a while. Thought it best to make sure you were still legal." He handed her license and registration back. "And to give you a warning. Folks in town aren't happy that you tried to file a false police report on Sherriff Gordon. You might watch your back while you're in town."
She rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip. "Can I leave?"
He eyed her for several moments before slapping his palm against the side of the truck. "I wasn't kidding when I said you looked good. I'd ask you out, but I heard you've shacked up with that piece of shit biker."
Finished with the conversation, she started the truck and pulled back onto the road without a reply. She couldn't believe that slime had the nerve to think she would ever go out with him again.
By the time she parked in front of the grocery store, most of her enthusiasm had waned. She tossed the keys into her purse and confirmed she'd grabbed the envelope of cash before going inside.
Barb, the not so friendly cashier, stopped chatting with a customer to stare at her as Santana fought to untangle a cart. She did her best to ignore the whispered gossip that floated around her as she made her way through the aisles. With absolutely no appetite, she found it difficult to shop, but she loaded the cart with two boxes of cereal, chips, Coke and Grape Crush before heading to the meat department. One thing Stake had made clear since she'd begun to cook was that he required meat, and lots of it, at every meal. She thoughtfully picked up enough hamburger, steaks and pork chops and chicken to last the two weeks they'd still be in Broken Ridge.
By the time she finished, she could barely maneuver the cart to the check-out lane. As she started to unload her groceries, she caught Barb staring at her. "Is there a problem?"
Barb gestured to the food piled on the conveyor belt. "You have enough money to pay for all this?" She clucked her tongue. "Looks like you came out ahead after stabbing Pete."
Tired of the bullshit, Santana dropped a twelve pack of Coke back into the cart. "You know what? Fuck this. If you don't want to sell me groceries, just say so, otherwise, shut your goddamn mouth, and do your job."
Barb gasped and crossed her arms over her saggy tits. "How dare you speak to me that way, you piece of trash."
Santana was trying to calculate how long it would take for her to drive to the next town with a grocery store when a middle-aged man she'd never seen moved to stand next to Barb.
"Is there a problem?" he asked the cashier.
Before Barb could open her big mouth, Santana answered the question. "Yes, there is. I've been shopping at this store my entire life, and this woman has treated me like I didn't exist for most of those years." She gestured to the mounds of food waiting to be scanned. "Now, I'm trying to buy all this, and your employee feels the need to call me trash and spout her fucking mouth about something she knows nothing about."
The man looked at Barb. "Is that the truth?"
"She's the one who stabbed Sheriff Gordon," Barb replied. "We don't need her kind in here."
The handsome man scratched his jaw. "Well, since you don't own the store, I can't see where that's your place to determine." His hands moved to his hips. "I think it's best you take the rest of the day off while I try and figure out if you still have a job come morning."