Cree (My Way Series - Book 1) (Volume 1) (5 page)

Lacey was my age with a current and trendy hair cut with big brown chunks of hair framing her face, while the rest of her hair was a beautiful golden blonde. Lacey’s arms were covered in beautiful tattoos and her ears were full of shiny piercings. She pulled off a beautiful grungy style with a lot of sass. I’m pretty sure Lacey was the type of gal who could pull off any style. She was the same height as me at 5’6” and a size eight. We were both blessed with chunky asses and gorgeous, plump boobies. We were absolutely sisters from another mister!

Long hair was always expected of me. My chestnut brown hair was always long, thick and wavy. I wanted and needed something different for the new me. I put my faith into the newfound stranger and let her have her way with my hair. When the first lock of my hair hit the ground I felt lighter than I had in years.

We struck up conversation easy. We chatted away about the weather and current styles. I even found myself telling her all about the Bastard, Frances, and my childhood. She was so easy to talk to and I instantly loved her for that. Lacey reassured me that she had a past that no one could live up to, so she never judged.

She served me wine and snacks while she worked away. Her hands were made to do hair. They worked effortlessly through my scalp. While Lacey was shampooing the color out of my hair, she was bent over just chatting away, telling me about a time when she ran from the cops at a party. Halfway through her story, her gum came flying out of her mouth and went down my shirt. Without missing a beat, she reached down my shirt and grabbed her gum that was lodged quite nicely in my cleavage. We both laughed hysterically.

When Lacey was finished, she left me with a blunt shaggy bob and bangs that swept to the side and rich, deep auburn hair. I loved it and I instantly loved her for giving me my new look, and for grabbing gum out from between my boobies! The friendship that we formed was instant and effortless. We were true, long-lost soul sisters, and she was my favorite bitch in town!

Lacey also got the treat of my coffee concoctions. She enjoyed having a fancy mocha or latte delivered to her daily. She was the best critic, since she was always brutally honest with me. I made a pumpkin latte for her one day and she abruptly informed me that it tasted of dog shit and rotten vinegar. Lacey wasn’t shy about visiting my shop either. She loved to come over on her lunch break and adorn herself in headbands, new clothes, and jewelry. She was my personal walking billboard and my best friend.

One evening at my apartment, I shared my bucket list thingy with Lacey. I waited nervously as she read over the list. She laughed at certain things on my list and asked about the checkmark by the random lay. I told her all about Malcolm in great detail.

“By damn you are a true little ho-bag!”

“Trust me, it was damn good!”

“So what’s up with the potato salad?

“Frances had a thing for it. I need to find a good recipe for her.”

“Well, I have one, you little hoochie!”

“You do? Is it good?”

We raced to the grocery store to buy all the ingredients. This recipe had been passed down from Lacey’s great-grandma. I’ll admit there were some damn weird steps, like patting down the cooked potato pieces with a towel to take the excess moisture out of them. I was sure that Lacey was being a total twat waffle by making me rub down cooked potatoes with a towel, but nope, it was written on the card in her great-grandmother’s handwriting. The potato salad was fucking epic! I had done it—another check on my bucket list thingy. I made Lacey sign her name by this checkmark.

I asked Lacey about her family and she said she didn’t have any. I could tell it was a closed subject, so I didn’t push any farther. I loved having my wild child Lacey in my life.

“Hey, hoochie! Stay the night with me tonight. We can gorge on this amazing potato salad and watch
Footloose
.”

“Anything for you, my little bitch!” Lacey replied.

C
HAPTER 7

Shit! Fuck! Bitch!

It’s now the day before opening and I had an old door that I was trying to hang from the ceiling. It was the last finishing touch I had to make to my perfect little shop. The door was all rigged up with wire, and I screwed eye bolts to the beams. So all I had to do was climb up the ladder with the rustic door and hook the four pieces of wire to the eyelet hooks. I made it up the ladder rather gracefully and hooked the first piece of wire.

I then went to hook the second piece of wire, when the pad of my finger entangled in the wire at the same time as the wire flipped onto the hook. The shooting pain from my finger being bit off by the wire instantly made me drop the end of the door, which in turn caused the wire to pinch off any remaining flesh attached to my finger. All at once I screamed, “Shit! Fuck! Bitch!” and instantly started sucking on my mangled finger. “Shit, fuck, bitch!”

“Um, excuse me? Are you okay?” came a voice. I immediately whipped my head around, to see a stranger standing in the middle of my shop. A very fucking handsome, dreamy stranger. Oh real nice—the first time I injure myself in my shop, I turn to find a motherfucking hottie! Actually, handsome didn’t cover it. The man was tall and slender and had dark brown hair that stuck out beneath his trucker ball cap. He was downright, effin hot!

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just decided to wrestle this door on top of a ladder in the middle of the day. I’m pretty sure the door won this round,” I replied coolly while my insides were screaming and writhing in motherfucking pain.

“I just wanted to stop in to see how it was going. I’ve seen you working in here over the last month, but haven’t had the chance to stop in.”

“I appreciate it! And I’m so glad that I provided you such a great show. Would you like a cup of joe? Try the new latte of the day. It’s a Rummy Tummy with butterscotch and rum in it,” I offered.

“That would be great! Do you think you can manage with your finger? It’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” I said. In reality, I was in so much pain I wanted to fucking faint.

I wrapped my finger in a damp cloth and started making his coffee.

“By the way, I’m Cree Fitzpatrick,” he said as he extended his hand over the coffee counter to introduce himself. He then climbed the ladder and finished hanging the door for me, without me asking him to. I just stared at him. Yes, I ogled him! He had to be at least six feet tall and was built, but slender at the same time. He had killer blue eyes and killer light blue jeans on that hung off his hips. As he lifted the door up over his head to hang it, I could see the lower part of his abs and his ever-so-sexy v-shaped muscles that led to the glory land. I finally snapped out of it and decided to tell him my name.

“Nice to meet you, Cree. I’m Milly, and thanks,” I said as I blended him his latte.

We stood there for a moment in sheer awkward silence. I noticed his brown work boots and his tight fitting red t-shirt with the local rec district’s logo across the front, and “coach” in white letters across the back. The one disadvantage to living in a small town like this was I would bet my left ovary he was already taken. I guess I would just enjoy the view as he sauntered out of my shop with my coffee in his hand.

“Make sure you come back for coffee if you like it. The drive-thru will be open tomorrow,” I blurted out.

He turned around and said, “I will.”

As soon as the mysterious Cree left the shop, I started writhing in pain, jumping up and down like a freaking lunatic. The pain was causing me to throw a total hissy fit. Damn this fucking hurts, and I was pissed that Cree saw the whole thing. I ran up to my apartment to find some anti-bacterial ointment to put on the wound, and wrapped it up with a Band-Aid. Of course, it was a cute Band-Aid with paisleys and polka dots on it.

I put all the finishing touches on The Shop, and then retreated to my apartment to make love to a frozen pizza and a bottle of wine. I went to sleep that night for the first time with a man on my mind. Cree Freakin’ Fitzpatrick.

The first day in my shop was simply amazing. Old Man Jenkins was my very first coffee customer. He explained to me that he loved all the fancy drinks that I had been making for him over the last month, but he would rather just stick to some good ol’ black coffee. I told him it would be on the house today, so he left me a twenty dollar tip. Oh, he was a clever one.

Then Lacey and the gals from the salon stopped by. The old ladies bought several items for their granddaughters and nieces. I had several other customers throughout the day. I received several compliments on how cute and gorgeous my shop was. I had to agree! All the headbands, flowers, jewelry and handmade clothes looked fantastic on display. I was exhausted after the first day, but mainly from nerves, because I didn’t do much manual work today.

Instead of the frozen pizza route, I decided to go to the store. I needed wine and toilet paper, so I thought I would find something there for dinner. A home-cooked meal sounded wonderful, but I wasn’t going to go to that much effort.

I was at checkout lane number seven when I spotted Cree walking into the store. Today he looked like he came straight off the farm. Good lord, the man was an amazing sight to behold. I clutched my wallet tightly as I watched him stroll over to the basket of fresh warm French bread loaves. He selected one and then made his way to the checkout stands. He was so on a “honey-do” errand for his wife, because really, what single man comes to a grocery store to buy a loaf of French bread?

Please don’t’ pick seven, please don’t pick seven,
I pleaded with the gods of checkout stands
.
I kept my eyes glued to Henrietta the cashier, willing her to move her ass just a little bit faster. Who the hell wanted to be spotted buying toilet paper, wine, tampons and a corn dog? (Yep, not so badass…Fuck it with the badass…I was in survival mode these days). I was past the point of retreat or I would have run, ditching my basket in a random aisle.

“Milly?”

It was confirmed: I wanted to shit myself and run right out of the store. Instead, I turned to see Cree smiling brightly at me. Yes, I must be being punished by the checkout gods.

“Oh hey, Cree, I didn’t see ya there,” I lied. My only saving grace was my outfit. I dressed up super fancy today for the opening. I was wearing bright yellow daisy dukes with a red tank top and off the shoulder chevron striped shirt, and my red hooker heels completed the ensemble. My hair was a mess of wild curls with my aviators holding them back from my face.

“How was opening day? I tried to make it down there, but things on the farm just didn’t go well. We’re gearing up for harvest.”

“It was great! I couldn’t ask for better support from a community. Thanks for asking,” I said as I grabbed my jumbo package of toilet paper and hoisted it under one arm, and then grabbed my single bag of groceries.

“See ya around,” I said over one shoulder. I dropped the package of toilet paper three fucking times before I made it to my truck. When I finally got to my truck, my heart was pounding wildly from the sight of Cree. The man was drop-dead gorgeous, and he made me want to take a spin on his tractor.

I watched him stroll out of the grocery store and climb into his dark blue Dodge truck that was covered in mud. The truck totally fit his rugged looks. My heart fell around my ankles when I spotted the Holstein colored car seat in the middle of the back seat of his truck. Yep, it’s confirmed—he’s taken. My heart was hurting and my wine was calling my name, so on with my life. Deep down I already knew that Cree was taken, but that didn’t stop my heart from wanting to get to know him.

I quickly recovered from my encounter with Cree with the help of a sweet Moscato and my yummy, fried corndog. Lacey had been bugging me to go out Honky-Tonkin with her since I met her. I always declined because my shop was my priority. After being arm candy for so many years, I loved being buried deep in my work. But after seeing Cree in the grocery store, I realized it was time to go out and have some fun. I picked up my phone and texted Lacey.

Me: Hey Hoochie! When are you taking me out to sow some of my wild oats?

Lacey: About damn time you decided that you aren’t 90 years old!

Me: Shut it! Name the day.

Lacey: Next Friday…You have 5 days to get the cobwebs blown out of your hoo-ha!

Me: Ya-Ya…. I’m ready to blow something. This shit better be legit!

Lacey: Trust me, you will love it you little skank!

C
HAPTER 8

Swinging Sam

It was Friday before I knew it and the day to party. The Shop was crazy busy this week and unfortunately there were no Cree sightings. I quickly found out that I would need to hire some help, which was on the top of my to-do list for next week. My cup runneth over! I was on cloud nine with all the success and love I was feeling in my new life. Lacey was coming over after work to get us all beautified for our Honky Tonkin’ adventure.

She had brought all of her “hoochielicious” clothes over the night before so we could play dress up. I seriously had no idea where she came up with some of these words. She also took it upon herself to teach me how to two-step and swing dance in my living room last night. She blared the song “Red Neck Girl” by The Bellamy Brothers as she spun me around my living room. The song was damn catchy! I caught myself picking up the art of country dancing real quickly. All I needed now was to find me a redneck boy! She twirled me around and slapped my ass and we both started laughing so hard, I had to call a PMP. We made chef salads and then retreated to the couch to watch some TV for the remainder of the evening.