Keep It Classy (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 7) Read online

  I closed my eyes and started to laugh.

  That was my grandparents for you.

  “God.” I shook my head.

  Bud and Castiel shared a chuckle as they laughed beside us.

  “Y’all might as well carry chairs back,” my grandmother said as she stood up. “Your grandfather is ready for lunch. Go sit down and we’ll eat.”

  I stood up and started to follow my grandmother, who was already hurrying toward the kitchen. Reaching for my chair, Castiel knocked my hand away gently and said, “Got it.”

  I looked up at him and smiled, then walked into the kitchen to help my grandmother.

  Which was not at all.

  She ladled up each person a bowl of dumplings, then cracked pepper and salt—the perfect amount—over each one.

  “So you have a man,” Grandma said, startling me from my hunger.

  I looked up to see her grab one of the kid bowls that she used for when the grandchildren came over and ladle up a small portion for me.

  “Uh, yeah,” I admitted. “I guess?”

  Grandma smiled. “He called himself yours when he introduced himself.”

  I shivered as the words hit me.

  “I…I want him to be,” I admitted, licking my lips nervously. “But he drives me a little bit crazy, or he used to, and, well…he’s really hot. And out of my league.”

  Grandma looked at me sharply.

  “Have you looked at yourself lately?” she asked. “You were always a beautiful child…but now? You’re breathtaking. When you’re not being all snarly to keep people at a distance.”

  I did do that.

  “Anyway,” I admitted. “I’m not altogether sure that he won’t see reason and leave me.”

  She shook her head and handed me two bowls. “I think you’ll be surprised. The young man that showed up at my door worried about you making it through seeing me today isn’t one that doesn’t stay for the long haul.”

  A silly grin on my face, I walked into the dining room to find my grandfather, Castiel, and Bud in a standoff on who could be the most intimidating.

  “Soup’s on,” Grandma said as she laid my grandfather’s food down first.

  Bud rolled his eyes, as did I.

  Castiel looked at me curiously.

  “He always gets served first,” I admitted. “Even when we have everybody over, including grandchildren. Papaw eats first, no matter what. And my grandma makes sure of it.”

  “As it should be,” Papaw said as he took his first bite of soup. “You keep your man happy, you keep yourself happy.”

  “How is that, Papaw?” Bud teased.

  “Don’t go where I know you’re going with that politically correct bullshit,” he muttered around a bite of dumplings. “I do the same for her…in different ways. I draw her bath and put her clothes in the dryer while she’s in there so they’ll be warm when she steps out. And I cook her breakfast every single morning and serve it to her in bed.”

  Castiel leaned back in his chair, grinning.

  “Damn, Papaw,” Bud said. “That’s pretty fuckin’ sweet of you.”

  Papaw whacked Bud across the knuckles with his cane.

  “Knock that off,” he ordered. “You know how your grandmother hates the cursing.”

  Bud, chastised now, looked at Grandma apologetically.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve been in the field for weeks. I just got back yesterday, as a matter of fact. I’m not in control of my manners just yet.”

  Papaw grunted, then turned to him and said, “Eat.”

  Bud ate, as did we all.

  I managed about half the bowl my grandmother served me and sat back, so full I was about to pop.

  But I wasn’t good at stopping when it came to my grandmother’s cooking.

  And, as I studied Castiel, I realized he was just as taken away by it.

  He was practically licking the bowl.

  “Here.” I scooted my bowl toward him. “Have that.”

  Castiel greedily snatched it up and nearly licked that bowl, too.

  “I have more,” my grandmother said with amusement.

  Bud and Castiel both nodded their heads and stood, walking into the kitchen with their bowls before my grandmother could offer to get it for them.

  When I finally looked back to the table, it was to find my grandfather grinning at my grandmother.

  “What?” I asked carefully.

  “Your mother would’ve loved him,” my grandma whispered.

  ***

  Four hours later

  “That wasn’t so bad, and having your boyfriend—you know, the one you didn’t tell me about—break the ice was definitely helpful,” Bud said.

  I looked over at him and raised a brow.

  “Technically, I did tell you about him,” I countered. “He’s the one who gave me a ticket and the same one that I had to go to court to talk to the judge. Remember?”

  Bud’s mouth fell open. “You’re dating the man that gave you a ticket?”

  I blushed. “Yes?”

  Bud started laughing and didn’t stop until we got to where my dad had stopped the RV for the night the last night he was with mom.

  “I don’t want to do this, either,” Bud grumbled. “Any way you can call that boyfriend of yours over to break the ice here, too?”

  I snorted. “He’s working a serial killer case. He barely had time to do what he did today. There’s no way I’m calling him out here to deal with Dad…and I’m honestly not sure what I’ll find when I get in there.”

  I wasn’t worried that my dad would try to kill himself, but anything else? Like neglecting himself? Cleaning up? Showering? Possibly wiping well? That I could see him doing.

  My dad was like an overgrown nine-year-old. He needed to be told what to do, where to go, when to do it. And when his agent wasn’t providing that information for him, my mom was.

  I’m not saying that my father is incapable of doing those things, he’s just a lazy person. Without the constant feedback from others, he’s going to be struggling.

  “I started to come here last night but didn’t for the same reason,” Bud admitted. “I’m really concerned that he’s going to be living in a pile of filth.”

  I got out of the truck and slammed the door closed, heading for the RV that looked rather dark and gloomy thanks to the trees that the RV was parked under and the rapidly descending sun sinking in the sky.

  “You go first,” he muttered.

  I rolled my eyes at my brother and headed for the front steps, walking up one before I reached up and knocked.

  Dad answered the door instantly.

  Two things hit me at once.

  One, he was dressed—rather nicely—in a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt.

  Two, he looked like he was waiting for us to come.

  I felt a little bad.

  I should’ve probably made more of an effort to come see him, but dammit, I wasn’t sure that I could handle being around him just yet.

  I wanted to be strong, but I also wanted to grieve myself.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said as I continued up the steps.

  “Hey, baby,” my father said. “You brought your brother. Does that mean that we have the funeral tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ve already called Jubilee. She’s setting it up for early in the morning.” I paused. “You have a speaking engagement that you’ve had booked for two years…you wanted to go to that, right?”

  Dad nodded. “I did. I can go now that we have a time and date for the funeral. I can leave tomorrow afternoon after our turkey dinner and drive all night to get to Florida.”

  I thought about that for a few moments. “You can drive half the night and sleep the other half. Then you can finish the drive and get there in time to do the speech with about three to four hours to spare. That’ll give you enough time to shower and change.”

  Dad nodded. “That’s good. I can do that.” He paused. “Do y’all want something to eat?”

&
nbsp; My brows rose. “You have something?”

  He nodded. “I went to the store yesterday. And the laundromat. I cleaned the cabin up…washed the bed sheets.”

  Surprise poleaxed me. “You did all that?”

  He shrugged. “There’s nothing else to do. Y’all are both working…and my job is somewhere else. I suppose if I drove all the way home, I’d have more to do.”

  Dad and Mom had owned a hundred-acre ranch in South Dakota that Dad had purchased about fifteen years ago. I’d spent about two years there before I’d graduated high school and then moved to Texas for college.

  The ranch housed my father’s racing business. Where he built his cup cars, where he stored all his merchandise and had offices at. So yes, he was right. He could probably find plenty to do if he went home.

  “Do you want to go home?” I asked, taking a seat on one of the two sofas located in the main cabin of his RV.

  Bud walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer, taking a seat at the bar.

  Dad sighed. “Yeah. I’m…bored here. Lonely. I lost my best friend, the woman that I did everything with. Without her here to keep me entertained, I’m rather disinterested. I need something to keep my mind occupied and jacking around doing nothing isn’t the way to do it.”

  “I agree,” Bud said. “I think going home would be best for you. Saying that, I think you should just fly to Kissimmee, not drive this beast.”

  “I’m not leaving it here,” he paused. “Unless one of you two want it.”

  I immediately started shaking my head. “I have the one I’m using now. There’s nothing to do with it if you leave it here.”

  He nodded. “Then I’m driving it home.”

  Bud waved his beer in the air. “Want one, Dad?”

  Dad shook his head. “No. I’ve…given up beer for a while.”

  Bud’s brows shot up to his hairline. “But what will you do with all your free beer?”

  Dad was sponsored by a brewing company. He got every single type of beer that they produced at the brewing company if he so pleased. Most of the time they just sent him cases and cases. But if he asked for any specifically, he’d get those, too.

  Dad turned to me. “Seems like our girl has a boy that’s keeping her attention. Maybe he’ll want it.”

  I felt my face heat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  And that was the first time I’d seen my dad laugh since my mother passed away.

  Chapter 15

  Of course, I’m an organ donor. Who wouldn’t want a piece of me?

  -Castiel to Turner

  Castiel

  “I’ll take a couple of hours to go to this funeral, and then I’ll be back. Do you want me to pick some lunch up?” I asked Easton.

  Easton shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “But, if you don’t mind, I’ll go with you. I need to get out of this place and think. My brain hurts.”

  I shrugged. “I was going to take my bike, but if you want to ride together, I’ll take the cruiser. You’re more than welcome to come, though. Turner won’t mind at all.”

  Easton grimaced. “Funerals aren’t my thing, but I’m fuckin’ stuck. I need a break for a couple of hours.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

  “Thanks,” Easton muttered. “And yes, I’ll be riding with you. I still get lost.”

  I rolled my eyes. “This town is the size of a flea.”

  “This town has forty plus thousand people and has the worst mapping system I’ve ever seen. It’s amazing to me that almost every single road in town all leads to the same damn place,” he countered.

  I picked up my suit jacket from the back of the chair and threw it on over my shoulders.

  Easton’s brows shot up. “You’re dressing up for this.”

  I grimaced. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t dress accordingly. She raised me to always dress like I’m going to see her. Or else.”

  Easton chuckled. “I bet the vast majority of them are in jeans and nice shirts. I’ve been to a lot of funerals in my time. You’d be surprised how casual most everyone is.”

  I shrugged. “I tried to wear sweatpants to church one year and my mom boxed my ears. Literally. She looked at me, slapped both of her hands upside my ears, and then told me to go change or I’d get my butt whooped.”

  Easton grinned. “Sounds like your momma is spunky.”

  Thinking of my mom made me smile.

  Thinking of the reason I hadn’t seen her in forever? No, that wiped the smile right off my face.

  “What was that look for?” he asked, looking at me with curiosity.

  I rolled my shoulders. “I haven’t seen my mom in a while.”

  I thought about that, and I decided that as soon as this serial killer business was over with, I’d be taking a road trip to go see her.

  “That call you asked about an hour ago?” Both Easton and I turned to see a young officer standing in the door. “It was traced back to a local number.”

  I turned to Easton with a frown. “That either means that he never got rid of his phone when he moved—which is not his normal operating procedure—or he’s still here.”

  Easton looked practically giddy.

  “I’m hoping he’s still here.” He clapped his hands. “That means he fucked up!”

  ***

  Easton chose to sit in the back of the room.

  Me, remembering my mother’s manners that she’d ingrained in me from such a young age, went up to see the family and tell them that I was there.

  My eyes moved to the spread of flowers that were located behind the family.

  There were so many of them that they had to line the walls four spreads deep, and still they wrapped around the rooms and went to the sides.

  The entire alternate seating area, the place where the family sometimes sat if they didn’t want to sit with the general population, was also filled with spreads of flowers. The pews were moved, and the entire thing looked like a colorful garden.

  Holy shit.

  The first person to catch my eye was Turner’s brother, Bud. We hadn’t had much time to chat yesterday when I’d been at their grandparents’ house—a spur of the moment decision based on a text message that relayed how much Turner wasn’t looking forward to the visit.

  But what I had talked to him about was enough to have me grinning.

  Bud had told me that if I hurt his sister, he’d kill me.

  Knowing that he wasn’t joking in the slightest, I’d offered him my hand, and then told him my address for easier access.

  Bud watched me move like a predator watches another predator.

  And he’d be right to see me as a predator. I wouldn’t be an easy kill, that was for sure.

  Bud nudged Turner, who looked up at him in annoyance.

  Bud said something, then jerked his head in my direction, causing Turner to whip her head around and stare at me walking toward her.

  Her face lifted out of that permanent look of exhaustion and turned to exultation at seeing me. Joy filled her face.

  She looked relieved, happy, and sad all at once.

  Her father, on the other hand, looked like death warmed over.

  His face was haunted, and why wouldn’t it be? He’d just lost the love of his life.

  I offered first her father, who took it without question, and then Bud, my hand.

  Then I extended my fingers toward Turner. When she placed her hand in mine, I gently pulled her toward me and wrapped my arms around her small frame.

  Though, I could practically hear her arguing with my mind the minute I thought it.

  I’m not small. I’m compact and thick.

  Then I grinned.

  “You okay?” I whispered into her hair.

  “Fine,” she admitted. “I’m tired of hugging people.”

  I chuckled into her hair. “Almost done. I’m one of the last ones. They were talking about finishing up as I was walking in. Getting the service started.”r />
  She blew out a breath, and I could feel the warmth against one nipple.

  “Good,” she breathed. “I’m tired and ready for this to be over.”

  I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to the back and sitting with Easton,” I told her. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  She nodded against my sternum. “I hope I don’t.”

  I gave her one last squeeze, then relinquished her to the rest of the people that were waiting to pay their respects before the service.

  Bud smiled at me as I passed him. “Thanks.”

  I shrugged and kept walking, making my way to where Easton was sitting in the last row, that also looked to be a handicap row due to the shortness of the pew.

  Oh, and the handicap sticker on the side. That was a dead giveaway as well.

  Easton was staring at a man that was in front of him with a frown.

  As I walked up, my eyes went to the man.

  Brown hair. Average build. Average complexion. Everything about him was average, yet I knew that I’d seen him before.

  I took my seat next to Easton and spoke so only he could hear.

  “Why are you staring at that man so hard?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen him before,” he muttered.

  Bear Bottom was a small town. If he’d been at any of the places around town, it was likely that we had seen him before. Yet it was possible that we didn’t know him.

  “I have, too,” I admitted. “Might’ve been over the last week.”

  “I’m good with faces,” Easton said. “And I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before.”

  Easton was a goddamn genius. I’d figured that out over the last week of working with him.

  Not only was he smart, but his brain worked on a different wavelength than anybody else’s.

  Where my brain felt like it worked on FM, his was one of those that worked on AM, FM and fucking satellite.

  There were things he saw, clues he’d put together, that I would’ve never even thought to consider.

  Which was why, when he said that he recognized the man in front of us, I knew that the man was different.

  “Run his face,” I suggested. “Can’t hurt.”