The Bully (Calamity Montana)
The Bully: Chapter 5

THE CALAMITY HARDWARE store had exactly two camping chairs. Red and green. I picked the green one because it had cupholders in each armrest. Part of me had been tempted to order a chair online and have it shipped to the motel, but if I was going to live in Calamity, I might as well spend my money at the local businesses. Even if that meant I had to go out in public.

The hardware store wasn’t huge, but after breezing through the aisles, there wasn’t much they didn’t have. Building supplies. Camping and outdoor gear. Clothing and shoes. Even a toy section.

I’d picked up a foam sword for Elias.

“This all for you today, Cal?” the clerk asked as I carried my haul to the register.

“Yeah.” I didn’t ask how he knew my name. I didn’t ask if he’d been one of the many I’d met at Jane’s on Monday. I just dug the wallet from my pocket and shoved my credit card into the reader.

“Sure was generous of you to cover the tab at Jane’s the other night.”

“Yep.” Not only had I been swarmed with people who’d wanted to shake my hand, I’d also had the pleasure of paying Jane over eleven hundred dollars, plus a twenty percent tip. All thanks to the generous Nellie Rivera.

“Anything else for you today?” he asked.

“Nope.” I took the receipt from his hand, tucked my chair and the sword under an arm, then strode out the door. I’d managed to make my morning stops without seeing many people. With any luck, I’d be back in the Winnebago before I spotted another soul.

Marcy had come through like a champ with the RV. She’d stocked it with essentials, food included. She’d cleaned it top to bottom. And she’d made sure I had Wi-Fi and a streaming stick for the small television in the bedroom.

I’d been holed up inside for the past four days. It felt like an epic waste of time to have spent days watching movies, but what the hell else did I have to do?

Going anywhere in public was a risk, but this morning, I’d had no choice but to brave the grocery store or face starvation. I’d gone there first, loading up on enough food to last me the week. And then I’d gone to the hardware store, walking through the door a minute after they’d opened at seven. If shopping this early meant I didn’t have to interact with many people, I’d gladly wake up an hour earlier than normal.

The only productive thing I’d done this week was exercise. Every morning I’d go for a run at dawn, then do calisthenics on the floor of the RV. Eventually, I’d have to find a weight room. I’d probably try yoga at The Refinery and hope it would loosen the strain in my lower back. But for now, I’d pop a few pain pills each morning and avoid human interaction whenever possible.

I was hiding.

Just like Nellie had predicted.

My Land Rover was parked on the street, the black paint gleaming compared to the dusty Chevy truck parked three spaces down. My car had arrived yesterday from Nashville, and being behind the wheel gave me a sense of freedom I’d missed over the past week.

If Nellie did chase me out of town, at least I’d have wheels.

The motel’s parking lot was full as I drove past. Guests had streamed in last night for the first weekend in June, and as Marcy had promised, the place was packed. Luckily, I bypassed it all and eased down the alley to park beside the Winnebago.

It didn’t take long to haul everything inside and unload my groceries. While I brewed another pot of coffee, I unpacked my chair, taking it out of the case and ripping off the tag. Then I set it up outside next to the camper’s door.

My makeshift patio.

Montana had a lot of positives from the sprawling mountains to the big, blue sky. There were a hell of a lot fewer people in the state than anywhere else I’d lived. And the lazy summer mornings with birds chirping, the sun shining and a fresh breeze were hard to beat.

I settled into my seat, coffee mug in one hand, and Nellie’s diary in the other. If I hadn’t been watching TV these past four days, I’d been rereading her journal. This was the sixth—or seventh?—pass.

She’d had more diaries in that box. What did the other years say about me? Too bad I hadn’t thought to snag those too.

Reading her thoughts, her struggles, had become an obsession. It had taken football’s place. Instead of overthinking practices or replaying mistakes I’d made in a game, I’d fixated on this little book.

Sipping my coffee, I flipped it open to the page I’d read last night. The entry was from the lawnmower day. I’d long forgotten about that day, but after reading this entry, I could practically hear the noise from the cafeteria.

There was a lot in this journal that irritated me, but this entry pissed me right the fuck off. Because I hadn’t done anything wrong. Nellie had blamed me, like I’d done something malicious. When all I’d done was tell the truth.

There’d been a girl in Spanish class who’d been gossiping about Nellie. She’d been snickering that Nellie’s dad was unemployed, so I’d corrected her. Told her that Nellie’s dad was a gardener and that he worked at our place.

Just me sharing facts. Except Nellie had assumed I’d done it to spite her.

How could I have known it would become this thing through the school? Maybe my crime hadn’t been telling everyone to shut up.

“What are you reading?”

I flinched at the voice and my coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug. My glare flew to the woman at my side who was staring over my shoulder in an attempt to read Nellie’s diary.

I slammed the book closed and shook out my wet hand. “Who are you?”

“Harry. Short for Harriet.” She put her hands on her hips. Her gray hair was cut into a short pixie style. Her thick-framed glasses were the same color brown as her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Cal Stark. Though you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Finally emerged from your cave.” She motioned to the bus. “About time.”

I frowned. “You must be Marcy’s mother.”

“I am.” She gave me a single nod, turned on the heel of her cowboy boot and walked away.

I leaned forward in the chair, waiting to see if she’d come back, but then a door slammed shut.

“Okay,” I drawled and swallowed the rest of my coffee. I was about to head in for a refill when Harry appeared, rounding the side of the RV with her own camp chair in tow.

Well, fuck.

So much for hiding.

She set up her chair beside mine, close enough that our arm rests were touching. Then she plopped down in the seat and let out a sigh.

I stared at her profile, waiting for her to speak, but she sat there, her eyes aimed at the grassy field that stretched behind the motel. “Did you need something?”

“Did I ask you for something?”

“No.”

“Then I guess you answered your own question.”

I blinked.

“My chair is better than yours,” she declared. It had a sturdy metal frame and folded in half rather than collapsed into a column. The material was a thick, gray mesh instead of my green canvas.

“So it is.”

“People tell me I’m blunt.”

I chuckled. “People tell me the same.”

“Small talk annoys me.”

“Same here.”

“If you give me any bullshit about the weather, I’ll walk.”

“Is that all it will take? Because today is beautiful. It’s supposed to get into the seventies. Ten percent chance of rain around five.”

“Smart-ass,” she muttered. “I like to sleep in, so don’t get too loud in the mornings.”

“Have I been loud?”

“Not yet. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Fair enough.”

She sank deeper into her seat, stretching out her legs and crossing one ankle over the other. Her Wrangler jeans were rolled into a cuff at the hem. “I don’t like visitors.”

I arched an eyebrow and nodded to her chair. “Neither do I.”

“We’re neighbors. That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Entirely.” She said it was different, therefore, it was different. This was a woman who didn’t argue. Harry was a boss. “My daughter is busy.”

“Marcy?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “She takes care of a lot of things on her own. From time to time, I do some housekeeping to help her out. Summers are busy.”

“She mentioned that the other day.”

“You’re paying her to clean?”

“Yes.” I sat up straighter, unsure where this was going but sure I wasn’t going to like it. “She rented me the bus, like a motel room.”

“Ah.” Harry nodded. “Well, I volunteered to clean the Winnebago for her. Like a motel room.”

“You?” This woman had to be over seventy years old. There was no way I’d be able to sit back and let her scrub my toilet or mop the floors.

“Me.”

Fuck. I blew out a long breath. “Forget it. I’ll clean it myself.”

A smile ghosted her lips. Guess that was what she’d wanted to hear. And that was the reason for her visit. One moment she was lounging in her superior chair, the next she was on her feet, gone without another word.

“Nice chat, Harry,” I called as she disappeared around the RV’s corner.

“See you around, Cal,” she called back.

I shook my head and stood, leaving both chairs in place as I went inside for more coffee. The moment I stepped through the door, my phone rang. Pierce’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Hi,” he said. “You busy?”

“No. What’s up?”

“Nellie just called. Something’s wrong with her car. She was on her way to the office and it broke down. She called for a tow but I guess the driver’s out on another call. It’s going to be a while.”

And there probably weren’t a lot of other garages with tow trucks in Calamity.

“I don’t want her sitting on the side of the road for hours,” Pierce said. “I’d pick her up myself, but we just got to the hospital for Constance’s checkup. I’ll be a bit. I get that you two have . . . issues. But can you set them aside and go get her?”

The baby was crying in the background. Pierce had called me when they’d gotten home from the cabin but I hadn’t seen him since before they’d left. He sounded exhausted. “Yeah. I got her. No problem.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you directions.”

“’Kay.” I ended the call and dragged a hand through my hair. Damn. I wasn’t ready to face Nellie yet, but when Pierce asked for help, I helped.

So I grabbed my keys, forgetting the coffee. I shot Nellie’s diary a glare, leaving it on the counter, then headed for my car.

My phone dinged as I climbed behind the wheel. Then I followed the directions in Pierce’s text down First Street and to the highway, taking a few turns until I was headed down a narrow road bordered by a barbed wire fence.

Nellie’s silver sedan glinted beneath the sky. The woman herself was leaning against the driver’s side door with her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was nearly a perfect white under the sun, like untouched snow. She’d curled the silky strands today and the waves spiraled down her shoulders and spine. Her lips were painted a sinful shade of red.

She pushed off the car and stood tall as I eased off the road and parked behind her. Her lips flattened when I stepped outside.

Guess she wouldn’t be greeting me with a smile today.

“Hey.” I jerked up my chin.

“I see that Pierce didn’t listen when I told him I’d be fine to just wait for the tow truck.”

“So I can go?” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder.

“No,” she muttered. “Could you give me a ride to the office?”

“That’s why I’m here. But you have to say please.”

She was constantly telling me to say please. To mind my manners. It was refreshing to throw that her direction for a change.

“Please.”

“Better.”

She rolled her eyes and turned, opening her door before bending inside. Her slacks molded to the curve of her ass. Her blouse rode up, revealing the dimples at her lower back.

My cock jerked. My hands inched for a touch. Just one. To grab those hips and palm that ass. This was not a safe direction for my thoughts, so I spun away and kicked a pebble across the pavement. “What’s up with your car?”

“I have no idea.” She hauled a tote bag from the car and slammed the door closed. The keys she tucked beside the gas cap. “The check engine light came on and then the engine revved before there was this nasty burning smell. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just pulled over.”

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“Awesome.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “That sounds like I won’t have a working car today.”

“Doubtful.”

“Great,” she deadpanned as she walked past me for my car.

I let myself take a single look of her ass in those slacks and the sway of her hips. Then I got behind the wheel and slammed a pair of shades over my eyes. “Which direction?”

“Straight for about two miles. Then the road curves. Just follow it.”

The scent of her perfume filled the cab as I pulled onto the road. It was the smell of beauty and temptation. I hit the button to roll down the window.

Nellie did the same to hers.

We rode in silence, the air whipping through the cab until a building came into view. It was a single story with sparkly windows and rustic, wooden siding. Clearly new. Clearly expensive. But it complemented the natural landscape and the mountain foothills in the backdrop.

Nellie rifled through her bag, snatching a different set of keys as I eased into the empty parking lot.

“Is anyone here?”

“No, it’s just me right now until the others move. Thanks for the ride.”

“Welcome.” How was she supposed to get home?

She moved to open the door but stopped when her fingertips grazed the handle. “About the other night, at Jane’s. I’m sorry.”

“For what? Making me spend a bunch of money?”

“No.” She shook her head. “When I said I hated you.”

“Don’t you?”

The apology was clear on her face. But the answer to my question was not. She lifted a shoulder. Not a yes. Not a no.

Did she hate me? According to her diary, she’d hated me at fourteen. She’d probably hated me since. And maybe she’d apologized for voicing it on Monday. But that didn’t necessarily make it untrue.

“Thanks again.” She opened the door and stepped outside.

“I’ll pick you up at five.” The sentence flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find a ride. They might even have my car fixed by then.”

We both knew the chances of that were slim. “It’s just a ride, Nellie. And I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Fine.” Her shoulders sagged. “Five.”

“Hey, Nell?” I stopped her before she could shut the door.

“Yeah?”

“Do you? Hate me?”

There was no mistaking the vulnerability in my voice. This was her chance to shove the dagger in deep. To shred me to ribbons. To go for the kill.

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Not today.”

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