You've Got Tail by Renee George Read Free Book Online

“…peaches and cream.”
    All right, an even stranger colloquialism. “Uh, back at ya.”
    â€œI mean to say, your fanny’s showing, dear. Just thought you should know.”
    Embarrassing, most definitely. Note to self: Booty shorts may not be appropriate attire for the Ozarks.
    Under Jean’s reproachful stare, I pulled them down in the back. She smiled again. It was sort of freaking me out.
    I didn’t move or stop holding my breath until Jean and the sheriff pulled away.
    The buzzing in my ears had settled into a dull hum. Maybe the change in air pressure was causing it and there would be a short adjustment period before it went away.
    As I walked down the street, I passed an antique shop, a quilt shop, and a leather and tack store, before pausing outside of Blonde Bear Cafe. I should have asked Babel if he wanted lunch. Not a date or anything, just a bite to eat.
    Man, I would have liked to take a bite out of him. He’d be a seven-course meal complete with dessert. Thinking about the way he would taste almost made me forget how irritated I was with him. Thinking about how Chav might feel about me crushing on her baby bro reminded me how irritated I was at myself.
    The dog, the one with the white ear, appeared next to me while I contemplated how filling Babel would be for lunch. Cold fear knotted my stomach, stripping the lust-filled thoughts from my mind. Outwardly I kept calm. The beast hadn’t done anything threatening yet. Yet being the operative word. It lay down in front of me, and I felt a push inside my head.
    Judah.
    â€œJudah?” I said. The dog looked up perceptively, and if it hadn’t been of the four-legged variety, I’d have said it seemed shocked. Did this dog know something about Chav’s brother? Maybe this was his dog? “Did you belong to Judah?”
    It blinked its eyes once at me.
    â€œBetter question, are you planning on making a meal out of me?” I tried to put humor in my voice when I said it, but I was serious as hell.
    It blinked twice, and I hoped like crazy once was yes and twice was no. Maybe I should have established some kind of baseline.
    The door to the cafe opened. Blondina Messer was holding the door. The dining room smelled of grilled onions, hamburgers, and fries. All the stuff you’d expect in a country restaurant.
    My stomach turned a little. I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat. It’s not a personal choice, more like a necessity. Now, don’t get the impression that I’m a health freak, I’m not. I’m all about Sticky Buns and Otis Spunkmeyer Chocolate Chocolate Chip Muffins and glazed donuts. (Just thinking about those tasty carbs makes me salivate. Pavlov’s dog has nothing on me.) But for as long as I can remember, meat of any kind has made me physically and psychically ill. I throw up, I have visions of blood pouring from the poor creatures’ wounds, and more often than I like, I pass out. So, vegetarian.
    Blondina clucked her tongue. “Well, come on in. Unless you plan on just standing around all day gathering flies.”
    Stunned, I stuttered, “Uh, yes. To the coming in, not the gathering flies part.”
    She laughed, and it was deep and loud, like a man’s burly laugh. It shook her all over. Even her bleached-blonde hairdo trembled. “Then come on,” she said.
    I looked down at the dog, who was blocking my way and wasn’t moving, so I stepped around him and into the cafe. Blondina sat me at a table and brought over a menu. “What’d you like to start with, honey?”
    I’d never been darlin’-ed, sugared, or honeyed so much in my entire life. Not even by people who knew me well enough to call me darling, sugar, or honey. Funny enough, it didn’t really bother me. It felt downright homey. “I guess I’ll start with coffee?” I made it a question.
    â€œGood choice, Sunny. Cream or sugar?”
    â€œJust black.