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He thinks he’s funny, but it never comes off that way.”
    He raised an eyebrow, “He should meet my aunt. That’s a big woman.”
    “I don’t know what to say to that.”
    “Seriously, she’s pushing four hundred pounds.”
    “If you tell me you like big women I’m going to punch you in your perfect abs.”
    “How do you know they’re perfect?”
    “Don’t change the subject.”
    “You changed the subject talking about my perfect abs.”
    I giggled and poked him in his perfect rib. “Very funny.”
    Sawyer came back with a cake, “Hey, can I bring this holder thing back tomorrow?”
    “Yes. I won’t need those again for a couple days. Take whatever you want, I’ll come get the containers in the morning on my way back from Verizon.”
    “Haw!! Score!!” He thrust his invisible sword in the air at the guy coming out, “Seize the booty boys!! The Cappy says we can have all we can carry!!”
    I doubled over again. “That man ain’t right.” I can’t stop laughing.
    “They don’t get out much.”
     
    The guys finally cleaned me out. Literally. Not that I mind. The house smells good. Like my neighbors fireplace burning. I like that. Bits went outside to reclaim his territory as I closed windows and turned off a few of the unnecessary fans.
    Trace is cleaning up the carnage of my kitchen. “Sorry about my brother.”
    “Don’t be. I haven’t laughed that hard in years. I’m amazed he was able to grab two guys and get out here so fast.”
    “He was at the club waiting for his shift to end. Those two weren’t fire fighters. They were prospects.”
    “Club? Prospects? What are you talking about?”
    “Exiles. You know, the motorcycle club in AJ.”
    “Yeah, but… oh. Oh. Oh shit.” I took a little better look at Wrangler. Trace. “Santa Fe.”
    He looked suspicious and tossed the dish towel to the counter. “That’s where I moved from. Did I tell you that?”
    “No. Is your last name Colson?”
    “Yes.” He’s about to gnaw on his lip.
    “We can’t see each other.” Shit!! This is just my luck.
    “You’re going to have to tell me why.” He followed me to the living room where I stood by my gas fireplace. I wonder if you can burn real wood in this thing.
    I cringed when he bore down using his height to stop my pacing. “You need to talk to Robert, I mean Slider. I can’t talk to you about it. He has to tell you.”
    “Tell me what?” Intimidation is all but oozing from his pores. Colson. All Colson.
    “Go talk to him.”
    “We’re supposed to be going out to dinner.” He argued.
    “I need to get dressed if we’re still going out. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll be back. Go see your brother. Please.” Don’t take the pig. Don’t take the pig. I prayed to myself.
    He studied me for a moment too long, “I’m not going to take your pig. What kind of man do you think I am?” How does he do that?? Maybe it was written all over my face. I love the little Bacon Bits. He’s my baby.
    I exhaled, “I think you’re a good man, but I really need you to go see your brother.”
    “Shit.” He cursed and stepped back to withdraw his phone from his front shirt pocket.
    “Wrangler, go see him. Don’t call.”
    “Don’t tell me how to talk to my brother, and don’t call me Wrangler. What did I tell you about that?” He turned away from me into his phone. “Hey. I need to know why a doctor Celeste Skye is telling me to call you before I kiss her.”
    There was a long silence that sent me to the kitchen. I don’t want to hear this.
    Slider, aka Robert Colson Jr., is a patient. One I inherited from my father. My father is still alive and well, he’s just retired. The patients he coveted most were given to me the day of his accident. That’s when my father became the patient in more ways than one.
    He was hit by a truck driver who fell asleep behind the wheel, then dragged more yards than I care to remember. The fact that he survived is a miracle. The struggle to maintain