Page 8 of With Spite

The way he said it made it sound like it’d be better for me to work my ass off than him.

A bad feeling started to take root, but despite that feeling, I still liked Harvey just as much as his sister.

My lips quirked. “Noted.”

“Why are you talking and not getting anything done?”

The stern, no-nonsense, dictatorial voice had me turning around to see the woman who’d interviewed me before I’d gone back home to retrieve my belongings and moved to Montana.

I shivered, having forgotten how intimidating she’d sounded.

Like a drill sergeant dressed up in a sweet older woman’s body.

“We’re giving her a tour, Mother. Like you asked,” Heidi ground out. “On my day off, might I add. I’m showing her the ropes, then I’m leaving. Remember?”

Vera’s face screwed up like she wanted to protest, but chose to hold her tongue.

I looked at Heidi who looked ready to do battle, and realized why the older woman had stopped.

I wouldn’t play with Heidi right then, either.

“And you?”

I looked over to find another man who looked eerily similar to Harvey sitting at the bar where customers could eat their deli sandwiches quickly and go.

I hadn’t realized that he was there until right then.

He could be Harvey, but adding a couple of years.

“Can’t stay long today,” he said. “Just thought I’d run by and introduce myself. One of the kids is sick,” the man replied to his mother.

“Hampton…”

“Mother,” the man named Hampton drawled. “I’m not sure why you’re so upset here. We all have jobs. And I have sick kids and a wife at home. I’m sorry that you want me here, all day every day, but that’s just not how life works.”

This sounded like an old argument.

One that I didn’t want to be a part of.

I held out my hand for the handsome Hampton and said quietly, “Nice to meet you. I’m Bernice.”

Hampton’s lips twitched.

He knew that I was trying to de-escalate the situation.

I didn’t do well with fighting.

In fact, it made me want to break out in hives.

Even worse, raised voices made me cringe.

I could tell that this conversation was well on its way to yelling.

The door behind us slammed, and we all turned to see a large, tattooed man walking from the back room toward us.

He looked similar to the other brothers, but this man didn’t have flawless tan skin like his brothers.

His skin was nicely tanned, sure. But he had so many tattoos that the tan nearly became irrelevant.