Chapter Two

Randy

T he drive from the ranch to the Wild Hare doesn’t take long. When I pull up, Eddie’s outside waiting for me. He’s switched out his typical uniform of jeans and black t-shirt for a nice tailored suit. Standing next to him is a pretty young Black woman in a conservative dress and low heels. She bounces around on the balls of her feet, rubbing her hands together like she’s trying to get warm. As I pull up, Eddie takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. She says something to him with a bright smile on her dark brown face and he smiles back.

They’re so wrapped up in each other that neither one turns to look at me until I’m practically on them.

“Boss,” Eddie says, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the woman. I nod politely in her direction, then look back at him. “I already called the sheriff and told them it was a false alarm.” The whine of the alarm is painful to my ears. Why no one has made ear plugs for wolves is beyond me. Maybe I should look into developing them now that my only responsibilities are shutting off alarms and feeding horses.

“Thank you so much for coming out, Mr. Lamar. I’m so sorry I set off the alarms.” The woman says, huddling under Eddie’s jacket. “Zander went through all the steps, but I must have missed one.”

Over the years that I owned the Wild Hare, it was common practice for us to rent the place out for parties and such. If you can look past the stripper poles and the stage, it’s a good place to host a get-together. It’s a big open space with lots of tables and chairs, and a bar. But in all those years, we’ve never had a Sunday morning party that I can recall.

“It’s Sunday morning. None of the staff will be available until after lunch to help you set up, Miss–” I look at her and she blinks back as a smile spreads across her face.

“I’m Michelle. And that’s actually perfect for us. We’re having services here.”

“Services?”

Eddie looks away with a smile on his bright red face.

“Ma’am, did you say services? As in church services?”

“I sure did, Mr. Lamar.” A bright grin lights up her face.

“Young lady, you know this is a strip club, right?”

She chuckles. “Jesus loved everyone, Mr. Lamar.”

“But Jesus’s fan club does not.”

She laughs. “Fair enough, but our church family is a little different. We were growing too big for our current location, and Zander offered a discount for the time, since it’s not a popular time for parties.”

“And you’re sure you want to host your services here?”

Her smile is bright and lights up her entire face. “I am sure. It is the perfect size at the perfect price.”

I look at Eddie. “And you’re here to keep an eye on things?”

“Yeah, boss.”

I wonder which one of my nephews thought it was funny to have our resident demon keep an eye on church services. I shake my head as I step past them and into the front foyer of the bar. The keypad has always been a little bit wonky. I enter the code three times, hit it with my fist a few times, then enter the code once more before it finally shuts down.

“So the key is the three hits?” Michelle says, amusement in her voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here earlier next time and have it off before you get here,” Eddie promises her.

I look around the bar. I’ve been in it a million times when it was empty like this, but there’s something different about it today. Something heavy about standing here, in a place that’s no longer mine.

Eddie and Michelle talk around me, laughing about some private joke. I’d slip out and leave them to it, but they’re blocking the door. I clear my throat, suddenly eager to leave. “Have a good morning,” I tell them. Eddie steps aside to let me pass.

“You, too, boss.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Lamar!” Michelle calls out.

I nod politely in her direction and step past them, walking out the door into the cold air, and straight into a person carrying a tall stack of donut boxes. The boxes at the very top of the stack topple and fall to the ground as the person stops abruptly outside the door.

“Dangit,” a woman’s voice says from behind the boxes. She’s so bundled up for the weather–huge jacket, hat, gloves, fluffy scarf, the works–it’s impossible to see much of her face. “Ugh. Could you help me?” she asks, but I’m already reaching for the boxes.

Our eyes meet as I straighten up, and I realize the bundled up woman is not some random church lady, but Soojin, the owner of the Korean restaurant that shares the parking lot with the Wild Hare. It’s only been three days since I last saw her, but my stomach still twists in knots at the sight of her. It’s like being fifteen and hormonal all over again.

She sucks in a breath and looks down quickly. “Randy. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

There’s several feet between us, but now that I’ve stopped and paid attention, I can smell everything about her–her perfume, her shampoo, her laundry detergent. For as old as I am, my sense of smell seems to be just as strong as it ever was. Underneath all the artificial scents is the one that makes her unique, the one that drives me crazy every time she’s anywhere near me. It fills my head and lungs, making me dizzy. My fingers itch to touch her, to skim along the side of her face, to feel her soft lips against the pad of my thumb.

“I came to fix the alarm,” is all I can think to say. Of all the things I could say, it’s the absolute lamest. I hold the door open for her and Michelle greets her excitedly.

“Soojin, you’re such a blessing to us,” she says, tearing her eyes away from Eddie for the briefest of moments.

“Where should I put these?” she asks Michelle. The younger woman turns in a circle, taking it all in. She doesn’t say a word as her eyes scan over the stripper poles. Maybe she’s truly serious about not caring.

“You know, I don’t know. I was going to use the DJ’s area to give my sermon, so maybe you can set up chairs in that direction and we can have some tables lined up in the back of that?”

It’s not my job anymore to worry about anything that happens here, but I get the feeling Soojin will be setting up by herself as Michelle and Eddie continue their conversation. Soojin sets her boxes down on the bar. I follow her and watch as she pulls off her scarf, hat, and gloves, her long silky black hair falling across her shoulders.

Now that more of her skin is exposed to the air, her scent sends shivers up and down my spine. My mind wanders and I find myself balling my hands into fists as I force myself to keep from reaching out and running my fingers through her hair. The temptation to brush back the strands that have fallen in her face is just too much. I stick my hands in my pockets and look away as she shakes it out and then turns to me. “Would you mind helping me set up?”

I’d do so much more for this woman, if she’d ever shown the slightest interest. Retirement hasn’t changed that.

I nod.

“Of course.” I set the boxes down and follow her to the DJ’s table.