Chapter Twenty-Three
Cash
“s**t,” Bobbi Jo hissed. “Well, it looks like I need to go.” She looked over her shoulder. “Bethy, can I get a box for this salad? I need to take it to go.”
I saw no reason to hurry away. “What’s the rush, Bobbi Jo? What’s so important that it can’t wait for you to finish eating your salad?”
“I’ve gotta get down to my dad’s office before someone else does.” She got up, boxed her salad, then hauled a*s out the door.
Her bottle of water still sat on the table, and I stared at it. “What the hell?”
Nothing made sense to me, and I figured nothing would until I got Bobbi Jo to trust me again. I left the Dairy King.
The truck had to stay back at the ranch to get the oil changed by the mechanic, so I’d driven one of the Mercedes to town to grab some lunch. Chef Tod
