Page 193 of Property of Bob

I pulled a black T-shirt over my head.

Once the lumber was unloaded, I’d head over there. She hadn’t called and asked me to come by, which normally meant one of two things: she didn’t need anything, or she absolutely needed something but had decided she wasn’t going to ask.

I’d learned a long time ago it was easier to stop in than wait for the inevitable phone call where she casually mentioned she’d climbed onto a chair to reach something.

The woman was going to put me in an early grave. At least I knew where I could get a good casket and plot.

I snorted and grabbed my socks.

Peace View Cemetery was on the other side of Marshfield, and the Grave Prowlers had owned it for years.

Owning a cemetery made sense when you were in the death business.

Peace View was legitimate. Completely.

All we really had to do was deal with people buying plots, digging graves, and cutting the grass. Bull, Rowdy, and Dealer handled the cemetery for the most part.

The cemetery didn’t need to be dirty to be useful. Sometimes the best business was the kind nobody had to hide.

I pulled on my boots and stood, grabbing my phone from the bed.

My day was simple. Check the wood. Make sure whoever was unloading it didn’t fuck up slabs we’d waited months for, see if Myth needed anything, and then ride up the road and check on Ma.

After that, I’d come back, shower, eat, and see what the rest of the day brought.

Maybe take the bike out. Maybe drink a beer. Maybe do absolutely fucking nothing.

A deep horn suddenly blasted outside.

I glanced toward the window. “About damn time.”

The lumber truck was here.

I grabbed my cut from where I’d thrown it over the back of the chair the night before and shrugged it on. I ran my hands down the front, smoothing it into place, and caught my reflection in the mirror.

GRAVE PROWLERS MC.

WISCONSIN.

Another blast from the semi horn echoed outside.

“Hold your fucking horses.” I grabbed my keys, opened the door, and headed out. Time to get shit done.

Check out the first chapter of Sugar & Ink!

Chapter One

Josie

I stood behind the counter and looked around Scoop & Swirl, hardly believing it was real.

Six months ago, this place had been an empty shell with faded walls, stained floors, and enough dust to choke a person. Now it looked exactly the way I’d imagined it during all those nights when I’d lain awake staring at the ceiling and wondering if I’d completely lost my mind.

The walls were painted a soft mint green that somehow managed to feel cheerful without being obnoxious. White tables sat in front of the large windows facing Main Street. The display freezer gleamed beneath the lights. String lights framed the windows, and the giant mural of dancing ice cream cones I’d spent three days painting stretched across the back wall. Every inch of the place felt bright and welcoming.

It felt like mine.

I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the counter and slowly turned my head, taking everything in for what had to be the hundredth time. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, I’d unlock the front door and officially open for business. People would walk through those doors expecting ice cream, and somehow it would be my job to provide it.