Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I also got the best blow job of my life. I imagine that helped a lot.
“How about this?” I meet his eyes in the mirror. “What if I ask Lainey if she’ll come over again this weekend?”
Dean hops on the balls of his feet. “Can you? Please? We can build a LEGO set and have a dance party—”
“Since when do you like dance parties?” I laugh.
“Since now. Okay, so you’ll ask Lainey to come over tomorrow—”
“No guarantees on the date.”
“Will you promise?” He holds up his pinkie.
Turning, I hook my own pinkie through his. “Promise. Now what do you think—do I go hat or no hat?”
Dean pushes out his lips as he looks up at me. “I think you wear the hat. Your brown one that’s nice that you wear at Christmas?”
I smile. “I like that idea.”
Donning my “fancy hat,” as Dean calls it, I head out into the kitchen, where I find Nash and Tate chowing down on bowls of the chili I’ve had simmering in the Crock-Pot all day.
“Help yourselves, why don’t you,” I say with a smile. I look at Nash. “Also, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m hanging out with my nephew, that’s what.” Nash gives Dean the hip check he’s looking for. “Yo, man. Are we gonna have the best night ever or what?”
“Yeah!” Dean leaps into the air. “Can we eat popcorn and watch movies and play football too?”
Tate ducks his head as he shovels a spoonful of chili into his mouth. “Duh. Remind me—you’ll play—”
“Quarterback!” Dean is grinning ear to ear. “Because I’m so tall and also so good at football.”
Tate smacks his forehead. “That’s right! How could I forget? I’ll play tight end—”
“Don’t you dare.” But I still chuckle, my chest swelling.
My brothers may sometimes act like those degenerates Dad was talking about earlier, but they always, always show up for my son.
They show up for me.
Maybe you are doing something right.
Maybe you show up for them too without realizing it.
“The hat’s the right call, by the way.” Tate looks me up and down. “Dang, boy, you clean up nice.”
Bending down, I swipe a stuffed robot off the floor. “The miracle of a shower.”
“You should take them more often,” Tate says. “That’s a euphemism, by the way.”
I straighten. “For what?”
“For, you know…” He wags his brows. “Getting clean before you get dirty.”
Nash lets out a bark of laughter, nearly choking on his chili.
I grab my wallet and keys from the cabinet beside the sink. “And I’m leaving. Love y’all. I’ll be home by ten.”
Tate cuts me a meaningful look. “If you’re home by ten, I’m sending you back out.”
“I been up since four thirty.” I adjust my belt. “I’ll be shocked if I make it to nine.”
“Famous last words. Don’t rush, yeah?”
“Sure.” I flip my keys. “Thank y’all. Seriously. Kinda hard to believe I’m the one heading to the Rattler while y’all are staying in.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Nash replies. “Now go have fun.”
I’m kinda nervous on the drive to Lainey’s. At least my truck smells good. Dean and I gave her a thorough cleaning after school today, even wiping down the dash and leather with lemon-scented wipes.
I glance at the glove box. My need for nicotine is acute. But I made a promise to Lainey, and I intend to keep it.
Also, was it presumptuous of me to toss some condoms in there earlier today, along with the handcuffs? I don’t know how any of this works anymore. Safe sex is good sex. I hope we get to use one or two or four of those condoms tonight, but I’m never one to count my chickens before they’re hatched.
The lights are on in her apartment when I pull into the little gravel driveway in front of the barn. I turn off the ignition and try to get a handle on my runaway pulse.
You always rise to the occasion.
Trust yourself.
We can do hard things.
The last one is a line I say often to my son. I wonder if I’m the one who’s needed that reminder all along.
I kill the engine and head for her door. I ring the bell and wait, heart in my throat.
“Come in!” I hear her call. “Door’s open.”
I do as she tells me and climb the stairs to her second-floor apartment. It already smells like her inside: herbal, like tea, mixed with her perfume.
My body thrums with awareness.
Mounting the last step, I look to my right and there she is. She’s looking in the giant wall mirror by the sofa, putting in an earring.
Glancing over her shoulder, her face splits into a brilliant smile. It’s a bullet straight to the chest.
“Hey, Colton.”
I feel myself bleeding out as I take her in. Gorgeous. Sexy.
Beautiful.
She’s wearing the world’s shortest polka-dot dress underneath a white leather jacket. Matching white cowboy boots that put those fucking legs on display. Her thighs are bare.