Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Sparky greets me as I step down from the truck. A big grin on his placid face. “You made it.”
“I did. I can’t believe I found the place without Jigsaw.”
He holds up a thin, brown paper bag. “Treats for the fights.” His forehead scrunches. “Fights are really bloody. You might want to be high to watch.”
I take the bag and slip it into my purse. “I don’t know if I’m falling for that again.”
Last time I ate one of Sparky’s THC-laced masterpieces I had Jigsaw to protect me while I floated in and out of consciousness at Teller’s wedding.
He nods solemnly. “That one was, uh, nuclear. This? Just a little kick.” He waggles his hand. “Maybe save it for when Jigsaw’s back, just in case.”
I squint at him. “Define ‘little kick.’”
He shrugs, already turning toward the clubhouse.
Laughing to myself, I open the back door and pull out the long Tupperware container of THC-free black and white cookies I made.
The low thump of bass and muffled crowd noise from the big-screen TV hits me first. The clubhouse living room’s been transformed—extra recliners, beanbags, blankets spread out on the floor, all angled toward the massive flat screen on the wall. Snacks and drinks at the bar by the door.
On the screen, two men are circling each other inside a cage. One’s already bleeding, a red river streaming down the side of his face.
“Wait, did I miss it?” My voice comes out more anxious than I intend.
“Oh, Margot!” Hope appears like the fairy godmother of the clubhouse—graceful, composed, and welcoming. A warm smile lights up her face as she hurries over and pulls me into a soft, reassuring hug. “I’m so glad you made it.” She waves a hand at the television. “No, this is one of the early fights. They’re going all day. Griff’s is last.”
“If you want something more mellow, let me know,” Sparky says to me, then wanders over to a nest of blankets piled on the floor with a couple of the other brothers I vaguely recognize. He flops down flat on his stomach like a teenager at a sleepover. His gaze locks on the screen, already half-lost in the action.
Hope throws a fond smile his way and shakes her head, her dark red hair sliding over the shoulder of her cozy purple sweater.
I hold up the container in my hands. “I brought black and white cookies.”
Her green eyes light with genuine interest. “Oooo.” She rubs her hands together. “Thank you. I only got to try one at the bonfire. They were so good.”
She takes the container, nudging aside a few items on the bar to make room. Without hesitation, she plucks a few cookies out, setting them on a napkin.
Warmth shoots through me. Silly as it is, now I’m ridiculously proud I remembered to make them last night. At least I brought something one person will enjoy.
Lilly walks down the long hallway from the dining room, spots me, and waves.
“There you are.” She crosses the room with a warm smile, pausing just long enough to hold out her arms in silent question. When I step forward, she wraps me in a soft, full-body squeeze.
Overwhelmed by all the affection. I pull back and yank my face into a smile.
“We’ve got more food set up in the dining room if you’re hungry.” Lilly leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “A lot of us are hanging out down there with the kids. This,” she waves a hand toward the screen, “is a little much for them.”
“Yeah, I can, uh, see why.” The guys on the screen are now wrestling on the floor of the cage. The two men are tangled in a violent knot on the mat. Their bodies so tightly pressed together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
Hope turns, her gaze scanning everyone in the living room. “Oh, Teller’s placing bets if that’s something you’re interested in.”
My gaze lands on Teller’s long frame, folded into one corner of the couch, a laptop balanced on the armrest. Charlotte’s curled up next to him, legs tucked beneath her, calmly watching the chaos unfold on-screen while talking to her husband. Rock’s settled in the chair beside them, eyes fixed on Teller’s screen. Every so often, he nods or shakes his head, quiet approval or a subtle veto, I can’t tell.
“Margot!” someone calls from the far corner of the living room. A hand shoots up, waving wildly.
Lilly laughs and rests her hand on my shoulder. “Serena’s been looking for you since she and Grinder got here.”
“Really?” My voice comes out higher than I intended, threaded with a pinch of desperation I hate that I revealed.
“Of course.” A slight frown pinches between Hope’s eyebrows. “We were all so happy you could join us.”
Now that Serena’s called attention to me, the room shifts. Every face turns my way and offers a greeting. I wiggle my fingers in response, my skin heating.