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)
“Well, shoot. Really?” Her eyes widen. “I didn’t know. That’s wild. Is he older or younger than Jezzie?”
Shit. I can’t have her telling Jezzie before I have a chance to. “Younger. But neither of us have seen him in years. It’s complicated. Please don’t say anything to her yet. I…I need to figure out what he wants first.”
She frowns. “You think he’s dangerous?”
“Maybe.”
Shelby blinks and stares at me as that sinks in. “Of course I wouldn’t go blabbin’ your business unless you told me it was okay. I won’t say a thing.” She swipes her finger over her chest in an X. “Promise, bestie.”
A genuine smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Thanks.”
“When do we get to meet him?” She glances up at Rooster. “Or have you already met him?” There’s no venom in her question. No quiet scolding that Rooster knew about this but didn’t share the info with her.
Rooster’s intense gaze is focused on me, but I can’t figure out what message he’s trying to burn into my skull. “Just once, years ago,” he says.
“Funny story, songbird,” I say, ignoring Rooster’s mood shift. “Being on tour with you is how he found me. His mom saw my picture in one of those gossip rags that love publishing pics of you and your biker entourage.”
She hoots with laughter. “Well, damn, look at me. The family reunion maker.” Her laughter abruptly stops. “Shoot. I sure hope my dad doesn’t find me the same way.”
Rooster and I have already discussed how we’ll handle it if he ever does show his face.
“Do ya guys look alike?” she asks.
“Z seemed to think so.”
She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Well, I hope everything works out. If you need help talkin’ to Jezzie or something, let me know.”
I’m not sure how that would help, but it’s a nice offer. “I will, thanks.”
“And I hope you’re bringing Margot around again, soon?” She glances up at Rooster. “You really should have her over to the house. She hasn’t even seen your place yet. Rooster can show off his fancy new grill.”
“Yeah, I want to. She’s always on call, though. So it’s hard to get away.”
“You’re okay staying there?”
“Yeah, her place is nice.” I slap Rooster’s arm. “He saw it. She’s not keeping me in cold storage or anything.”
Shelby’s lips turn up slightly. “Okay. Well, we just miss ya.”
Behind her, Rooster shakes his head and mouths, Nah.
“Thanks, songbird,” I say, ignoring Rooster.
Her concerned eyes study me for a few more beats. “Don’t disappear on us after church today, okay? Heidi and I are making banana pancakes.” She holds her hand up and twists her middle finger over her index. “Prayin’ we don’t make a big ol’ mess.”
“I’m sure you won’t”
Rooster keeps his eyes on her the whole time she crosses the lot and skips up the steps into the clubhouse, so I don’t bother saying anything until the door closes behind her.
“Thanks for keeping that under wraps,” I say.
“I don’t know why I bother since you tell her everything anyway.” The corner of his mouth turns up for a second, then he frowns and fixes his concerned brother eyes on me. “Why so gloomy today?”
The scrutiny feels too heavy, and I take a step away from him. “What’re you talking about?”
“No motherclucker jokes.” He squints at me. “No devilish gleam in your eyes.”
“Jeeezus Christ.” I roll my eyes skyward. “You startin’ to write songs with Shelby now? Devilish gleam? What the fuck?”
He grins and claps me on the back. “That’s better. But seriously, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He moves around me and lowers the tailgate of his truck. “Help me unload this. Maybe it’ll loosen your tongue.”
“Unload what?” I move closer, peering into the bed of the truck.
He flips the hard cover back, revealing neat stacks of white and blue bags. “Salt. Remember the giant palette I got that deal on? I said I’d bring some up for Z. He’s out.”
“Already?” I lean in and start dragging the twenty-five-pound bags to the edge of the tailgate. “Uh, I’m not carrying these all the way back there.”
“Well, that path isn’t big enough. I’m not scratching the shit out of my truck.”
“What a drama queen.” I jerk my thumb toward the garage. “The UTV’s in there, let me get it.”
Actually, there’s more than one outdoor vehicle in here. If it’s parked in the main garage, it’s gotta be for any brother to use, right? The labels on each set of keys leads me to believe the answer is yes. Christ, if Dex is maintaining all these additional vehicles for the club, then I’ve really been slacking on my road captain duties. We only have one old shitty UTV downstate that I change the oil in, maybe rotate the tires—if I remember—like once every six months. Might be time to give it more than a half-assed once-over before someone blows the engine.