Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“Nope. I’m quite happy with my girl, thank you very much.” He dismisses me in an instant.
I smile on the inside. “I’m available if you need me.” That soon wins back his attention, and it’s not positive attention. “Just saying.” I hold up my hands, a show of surrender.
“Well don’t.” My cheerful mate, whose eyes are constantly sparkling happily, is on the verge of snarling. “It was a one-off eight years ago.”
I turn to the bar, getting hold of my amusement quickly before he slugs me one. One time eight years ago, Sam’s now-girlfriend decided she wanted to dabble in all things kinky. We gave her what she wanted. Boy, did we give her what she wanted. I didn’t get attached, never do. But Sam did.
He taps my knee, and I look toward the door where he’s staring, finding Jesse striding toward us with a face like thunder. I quickly signal to the barman for a beer. “My man!” Sam sings, smacking the surface of the bar.
“Fuck off,” Jesse grunts, and I laugh under my breath, bracing myself for a rant about all things concerning his daughter. Maddie is spirited. Jesse’s word, not mine. He slams his arse on the stool and practically snatches the beer out of the barman’s hand. We pipe down, facing the bar, and I peek out of the corner of my eye to find Sam grinning around the lip of his bottle. He’s asking for it.
I clear my throat and swoop in for some man-talk to distract Jesse from his daddy stress, at the same time distracting Sam from pushing him over the edge. “I have—”
I’m cut off when Jesse’s phone rings, and silence falls as we all stare down at his screen, where Ava’s name is flashing up like the warning light it is.
“Oh dear.” I sigh as Jesse snatches it up from the bar. My shoulders rise, a lame attempt to cover my ears, and I wince with the deep ache it spikes. Motherfucker. I reach up and rub into my muscles. I need to get this bad shoulder sorted.
“It’s not up for discussion, Ava,” Jesse answers in greeting, clean and to the point. Sam’s lips compress with contained laughter, earning a kick under the bar from me and a lethal glare from Jesse. He shrinks on his stool, though his laughter is warranted: we all know Ava’s feistiness drives Jesse to distraction, but displaying any amusement or offering advice is a fatal mistake. I’ve been friends with Jesse long enough to know that my opinion counts for shit when he’s dealing with his wife and kids. Even if he’s wrong, which most of the time he is. My eyes close when I hear Ava.
Clear. As. Day.
“It’s hair, Jesse,” she tells him, voice raised. “You’re being fucking dramatic as always.”
Sam and I wince, both waiting for it.
He slams his fist down on the bar, rocking the joint. “Watch your fucking mouth!”
“It’ll grow back.” Ava’s tone is quickly pacifying. It’s a waste of her time.
“You didn’t even consult me, for fuck’s sake,” he barks. “You and that little minx conspired against me, and now my baby girl is virtually bald!”
My lips press together, but Sam is past the point of help, his whole body out of control from laughing.
“It’s past her shoulders, Jesse. Stop being so damn unreasonable.” She may as well be waving a red flag to a fucking bull. “We’ll discuss it when you get home.”
“When I get home, Ava,” he breathes, strung out, his tone threatening to a point I’m even worried for Ava. “You better be hiding because there’s a retribution fuck on the horizon for you, lady.” He slams his phone down and sinks half his beer, heaving and bristling like a grizzly bear.
“So Maddie’s had her hair cut, then?” Sam asks. The man has a death wish.
“Butchered, more like.” Jesse swings toward us on his stool and points his beer across my chest to Sam. I retreat, out of the firing line. “And that woman of yours was in on the gig, too. A spa day, they said. Girl time, they said. They neglected to mention that my baby girl would come back with half a head of hair and pink fucking nails. She’s seven, for fuck’s sake!”
“Hey.” Sam backs off. “Kate’s her own woman. Nothing to do with me.”
Jesse scoffs, and I resort to taking matters into my own hands before he explodes. “So I have someone who requires my services.” I slap the piece of paper that Cole gave me on the bar.
Jesse and Sam immediately lean forward, distracted as planned, and peer at the paper. “Raya,” Sam muses.
“How’d she get hold of you?” Jesse asks.
“Through the club.” My answer prompts the usual curled lip from Jesse when I make reference to Hux. I laugh to myself. “Well, if you hadn’t sold The Manor, I wouldn’t be forced to find somewhere else to play.”