Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Is that Colt?” I whisper-hiss to Bonnie.
“Sounds like it. I called Western, I swear.”
Squinting my eyes, I see two shadowy figures coming down the path and onto the beach. It is Colt and Western. Dammit. I’m not ready to face him. Not after what happened with us last night. I give Bonnie a concerned look, and she smiles, a poor attempt at making me feel better. All I can say is I’m lucky I’m absolutely smashed because, otherwise, I would probably be running right now.
“Jesus,” Western mutters. “You two were meant to be goin’ to lunch.”
“We did,” Bonnie chirps, pushing to her feet before swaying and stumbling backward.
Western reaches out and catches her.
Colt’s eyes move to Andrea, who is slowly getting to her feet. He looks like he’s less than impressed to be here, and when she faces him, his jaw tightens even more.
“Well, haven’t you aged like a fine wine. It’s nice to see you again, Colt. It has been a long time.”
Colt nods, sharply. “It has.”
“We missed you around these parts. The ladies, mostly.”
God.
I know exactly what she’s saying. She’s saying that Colt probably ploughed his way through the ladies before he met Chloe. Judging by the way she’s looking at him, she was one of them. Here I am feeling guilty about having sex with him, but really, the man has poked it in just about every hole he can find on this side of the globe.
My thought has me bursting out into giggles.
“You better get her home,” Andrea says. “Be nice. She’s a good one.”
With that, she walks off, leaving us in the hands of two very grumpy looking bikers.
“Get in the truck,” Colt orders, his voice gruff.
“I’ve got mine, we’re goin’ separately,” Western tells Bonnie.
“Wait,” Bonnie says, steadying herself by hanging onto Western’s arm. “Why?”
“Got business in a town just near here, you’re comin’ with me. Got a motel. Dad’s got shit to do back at the club, he’ll take Myla.”
“Oh, wonderful,” I say, my voice high pitched and riddled with sarcasm. “Send me with the angry one.”
Colt makes a guttural, pissed off sound. “Get in the truck.”
“If I knew were ... knew you are ... knew you were ....” Jesus, I’m drunk.
“Fuck me, get in the truck,” Colt mutters, taking my arm and hauling me up off the ground.
I stumble, a whole lot, and my head spins as he leads me to the truck waiting in the now empty parking lot.
“Bye, Bonnie,” I call, waving at her as Western leads him to his truck. “I had so much fun!”
“Byyyyeeee!” Bonnie calls back.
Colt opens the door to the truck and tries to push me in, but I spin around until I’m facing him. God damn he smells good, probably because I’m so close. How the hell did I get so close? He takes a step back.
“Why don’t you come here anymore?” I ask.
“What the fuck were you doin’ here?”
He doesn’t answer the question, he just throws one at me in return.
“Well,” I say, wiggling a finger in his face, “you refuse to tell me anything, so I have to get answers myself.”
“There are no fuckin’ answers,” he snaps.
“Oh, really? Then what did Chloe see that made her want you to leave the club?”
He seems shocked, and, for a moment, he stares at me. Then, he leans in close and growls, “None of your fuckin’ business.”
“It is my business when I’m being threatened by some crazy person who keeps coming to my damned house!”
“Who is comin’ to your house?”
“Well,” I mumble, “if I knew, we wouldn’t be here ...”
Seems kind of obvious.
Someone didn’t bring their thinking cap tonight.
“Just get in the truck. I’m not in the mood.”
I snort, turning and fumbling my way into the truck. “Are you ever in the mood?”
He doesn’t answer.
I buckle myself in and he begins the long drive back home. I’m curious as to why he would offer to come all the way out here to pick me up. He could have made anyone else do it. That’s the joy of being higher up in a club. He can call the shots. Well, Western calls the shots now but Colt is, and always will be, highly respected by everyone there, including his son.
Maybe he wants to talk?
“Should we talk about the elephant in the truck?” I say, then burst out into a fit of giggles.
“We’re not talkin’ about shit while you’re drunk,” he mutters. “Go to sleep.”
“We fucked. Last night. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen; you also can’t deny it was amazing.”
My stupid drunk brain is nearly as dumb as my drugged brain.
“I fuck a lot, nothin’ new there.”
Harsh.
I’m quite tired of him.
“I don’t know what she saw in you,” I say, staring at him in the darkness, only the occasional streetlight illuminating his face. “I’ve tried, lord knows I’ve tried, but I can’t see how she fell so in love with a man who doesn’t seem to own a heart. Other than the fact that you have a bomb dick, I just can’t make sense of it.”