Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Do you want to know your daughter?”
He didn’t say anything for the longest time, only stared up at the ceiling. Finally, he murmured, “Best to let it go.”
There was something in his voice that made an ache grow in her chest.
He didn’t want to let it go.
And there was no way Emma was doing that, either. She couldn’t let her daughter go, just like that. She was going to fight with every ounce of her being to get hers back.
He turned his head toward the nightstand and then sat up suddenly, making her tumble off his chest. “Fuckin’ gotta get downstairs ‘fore things go to shit.” He rolled off the bed, yanked on his jeans, still leaving them undone. He dragged a hand through his hair and down over his beard. “You gotta go an’ I gotta shower.”
Emma blinked. She was being dismissed. Just like that.
A wham, bam, and not even a “thank you, ma’am.”
“When can I start?”
He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was going to change his mind!
She sat up quickly and took the matter into her own hands. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning. Bright and early.”
“Ain’t no bright an’ early ‘round here. Ten-thirty. I’ll get Dawn to come in then an’ help get you ready.”
She got to her feet. “Thank you, Dawson.”
“Fuckin’ Dawg.”
“Sorry. Dawg. Dawson’s a nice name.” She gathered her own clothes, pulling them on as she found them.
“Been Dawg longer than been Dawson.”
As she moved around the living room, she realized how much she needed a shower, too. “Well, I like it.”
“Fuckin’ relieved.”
She glanced up from buttoning her blouse. “What?”
“Fuckin’ relieved that you like my name. Don’t mean you should use it.”
“Why not?”
“Ain’t me.”
She studied him for a moment. He was right. Dawson didn’t fit the way he looked on the outside, Dawg did. But she liked it anyhow. It was a good name for a good man.
Biker. Strip club manager. Selfless father.
She just knew deep down inside he was a Dawson. And there was more than met the eye with the big, gruff man before her.
She finished closing her blouse, raced over to him, grabbed a chunk of his beard, pulling his head down with a yank, and planted a big, fat kiss on his lips.
“Thank you, Dawson!”
Before the surprise could be hidden from his expression, she grabbed her heels off the floor and dashed out the door. She ran down the steps barefoot and back to her car, trying not to scream out her joy at things going her way for once.
Things might be looking up!
Finally.
Dawg leaned back against the bar, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight, his mouth curved downward.
This was a complete mistake.
His brain knew it. His instincts screamed it. But he, the stupid fuck that he was, ignored all the signs.
Why? Because the woman on stage right now screwing the pooch gave him a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.
That wasn’t the only reason why. Fuck no, it wasn’t.
He saw something in her that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Problem was, it was the same thing he had seen in his daughter’s mother.
Something he had wanted to hang on to but ended up being a pipe dream.
Stupid fuck that he was, he thought she’d settle for him. For a tattooed biker from the wrong side of the tracks.
Nope.
He’d been dead fucking wrong. Those couple of nights all those years ago, she only considered his dick a ride at the state fair while she held a fist full of tickets.
He’d been used.
Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. Pussy was pussy. Something to bust a nut into. But he had hoped... Fuck, he’d thought there was something different about her.
But, fuck him, there wasn’t.
And now he stood there staring up at Emma on stage, doing the worst pole dancing he’d ever seen, wearing shit that made him want to blow a fucking blood vessel. He didn’t think it would bother him quite that much when she got naked on stage in front of other men.
But it did.
Even if it was for only two of his regular daytime customers and another few stragglers that had wandered in off the street. And none of them were really paying attention to the awful moves that Ember was attempting to do.
Good fucking thing for that.
Instead, their attention was drawn to the daylight girls he had scheduled today. Dawn and Kitty were currently working the room with their tits all pushed up out of their tops, trying to convince the customers to buy them a drink and then crack open their tight wallets for private dances.
Sometimes they would. Sometimes they wouldn’t. Both of the regulars were pretty damn cheap. That’s why they came in during happy hour to drink.
“Thank fuck,” Dawg muttered when the song finally came to an end and Emma practically stumbled off the stage only wearing borrowed platform shoes and a baby blue G-string that hopefully wasn’t borrowed.