Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
He was there with a microphone in his hand, singing the lyrics of the song with all his heart.
“I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation! I've never been afraid of any deviation! And I don't really care if you think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change. And I'm never gonna care 'bout my bad reputation!”
He was wearing a tight-fitted white T-shirt and black jeans, and it was as if he was a punk-rock James Dean as he sang.
And I was going to sock him in the goddamn face.
I walked over, tripping a little on some uneven stones at the side of the patio.
“Storm,” I called out as the karaoke song ended, but too many of his friends were talking and hollering. My voice was drowned out. “Storm.”
I walked onto the patio and noticed an older woman sitting on one of Storm’s lounge chairs. She had her leg in an ankle brace, and her grey-white hair was up in a bun.
“That’s my boy!” she called out, grinning wide and clapping along. “Somebody get me another beer!”
“All yours, Mom,” Storm called out.
He only saw me because I was apparently standing next to the big cooler full of beer bottles.
Storm caught my eyes and immediately gave me his mischievous smile.
“Emmett! Want to sing a karaoke song?”
“Are you out of your mind?” I asked him.
“I mean, I know you couldn’t do Bad Reputation like I can. It’s kind of my signature song. But you could probably rock some Frank Sinatra or something. What do you think, Mom?”
“Well, look at you,” his mom said, glancing over at me. “You look like you came dressed for a formal dinner with the queen. Snazzy. Mary Rosling, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
I reached out my hand to shake hers, shoving away my anger with Storm for a moment. “Emmett Waycott. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary.”
I was never going to be rude to someone’s mother, even if I had a problem with Storm himself.
Storm passed his mom a beer and then walked over toward the fire pit. “Emmett. Come grab a marshmallow.”
I came up behind him and grabbed his hand, pulling him over toward the side of the yard. “Can I talk to you over here for a minute?”
“Ooh, goodness,” he said. “Are we going on a romantic stroll? Need to get me alone, Emmett?”
“Shut up,” I told him.
We walked over to the edge of the lawn, into an alcove between the side of his house and the fence that backed up to my yard. It wasn’t exactly fully private over by the gate, but it was as good as it was going to get, and nobody was in earshot.
Storm casually put one hand in his pocket and ran the other hand through his hair. I pulled in a long breath, trying to compose myself and not blurt out every frustrated thought all at once.
Being alone with Storm always activated something in me.
“You feeling okay?” he asked in his velvety voice.
“Not really,” I said, opting for honesty.
“What’s up, Sugar?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Did he call everyone sweet names like that, or was he just trying to mess with me? And did he always look this cute?
No. Don’t hold back. Don’t get distracted.
I stood up straight as I spoke. “You’re too good to show up to your own celebration at Jade Brewery but you’re having a loud party next to my house?”
“Not too good for it,” Storm said nonchalantly. “Actually, the Fixer Brothers guys should be here within the next hour. Invited them all to the afterparty here.”
I shifted on my feet. “So why didn’t you come tonight?”
“You missed me?” he asked with a gleam in his eye, acting all teasing and sweet again.
Something white-hot flashed through my chest. “You didn’t even bother showing up.”
“I’ve told you before, Emmett, you know nothing about me,” he said. “Stop assuming the worst.”
“So what was it, then?”
“I was about to leave for the brewery. Mom was here, and I was going to bring her along, because she loves a good party as much as I do. But one of the wood planks on this ancient patio gave out, and Mom twisted an ankle that was already bad to begin with. She wasn’t up for going out, so I asked the Fixer Brothers if they could just meet me here, instead.”
I clenched my jaw, trying to hide the small guilt pooling in my chest.
He only hadn’t shown up because he was taking care of his mom. Jax had told me that the guys were going to an afterparty somewhere, I just hadn’t known it would be here.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. I owed him that, at least, as hard as it was to say.
“All good, Fancy Pants,” he said, still calm and collected. His eyes skated over me, like he was sizing me up or deciding something about me.