Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Dax was already nodding his head, his eyes on me.
“I can leave Friday around eight in the morning after my workout,” he offered. “That’ll give us about four workable hours during business hours. Is that enough time to get done what you need to get done?”
I was already nodding my head, even though my knees were starting to feel weak.
“Great,” he said as he walked to the sink and washed his hands. “It’s a plan.”
With that, he shook my brother’s and Dad’s hands, then walked out the door and didn’t look back.
“He’s such a good kid,” Mom sighed.
Good? That wouldn’t be the word I would use to describe him, that’s for sure.
Chapter 5
I’m a F-bomb girl. I sprinkle that shit like confetti.
-Rowen to Katy
Rowen
“Thank you for the ride,” I said to my dad the next morning.
My dad rolled his eyes.
“Love you. Be careful.” He paused. “And don’t run over any more curbs.”
I sighed and got out of the truck but stopped to look at him before closing the door.
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “I was distraught.”
“And what happened when you hit my parked cruiser when you were sixteen? Or when you…”
I held up my hand. “Must you bring those up every time?”
Dad’s face turned into a grin.
“Meet me for lunch?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
Of course.
“Where and when?” I asked, never one to turn down a lunch. Especially not one with my father.
Luke hadn’t always been my dad.
At one point, some man that hadn’t paid much attention to me had been. Then Luke had come along, and my father had passed away.
Luke had treated me with kindness that he hadn’t had to show me, and over time, I’d learned to trust him as a daughter would a father.
When I was around eleven, I’d asked my mother why I didn’t have the same name as everybody else, and she’d been shocked that I would notice or care.
It wasn’t even a week later that adoption papers were filed by Luke—my dad. From then on, I was officially Luke’s daughter. Not that I needed his last name to have that proven to me. He’d been my dad since my mother and he had gotten together.
After getting a few more details for lunch straightened out, I got out of the car and waved.
Dad didn’t blow me a kiss like my mom would have, but he did wink at me, which was almost the same thing for my tough-as-nails father.
Grinning at his antics, I turned around and surveyed the large shop that my dad had taken my car to.
Free Custom Motorcycles and Mechanic Shop read on the sign out front.
It’d taken longer than I thought it should have to get my car fixed for only a small wheel, but when I walked into the open garage bay, I saw the reason why.
They were slam packed with cars.
When I’d asked my father why he’d brought it to Free, he’d explained that they were the best in town.
I mean, yeah, we’d always brought our vehicles here for everything.
But I’d never really understood why.
Until I walked in and saw all the shiny bikes, high end cars, and then there was my little Mazda.
“Can I help you?”
I blinked, startled to find myself under the scrutiny of a scarred man that looked a lot like the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Dax.
“I’m here to get my car,” I pointed at the red coupe next to the big blue lift thing that had a car about ten feet in the air. “That’s mine.”
The man turned to look at it, then nodded.
“Hey, Lenny!” he shouted.
A man appeared from the office with grease all over his hands and clothes, and a red rag in his hand.
“Yeah, Max?” Lenny asked.
“Can you get the ticket for Luke Roberts?”
Lenny gave a ’10-4’ from the office, and Max turned to survey me.
“You’ve grown up since I last saw you…” he hesitated.
“And lost some hair,” I finished for him.
Max grinned and pulled me into a tight hug.
He let me go a few seconds later, and I marveled at how big he was.
Just like his son.
“What happened to your hair?” he wondered.
I told him what happened, and when he started to scowl, I couldn’t help it anymore.
“You look exactly like your son right now,” I told him. “When I saw him at the police station that first day, he was scowling just like that.”
Max shrugged.
“Raised him to treat a girl right,” he admitted. “The thought of that happening to a woman should be abhorrent.”
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
Max was already shaking his head. “Not a thing.”
“But…” I started.
“Your dad already paid me in beer,” he told me.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“But…”
That was when a bright red truck pulled into the lot and parked right in front of the open bay doors that we were standing in.