Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Okay, I just, uh…okay,” she stammered and turned to walk back toward the house.
Fuck. I clenched my teeth in hopes that I’d keep my mouth shut and let her walk away, but the moment her hand touched the screen door latch, I caved.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” The words came out rushed.
Needing no other encouragement, Salem spun around, and those eyes—which I swore to God were going to be the death of me—were glistening with unshed tears. A knot in my chest twisted, and I took a deep breath.
“Did I do something…” She trailed off and pulled that lip between her teeth again.
Yeah. You make my dick hard, and you’re too fucking young.
“No. Just having a bad day.”
Her expression softened into one of concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you wanted to come see your mom and not have to deal with this.” She scrunched her nose. “I didn’t ask her to do all this.”
I shrugged. “That’s just how Mom is.”
We stood there, staring at each other a tad too long as the silence began to stretch. I doubted anyone could ever get tired of looking at that face.
Jesus, talk about a fucking Lolita.
“I’ll go see if I can help Vanna inside,” she said, then gave me the sweetest smile.
For a second, I forgot why I had been pissed. Then my eyes dropped to her perky tits and the hard nipples poking against the fabric of her sorry excuse for a top, and I remembered. My hand tightened on the tongs I was still holding.
“Do you own a bra?” It almost sounded like a snarl.
Those incredible blue eyes widened, and she hesitated, then nodded. She looked nervous. But even that couldn’t stop me. I knew I couldn’t handle some dick checking out her tits.
“Put it on. I can see your nipples from here,” I told her, realizing I sounded possessive. Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, I added, “Out of respect for my mom. Whoever this kid is, he doesn’t need to be looking at your tits at the dinner table, and with you dressed like that, he won’t be able to look anywhere else.”
Her body stiffened, and she nodded. Then, without saying a word, she hurried inside. Either to get away from me, to cry because I was an asshole, or to change. I hoped like fuck it was the latter.
4
Salem
Present Day
A biker.
He was a biker.
The anniversary of my husband’s death, and I saw him for the first time in eighteen years.
And he was a biker.
With a girlfriend who had ginormous boobs, fake lashes, and too much makeup. Okay, fine, she was hot. If you liked the blatantly obvious sex-appeal thing. Why did I care?
Eighteen years, Salem. You are an adult. You’ve lived another life since you saw him last.
Dropping my gaze to my drink, I broke eye contact because he clearly wasn’t going to. I should leave. Pay my tab and go. The evening had just taken a turn I’d have never seen coming, and I wasn’t in need of a venture down memory lane.
The crowd applauded as the band finished a set and said they’d be back in twenty minutes. I looked up, purposefully not letting my eyes go anywhere near Rome Bower, and searched for a waitress instead. Any waitress, a busboy, someone. Maybe I could leave two hundred-dollar bills on the table and escape.
No. There was no way it would be that much, and I couldn’t throw money around like that. This trip had cost me more than I had budgeted for. The life insurance and small savings that Eamon had left behind, I’d put it into mutual funds, not wanting to touch it. The idea that I had been given money because my husband was dead bothered me. I just…I just felt guilty.
Like his mother had pointed out more than once in our marriage, we didn’t have any children. He’d had life insurance in case he left me behind with kids to raise. But there was none. Her biggest gripe she harped on about was that there was no son to pass on the family name. Not for a lack of trying though. I’d wanted a baby. I’d lost three, two with Eamon and one with…
I glanced over at him again, unable to stop myself. The brunette was perched on one of his thighs, and her arm was draped around his shoulders while she talked to the attractive woman tucked close to Mr. Drop-Dead Gorgeous. Rome lifted a bottle of beer to his lips and took a long pull. I could see his throat muscles working from here. His attention didn’t seem to be on anything as he stared straight ahead.
Was he thinking about the past? Or had he recognized me? I wasn’t nineteen anymore. I thought he’d recognized me, but maybe not. I mean, after eighteen years, shouldn’t we be able to greet each other? Acknowledge that we had once been…connected, two parts that made a whole, a family. God, I didn’t even know what to call what we had been.