Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Ruger sighed. “It’ll be easier to give in now.”
“Pussy,” I said, although the man never really had a chance. Nobody could stand up to the Hayes girls when they set their minds on something, and apparently their minds were set on going to the fair.
“Oh, and Painter?” Kit asked, and I swear to fuck she fluttered her eyelashes at me. “We’re bringing Melanie with us, so if you want to stay here that’d be just great. I’m sure she doesn’t want you around.”
That little bitch. Now I had to go.
I took a bite of my eggs, pretending to ignore her. She laughed, then skipped off across the courtyard, presumably looking for fresh victims.
“I’m real glad that girl moved to Vancouver,” Duck said, sighing. “I love her like my own, but damned if she doesn’t stir shit wherever she goes. I assume you’ll all be out at the fair tonight?”
I stared down at my food, pretending to be fascinated by the pattern of ketchup across the hash browns.
Duck laughed.
MELANIE
“Pleeeeese . . .” Kit whined, kneeling on the ground in front of me. She’d caught me and Jess out in the front yard—note to self: never go outside or even unlock the door again when the Hayes girls are in town—and dramatically demanded that we go to the rodeo with her, because “Those cowboys aren’t gonna pinch their own butts.”
While I’m sure this was true, I still wasn’t planning to go with her—I had a paper to work on, and I’d already made a fool out of myself the night before. Avoiding the Reapers was high on my list of priorities, yet here Kit was, on her knees in all her Bettie Page–inspired glory.
Parked behind her on the street were no less than five Devil’s Jacks riders led by Hunter, Em’s old man.
No pressure at all, right?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Taz climb off his bike and start walking toward me. Gaw. I felt my cheeks heating up as the memories of last night flooded me.
Alcohol. Alcohol was the enemy here. Alcohol and the Hayes family.
Taz came up next to me, draping his arm over my shoulder.
“You sure you ladies don’t want to come out with us?” he asked. “Fried food. Horseshit. What’s not to love?”
Jess glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow.
“Not a fan of the rodeo?” she asked. Taz laughed.
“Motorcycles don’t leave piles of crap everywhere they go. I think that sums up my feelings on the issue.”
Jess grinned, startling me because she wasn’t exactly a fan of bikers.
“I’m Jessica,” she said. Ruh-roh. That was her cute “I’m available” voice. So much for the celibate streak.
“You’re coming with us, right?” Kit asked hopefully, honing in on Jess. The girl could smell weakness.
“I think we could swing it, don’t you, Mel?” Jess asked innocently. I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Sure,” I replied my voice dry. “Can’t wait.”
Taz snorted, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
“Don’t get so excited,” he murmured in my ear. “You might strain something.”
“Okay, go grab your stuff,” Kit said, jumping up and beaming at us proudly. She was really taking this “new family” thing seriously now that they’d set a date for the wedding. After this weekend, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. December couldn’t come soon enough. “Everyone else is already out there.”
“All right,” Jess said brightly, grabbing my arm and jerking me away from Taz. “We’ll be five minutes, tops.”
• • •
“I thought you hated bikers,” I reminded her once we were back inside. “And five minutes isn’t very much time to get ready. Not to mention I have a paper due this week, you know.”
“You can pump out a paper like that in half an hour,” she said. “And you look great. Just throw on some lip gloss and grab your stuff. I’ve been rethinking my position on bikers . . .”
“Oh really? Since when?”
“Since I saw Taz—that guy is completely and totally fuckable. Now here’s what I need to know—is there anything between you and him? I know you came home with Painter, but Taz was all over you outside. Usually I’d say that meant something, but those guys are so damned touchy-feely that it’s hard to tell.”
“I hung out with him for a while last night,” I admitted. “But I’m not looking for anything more—my head’s messed up enough as it is, with Painter. I don’t need another biker running around in there, too. He’s all yours.”
“Perfect,” she said, licking her lips. “I’ve been a very good girl for a long time now. I think it’s time to put myself back on the market.”
Poor Taz.
The man was screwed. Literally. Somehow I had a feeling he wouldn’t mind too much.
Exactly four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, we were back outside. I wasn’t looking my best, but I didn’t look bad, either—cutoff shorts, cute tank top, and an old pair of cowboy boots my mom had left behind when she took off.