Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“What do you mean?” Curly’s forehead scrunched.
“I said she was stupid for…” He shrugged.
Curly’s mouth opened and then snapped closed. His face went from interested to pissed so fast Ty would have missed the transition if he’d blinked. Lucky for him, he caught the whole shift. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.”
“Jesus, Ty.” Curly rubbed his temples. “Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?”
“I do.” He reached for the bottle again, only for Curly to smack his hand.
“Do you really?” If this were a cartoon, Curly’s face would be fire-engine red, and smoke would be billowing from his equally red ears. “Because that’s about the worst thing you can say to someone struggling to that extent.”
“I know that!” he shouted, gripping his hair. “You think I don’t know that?”
Curly stared at him across the bar. “I’m not sure right now. You are acting out of character.”
“I know it, okay. I didn’t even mean it. I just… I walked in the room, saw the bandages, and I-I don’t even know.”
“You had a big feeling?”
He rolled his eyes. “Really, cousin?”
“Really.” Curly nodded. “You felt something for that woman, and it freaked you the fuck out, so you decided to be a dick and make sure she didn’t develop ‘hero worship’ or whatever bullshit you were spouting a few minutes ago.”
“No.” He shook his head. That wasn’t it. For Christ’s sake, she was so goddamned much younger than him. He’d felt shock and sympathy, of course. He wasn’t made of stone, but nothing more. “I asked her why she did it, and she wouldn’t tell me shit. It pissed me off, so I snapped. That’s all. Nothing deeper.”
The smirk Curly wore said what he thought of that proclamation, but thankfully, he didn’t call Ty out on any more bullshit. Instead, he said, “I assume the ol’ ladies aren’t going to let her get away this time. What’s the plan? Will they have her stay in the shelter?”
He shrugged. “No idea. That’s up to them.”
“So you don’t care if they bring her here and she stays on club property?”
The thought of it made his skin prickly and hot. “Yeah, why would I have a problem with that? I told you I cared what happened to her. I want the ol’ ladies to help her out.”
“And if she becomes close to them and starts hanging out all the time, you’ll be good? Maybe, eventually, she’ll start dating and bring a date by for a party…”
Ty slapped his palms on the counter and speared his cousin with a death glare. “What the hell are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you’re cool.” He shrugged, posture all calm and chill, but that damn smirk remained.
Smug asshole.
Of course, his words had Tyler envisioning the very scenario he described—Kelsie with a man. Some random asshole smiling at her, making her laugh, touching her, and putting his mouth on her. He swallowed a growl.
“This is ridiculous,” he said, flipping off his cousin. “You’re trying to get under my skin, but you can’t. She’s a woman I helped rescue. That’s it.”
“Well, then, I guess it’s settled.”
“Yep,” he said, popping the ending sound.
“Great. I got some shit to do, so I’m gonna lock myself in the office for a bit. Will you be around?”
“Yeah, Jinx has the shop today. You need me to do something?”
“Nah, just curious.” He rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Later, cuz,” Curly said before turning and ambling toward his office.
Ty watched him leave, and though Curly kept quiet, his words echoed loudly through the quiet clubhouse.
Eventually, she starts dating…
Starts dating…
Dating…
“She can do whatever she wants. She can do whoever she wants. That woman is nothing to me,” he spoke toward the closed door of Curly’s office.
Seconds ticked by, and though he was alone, he swore he could hear his cousin laughing at him.
“Fuck this.” Ty grabbed the tequila and stomped back outside.
Curly could go straight to hell.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE BEAUTIFUL BEDROOM brought tears to Kelsie’s eyes.
When Brenna asked—ordered—her to stay at the women’s shelter, she and her colleagues had developed what greeted her today was nothing like she’d envisioned. Her mind had conjured an ample space with bunkbeds or multiple cots, little privacy, and minimal comfort. She only agreed because Brenna promised they weren’t officially operational yet, and she’d be the only guest—client.
Her snap judgment couldn’t have been further from accurate. The main areas of the shelter—living room, kitchen, recreation room, and quiet area—were in the process of being furnished and decorated, as were the other bedrooms. It appeared Brenna had worked her tail off to finish this room in the few days Kelsie spent recovering in the hospital.
She’d call the design modern, cozy comfort if she had to put a name to the style. A queen-sized bed rested against the center of the far wall. It had an inviting white comforter with fluffy white pillows and a fuzzy light teal blanket folded across the foot. A natural wood nightstand had been placed to the right of the bed, and a matching dresser sat along the right wall. The walls were painted a soothing gray that would easily match most accents. A large macramé wall hanging adorned the space above the headboard, but the rest of the walls were bare.