Total pages in book: 296
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
I look around, making sure none of my family is close, and it seems most of them have cleared out. They’re probably all stuffed in Zoey’s tiny little room or waiting in the hallway to go inside. “I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than try it. I don’t want to catch a disease. I have no idea where you or your traveling dick have been.”
“You can only deny me so much before you jump on board, Row.”
I scoff. “I’m not jumping on anything, especially you.”
“We’ll see,” he says confidently.
“Whatever. Shit in one hand and wish in the other. See what happens quicker.” I shake my head, knowing he’s trying to get under my skin. At times, I think he might really have a thing for me, but I’m convinced he flirts just to aggravate the piss out of my brother and me.
Instead of giving him any more attention, I unlock my phone and reply to Trace. We decide to play it by ear and plan something another time. A smile touches my lips, and Diesel tightens his fist as uneasiness drifts from him.
Knowing he’s jealous as hell only encourages me to keep chatting with Trace because poking the beast and watching him squirm is fun. If Diesel wants to play games, maybe I’ll appease him, but it doesn’t mean I’ll ever be crawling under the sheets with him. I don’t care about his cute, boyish grin or how great he smells; he’s off-limits. The last thing I need is my brother punching Diesel in the face, but I do smirk at the thought.
CHAPTER THREE
DIESEL
Two weeks have passed since Rowan moved back, and as much as I try, I can’t seem to get her off my mind. It’s nearly impossible, especially when she’s working at the Circle B Saloon nearly every night. Hanging out at that bar is one of my favorite pastimes, and knowing I’ll see her has me putting on cologne and taking showers twice a day. When I get off work, I just want to have a beer and relax, but now, I’m changing into nice clothes as if I’m going on a date. “Dress to impress” is one of my mama’s favorite sayings.
After work, I do exactly that, then sit at the bar for hours. I was actually kind of disappointed when I arrived and didn’t see Rowan there. Apparently, she had the night off, or at least that’s what Kenzie told me after giving me shit for asking. They all think it’s just an act, but I’m gonna prove to her and everyone else that it’s not.
I’ve had a thing for her since we were kids, but knowing she was Riley’s little sister has always deterred me. Thinking back on my past relationships, though, the reason I haven’t settled down is because they weren’t Rowan. The heart knows what it wants, and while Rowan’s favorite hobby is pushing me away, I’m confident that one day she’ll see what’s always been right in front of her.
Saturday’s her birthday, and I got her something she’d never guess. She probably doesn’t think I remembered, but I’ll never forget her special day.
I thought she’d be working tonight, but she’s spending time with her nephew, so I’ll have to give it to her some other time. With her name on my tongue and thoughts of her dancing in my head, I start taking shots. It doesn’t take long before I drink too much and have Grayson taking me home. He’s a good, responsible sidekick while Riley’s busy with his family.
“Want me to pick you up in the mornin’?” he asks, my vision slightly blurring.
“Yeah, don’t be late, though, because Alex will chew me up and spit me out.”
“Yep, will do, but remember all this when it comes time for a raise,” he tells me, grinning. “Need help gettin’ inside?”
“Imma big boy. I can handle it.” When I open the door to the truck and step out, I nearly lose my balance and laugh. Grayson waits for me to make it on the porch before he backs out of the driveway and leaves. It’s really dark out and idiot me forgot to turn on the porch light, so I end up tripping over the mat in front of the door. I catch myself before falling and lean against the wood for a second, noticing my mail haphazardly sticking out of the box. I reach over and grab it, then walk inside and plop on the couch.
Most of it is nothing but stupid fliers and junk, but one envelope grabs my attention. The handwriting is neat and is addressed to my nickname instead of my formal name.
I open it and pull out a single sheet of paper. The curly handwriting matches the front.
Diesel,
My sister, Chelsea, didn’t want me to contact you, but I feel it’s your right to know that she gave birth to a little boy named Dawson, and I believe he’s yours. She could really use your help right now. If you could, please call me.