Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 133886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“We’re thinking the same thing,” she teased, coming to sit beside him on the bed. Her hands were tucked between her thighs as she crossed one leg over the other to get comfortable. Which was the exact opposite of his intent for them to leave and go find food. “I’ve been worried about you. You’re off. More than just the hangover.”
How could he tell her what was going on with him? He couldn’t. Ducky had been walking around on eggshells, trying to keep out of his way. He didn’t like himself this way either.
The past was in the past. The misery of learning unconditional love was a hoax, that his parents’ love did have conditions, was all supposed to be buried away long ago. He and his family were all in a really great place now.
Except they would not hesitate to cut him loose without a backward glance if they ever found out about last night. There was no way Donny would be able to stomach working with Dallas either. BikeBro would be ruined.
Dallas would never turn his back on his family. But he knew they would turn on him in a second.
Skye elbowed him in the ribs. She changed her tone, probably because he hadn’t answered. “It’s chilly outside. You’re gonna need more than shorts and a T-shirt.”
“How cold is it?” Right. Life was happening around him. He had forgotten a cold front had blown through last night. He’d forgotten. Dallas let go of a deep breath and turned to look at Skye. Whatever she saw had her wrapping an arm around him, leaning her head on his forearm.
“It’s gonna be all right. BikeBro’s going to work, I know it is. And if that’s not what’s bothering you, then that’ll work out too. You’re a force of good in this world. You’ll figure out what’s right for you.”
He suspected she spoke about Greer, and she had the same magic healing balm about her as Mrs. Haven. He lifted a hand, playfully patting her on the face with his palm in the same manner as she patted his thigh, annoying her as she swatted his hand away. “Were you the one who gave him my number?”
The guilty verdict came by way of those big brown eyes lifting to his as she sucked a lip between her teeth. They stared at one another for a few long seconds. “I didn’t know if I should or not. Greer’s a real good guy once you get past his self-image of being a baller, player. He’s not really either of those things. Not really. He could be a good mouthpiece for the company. Did I do the wrong thing?”
“I don’t know. Is he gay?” he asked, wanting her to say no, but hoping she’d say yes. His head was fucked up.
“He’s incredibly open and proud about not allowing labels. He’s super successful at whatever he does. I told him you’re straight. You are straight, right?” Her direct stare held no animosity or judgment, and Dallas nodded with resounding yes. “If you’re not, it’s okay…”
“No, I’m straight.”
She nodded, maybe not with complete certainty, but they both seemed willing enough to let it go. “Did he hit on you, because I seriously believe he’s harmless. But he runs in some big circles. You should see his car. Maybe he might know someone to help fund BikeBro.”
Dallas untangled her hold and rose to his feet, looking for his jacket. Everything Skye said was spot-on great, he just didn’t want to be the one to deal with Greer. “I can’t wait to give out your number without asking.” He smirked her way.
“You better not give my number out. I’m a chick. You’re a bulky, giant man.” She waved her hand at him as if to point out the obvious.
Dallas just cocked his head in such a way to say, we’ll see. Her face morphed into concern as she bounded off the bed, coming toward him in fight mode. With a move he’d done many times over the years, Dallas put his fingers to her lips, squeezing them shut.
“Of course, I’m not giving out your number. Go warm up the car.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him for several long seconds, probably trying to judge his sincerity.
“Heavy coat or jacket?” He let go of her lips, laughing at her irritation.
“Probably heavy. It’s almost fifty degrees, but sunny.” She left him there as if everything had been settled between them. She’d helped, and he had to get over himself. Nothing had changed. He grabbed his jacket and started through the apartment.
“Dallas, Dylan just asked if we could meet in the morning. He gave us an address other than the Secret office. He wants us there at eight. Do I accept?” Ducky asked.
“Whatever time is fine. Text Donny.” He didn’t stop his forward momentum of heading out of the house. He was starving. He hadn’t had much to eat since his big night out. Absently, he looked back over his shoulder as he reached for the doorknob. “I’ll bring you back something to eat.”