Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Officer Cuntingham.”
Not rising to the bait, he steps on the running board to bring himself into my window so I can smell the onions he had at lunch.
“Calvin fucking Hutton.” He makes a chiding clucking sound with his tongue. “You ran a stop sign and were speeding. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“To see Tyler,” I taunt, running my tongue over my lower lip in a suggestive way. “We go way back.” I wink at him for good measure.
His face turns purple immediately. It’s good to know his gay son is still a thorn in his side. I’ve got nothing against gays—because Roan’s as gay as they come and I love him to death—but Officer Douchebag doesn’t know that. Tyler hit on me plenty of times, none of which I played back, so it’s not totally unheard of or farfetched.
“I ought to haul your smart ass in,” he growls.
“You could,” I throw back at him. “I’m sure Dad misses your ugly mug.”
His lip curls up. My dad’s good to those he loves, but to everyone else, he’s a big fucking nightmare of an asshole. Six and a half feet of pure dickhead material.
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’d rather fuck you—”
“You’d rather fuck me?”
“With a big ass ticket,” he finishes on a growl.
“Oh,” I mutter, feigning disappointment. “And here I thought you were a dirty cop.”
He jumps off the running board, cursing before storming back to his cruiser. I text Roan while I wait for Officer Cuntface to write me a ticket.
Me: Tell your husband to tell his boyfriend to tell his dad to get off my nuts.
Roan: Fuck you. Tyler is not Hollis’s boyfriend.
Me: It’d be super convenient if he was though. Cuntingham pulled me over.
Roan: Do I need to bail you out?
Me: He’d rather metaphorically fuck me with a ticket. I think he secretly wants to suck my dick but I told him that was more your gig.
Roan: You’re such an asshole.
Before I can reply with some witty comeback, Officer Onion Breath is back. He tosses the crinkled ticket into my vehicle. Doesn’t ask for license or registration. Probably has that shit saved on his phone from all the other times he’s pulled me over.
“You fly through here again and I’ll bust your ass. I don’t care what your dad threatens,” he warns, his jaw clenching.
“I’ll be a perfect angel,” I deadpan.
He stalks away, not bothering to respond. I wait until he’s peeling away before I put the truck in drive. It’s tempting not to catch up to him and pass him just to be a dick, but I refrain. I’m not in the mood to get hauled in and then listen to Dad’s lecture later.
Within fifteen minutes, after a quick stop to grab milk, I arrive at Roan’s, parking next to Hollis’s purple Mustang that he’s had since high school. Hollis and Sebban are crouched beneath the stairs looking at something. I shut the truck door and walk over to them.
“If you’re playing hide and seek, I can see you,” I tell Hollis.
He discreetly flips me off. “We’re looking for worms.”
“Why?”
“Worm!” Sebban screeches, crawling forward. He picks up a worm, squeezing it until he severs the damn thing.
“Gross. Remind me never to have kids.”
Hollis laughs. “We were supposed to catch one to look at, not kill it.”
“Worm’s dead,” Sebban says, making a face that reminds me of his mother when I’d say something particularly offensive back in the day. Makes me feel like shit, too.
I ruffle his dark hair. “Yeah, worms die sometimes, kid.” Like moms.
“Hollis,” Roan calls out from upstairs. “The oven timer’s going off.”
Hollis scoops up Sebban. “Let’s go eat, buddy.”
As we walk up the stairs, Hollis glances over his shoulder at me. He has this intense way of looking inside you and seeing shit. Probably how he broke down Roan’s walls and got inside.
“You okay?”
Nah, your sister nearly killed T. Not fucking okay, man.
“Yep,” I lie.
His lips press into a frown. It’s not like I’m going to make waves with Hollis. He wasn’t the one who got behind the wheel. “How is he? Any change?”
“Nope.”
We walk inside and are met with a mouthwatering garlicky aroma. I’d gone straight up to the hospital this morning—like every morning—and only had coffee, a bag of chips from the vending machine, and a peppermint Rhetta fished out of the bottom of her purse. I’m fucking starving.
Hollis takes Sebban into the kitchen so they can wash their hands. Roan pulls the garlic bread out of the oven, his back to me. For a moment, I watch the three of them. Already so domestic. Like they were born for this life. It makes me realize how different Terrence and I are from Roan and Jordy. Once again. Roan’s got his shit together being married and fighting fires and being a damn daddy. Jordy’s playing catch-up like it’s his job.