Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“That would be perfect actually.”
“Good. Then head your fine silver fox ass over there and set it up before someone else snatches it off his hands.”
“Jazz, you’re a lifesaver, hon.”
“Don’t I know it,” she said with a big smile as she gave me a little wave before moving off.
I’d never really been attached to a town before. I’d moved around a lot as a kid and then a young adult. You kind of just saw each town as the same as the last.
There was just something about Navesink Bank, though. I couldn’t put my finger on it. And it wasn’t just because I’d stuck around it for a while. I’d lived in other towns for much longer than I’d been in Navesink Bank.
Maybe it had to do with the, well, thriving less than legal empires all cooped up in one space. It created a sense of community you didn’t often find in places anymore.
From there, you sprinkled in a few familiar mom-and-pop establishments like She’s Bean Around, Chaz’s, and Famiglia—the kinds of places where the owners and workers got to know your name and story—and it brought everything in even more tightly. In a comfortable way. Like an old favorite sweater.
If I lived out the rest of my life in Navesink Bank, I would be a happy man.
The old print shop was on a side street along with a salon and a pet store. It was a simple brick building with the typical picture window that was currently boarded up by wood and then doubly protected by the metal security door pulled down.
There was a sign duct-taped to the wood board that said the space was for rent, with a number to call.
From there, it was all pretty simple.
The guy who owned it said he was still cleaning it out, but that it would be ready in four or five days. So I dropped by his place, set down a deposit, then made my way toward one of the nicer hotels in the area, the one overlooking the Navesink River.
I don’t know. I guess I just figured that the woman could use some luxury that didn’t come with pain and abuse as well.
Once that was all handled, I made my way back to the clubhouse, stomach tied a bit in knots. Because I’d made all those plans without once consulting Abigail about any of it.
She’d had someone controlling every aspect of her life for so long. She didn’t need another man doing it for her. But, I reasoned with myself, this situation was different.
I had to get her safe.
And I also had my orders from Fallon.
If she wanted to change some of the plans once I got her out of the clubhouse, that was fine. We could figure it out together.
“You got something to fill me in on?” Brooks asked when I got back into the lot and climbed off my bike.
“How’d you know?”
“Because Dezi has been chatting up that girl who claims she knows you for the past hour.”
Jealousy and possessiveness assaulted my system all at once.
Why?
Because Dezi was talking to her? I mean, this was Dezi we were talking about. He talked to every woman. Literally every fucking woman. He didn’t have to be attracted to them. He struck up conversations with the old ladies at the grocery store just as much as he did with the pretty college girls at the bars.
It was all just part of what made Dezi… Dezi.
Still, though, there was no denying the swirling discomfort in my stomach, the tightness in my chest.
Over a woman I had no claim over.
She was a part of my past.
Though, admittedly, she was clearly a part of my present as well.
And as I filled in Brooks on what was going on, I had to admit to myself that there was some part of me that thought a future with the woman who’d saved me when I couldn’t save myself didn’t sound too shabby…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Abigail
“So, what are your feelings on mini-cows?” the guy who’d introduced himself to me as Dezi said as he dropped down in a chair across from where I was sitting on the couch.
From the looks of his outfit, he’d just gotten back from the gym like Cary had. But that didn’t stop this man from cracking open the pastry box on his lap and plowing right into a jelly donut.
“I, ah, I’m sorry?” I asked, confused.
“Mini-cows. Yay high,” he said, gesturing to the side of the chair. “Spotted. Big eyes. You like them?”
“I’ve, um, I’ve never really thought about it,” I admitted. My world hadn’t exactly involved cute farm animals.
“What about babydoll sheep?”
“I don’t think I even know what that is,” I admitted.
“Hm. Alright. Just working on a theory,” he said, shrugging. “Donut?” he asked, holding the box out to me. “Come on, you know you wanna.”