Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“As if you would’ve tried hard,” Ravage says.
Everyone actually laughs at that.
“Facts,” Murphy mutters.
“Food?” Rock prompts, trying to redirect the conversation.
“A suggestion.” I lift one finger in the air to get everyone’s attention. “You guys don’t need to be hyped up on sugar. Maybe—”
“Pleeeease don’t give Brother Buzzkill another reason to lecture us on the evils of processed sugar,” Sparky moans.
“Why you gotta suck the joy out of everything, Wrath?” Stash asks.
I flick my gaze to the ceiling. These assholes never want to benefit from my wisdom. That’s fine. I may be older than the stoner twins but I could still run circles around Sparky while dragging Stash behind me like a trophy buck I shot on opening day of deer season.
“Swan helped us hire someone,” Rav says. “To cater.”
“Jesus, doesn’t that poor girl have enough to do?” Dex asks.
“That’s why she helped me find someone to hire,” Stash says in his best “duh” tone.
“Sounds like we’re all good, then.” Rock slaps his palm against the table.
“I don’t know, Prez.” I cast a serious look Rock’s way. “This could either be a great time or one hell of a clusterfuck.”
CHAPTER TWO
Shelby
One week until Halloween…
“Why is there a skeleton riding a flamingo like he’s a rodeo champion in my front yard?” I pop my hands on my hips and stare Jiggy down, waiting for my answer. This can only be his doing.
Of course, Jigsaw isn’t fussed by my interrogation. Nope. Not one bit. He grins at me from my front porch. “What’s wrong, songbird? I thought it was an adorable representation of both of your personalities.” He rubs his hands in the air like he’s molding Lord knows what out of clay.
Behind me, Logan groans and curls his arm around my shoulders.
I flick my gaze toward the tower of bones straddling what seems to be a giant flamingo pool float wearing a witch’s hat. “Wait a dang second.” I screw my face into a scowl as I try to swallow my laughter. “You tryin’ to say that’s Rooster ridin’ me?”
Jigsaw blinks and sputters. “Your man sanctioned it.” He jumps off the porch, landing on the grass with a dull thud, and points an accusatory finger Logan’s way. “Back me up, brother.”
“You said some Halloween decorations,” Logan counters. “Not this skeleton humping a flamingo monstrosity.”
Jigsaw giggles at humping. “That’s what it looks like, huh?” He squints at the decorations. “I see it now.”
“Jesus,” Logan grumbles.
I sigh and glance at the decorations again. It’s tacky as all get-out but kind of funny, too. It’s not like we got lotsa neighbors who’ll give a damn anyway. “It’s pretty dang clever, Jiggy. And certainly unique.”
Jiggy’s mouth curls into a smug grin.
“Don’t encourage him,” Logan protests.
“Songbird-approved.” Jiggy slaps Logan’s shoulder and jogs into the yard. “Wait until you see the rest of it!”
I peer up at Logan. “There’s more?” I whisper.
“I told you not to encourage him.”
I give Logan a closer inspection. Blue and gray plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to provide an enticing view of his forearms. Dang, my man wears plaid well. I never get tired of looking at him.
“You’re looking mighty fine there, Logan.” Pressing one hand against his chest, I lean up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Bristly beard tickles my lips and I kiss him again. “I think my favorite thing about moving to New York is seeing you in all those flannels you like to wear in the fall.”
He grins and slides his arms around my waist, lifting me higher to plant a longer kiss on my lips. “You’re now my favorite thing about New York.”
“Cock-a-doodle-dooooo!” Jigsaw shouts from outside.
“That’s like his mating call for you, isn’t it?” I tease.
Logan growls a few curses and sets me down. “Only mating going on around here is you and me.”
I wave my hand at him. “You know what I mean.”
“Let me go see what he wants. Otherwise, he’ll keep on yodeling out there.”
I busy myself putting away the few things I picked up at the store. All the different kinds of seltzer available has been another bonus about moving to New York.
Outside, the loud drone of the mail truck zips up, slows, takes off. A few seconds later, the front door bangs open.
“Mail call!” Logan announces. He swaggers in, grinnin’ like the cocky critter he got his road name from. In his hands, he’s carrying a short stack of envelopes and a small brown box.
“Anythin’ good?” I ask.
“Hell yeah.” He sets the envelopes—probably bills—on the counter and holds out the box. “I’ve been waiting for this one. Your Halloween present a few days early.”
“It’s for me?” Dang it. He got me a Halloween present? Why didn’t I think of anything better than a naughty fairy costume for his personal enjoyment?
“Actually, hold on.” He pulls a knife out of his pocket and neatly slices through the seal on the box, then hands it to me.