Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
When he was signing off and driving down the road, heading back toward our office, I stood.
Banger followed suit and turned to my brother.
“I’d like to meet your wife,” she said. “And your children. It was okay meeting you.”
Trouper glanced at me, then back at Banger, then back to me before saying, “I can’t say that I approve of this one.”
He approved.
He would never like having someone for me that he could walk all over.
“We’re going to talk about what she had to say, though,” he promised, then held out his hand to Banger.
Banger took Trouper’s hand and then dropped it before wiping her hand on her pants as if there was now something on there she wished to wash off.
Trouper shook his head in disbelief.
Hunt, who just relayed what he’d just witnessed to Hank, laughed loudly.
“You can’t have her, boys. She’s ours,” Hank called out to the majority of the room.
Trouper and the rest of his crew stayed behind, while Haggard and the rest of ours followed.
They stayed with us all the way through the delivery of Banger’s load and then continued to follow us until we pulled into my house.
They all waved goodbye, each of them roaring off toward their own homes and lives, and I realized that never once did they ask for something in return for them dropping everything and heading my way.
They’d all been at work.
The only one that hadn’t come, Rook, had phoned in twice between surgeries.
“They love you,” Banger said as she watched Bram disappear over the hill.
I hopped out of the truck and felt my entire body protest the move.
My ribs hurt like a bitch today, as did the knife wound.
I had six more days with the stitches before I could take them out, and after all that I’d seen and heard today regarding Sareen, I wanted to drink a beer or eight, lie down with Banger, and watch a movie.
CHAPTER 19
Coffee: because crack fucks you up.
-Coffee Cup
BANGER
Easton was down and dejected.
I recognized the signs, yet I’d never seen that specific look on his face before.
It was… weird.
Easton was always so positive and upbeat.
Yet to see him so bummed made my heart ache.
We’d had a lot of times at the bar together, talking about this or that, or anything really under the sun.
Nothing had been off limits other than my particular background.
At the time, I hadn’t realized that we’d gotten to know each other as well as we had.
So, reading the signs of fatigue on his face, I walked into the house and immediately headed to the kitchen to figure out something for dinner. I had to step over Ursula who was chilling out in the middle of the floor, right when you walked in the door.
Easton headed to his bedroom where, I assumed, he was taking a shower.
When he came down with wet hair and in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else half an hour later, I had my suspicions confirmed.
He had on black sweats this time, ones that hung low on his hips and showed off that spectacular set of hip bones he had, as well as that deep V.
I’d, of course, gotten onto Instagram before. I knew that guys like Easton existed with their hella hot bodies and their Vs, yet I’d never expected to land myself one.
“Do you work out really hard to get that?” I asked curiously, my eyes taking in the miracle that God had presented me with.
Jesus, those indentations were enough to make my mouth water, and I knew my shitty frozen chicken fingers and Kraft macaroni weren’t causing it.
No, that was all Easton.
Easton laughed, and it caused his ribs to tighten in response.
He groaned, causing me to reach for the six pills on the counter.
I handed them to him and said, “Four ibuprofen and two Tylenol.”
He swallowed them dry.
Then walked to the fridge for a beer before turning back to me and saying, “I work out. I don’t work out a lot, though. My dad gave me good genes, I guess. I’m a walking miracle with these abs who does barely any work to have them.”
The way he said it didn’t sound conceited at all, which was funny considering his words.
I shook my head in mock shame. “I work out by walking, sometimes running, and then following up exercise with large amounts of carbs that keep me looking like I’m semi-fit and semi-fat. Our children will probably take after me. The unlucky little things.”
He tilted his head curiously. “Children?”
I flushed. “It was a joke.”
Kind of.
I hadn’t named the kids in my head or anything, but I knew, if he gave me half a chance, I’d totally have his children.
He shrugged. “The thought of having children with you doesn’t bother me.”
I burst out laughing. “Good to know.”
He shrugged, then gestured to the pot of boiling water. “Your macaroni is boiling over.”