Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I stayed silent as I watched Kettle check his instrument, and then his bow. He ran his fingers over the strings, testing the long fibers of hair.
“Can I have ice cream now?” Johnny, Sebastian’s four-year-old son, asked from across the table.
All our eyes went to the plate in front of him, noticing for the first time it was empty of the carrots that Baylee had put on his plate when they’d started dinner.
He’d been complaining for nearly an hour now about ‘hating carrots’ because they were ‘rabbit food’ and he was a ‘human fucking being.’ When he’d asked for ice cream, Sebastian had flat out told him no, he sure as hell wasn’t getting any ‘fucking ice cream’ until he finished his ‘goddamned carrots.’
I’d winced right along with Baylee at the curse words coming out of Sebastian’s mouth knowing Johnny would turn around and repeat each and every word at a later date in time. Most likely when they were around other people that would be highly offended by a four year old cursing.
Sebastian leaned forward and looked at his plate. “Let me see your hands.”
Johnny lifted up his hands and showed his father they were empty.
Then Sebastian bent down to look under the table. Upon seeing no stray carrots, he nodded at his son. “I’ll go get you some ice cream. Thank you for eating the carrots.”
When Johnny smiled, I saw a small piece of orange in his mouth, but then music from the direction of my man started to fill the air, making me look up to see Kettle perched on the very edge of the bar stool. One foot on the ground, and the other on the lowest rung.
His eyes were closed, and he was letting the fine hair of the bow run lightly over the strings of the fiddle.
The other two were warming up as well, but my eyes were glued on Kettle. On the peaceful expression on his face. On the slight quirk of his head as he leaned his chin on the black pad of the instrument.
After about ten minutes of them fiddling around, adjusting things, and basically tuning their instruments to their liking, Mike started playing a few soft notes. Then Porter started picking at his guitar with his large, blunt fingers.
Then there was Kettle, who waited.
His foot tapped along with the music, and instantly, I knew what they were going to play.
“Callin’ Baton Rouge?” I asked Baylee. “Isn’t it against a motorcycle club’s religion to play anything but rock and roll?”
Baylee laughed.
“Wait for it,” she said, sparing me a small glance before she returned her gaze to the impromptu concert ahead of us.
Blaise stirred in my arms, making me miss the part where Kettle actually started to play, but once I looked up again, my eyes were laser focused on the sexy beast of a man rocking it out on his fiddle in front of me.
“There it is,” Baylee smiled as Kettle’s brilliance started pouring out through the music.
Kettle was dressed in dark faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and his cut. His hair was shaved back down so his Mohawk was once again perfectly a half inch long with the sides shaved cleanly down. Then there was the fiddle. It looked so tiny in his large hands.
Words could not explain what I felt as I watched Kettle play.
My arms and hands, as well as my legs, feet, head, and torso were moving with the beat.
What once started as a perfectly lined bow was now sporting broken pieces of hairs as Kettle fairly attacked his instrument in his exuberance.
His fingers were moving so freakin’ fast that it was hard to see, and by the time they were into the last beats of the song, my heart was pounding.
“Holy shit,” I breathed as I watched the boys finish their song.
The men around the clubhouse were all drinking and having a good time. There was family and fun, and I was so very happy.
The only thing missing was my sister, but as long as my sister was happy with her life, I was, too.
“Finished!” Johnny declared as he set his spoon down and then promptly spit out every single carrot that had been on his plate earlier in the meal back onto his plate and left the table.
I had to laugh when I realized that the boy had obviously had the load in his mouth the entire time, throughout eating the ice cream and all.
“I can’t say that I’m not impressed.” Sebastian said dryly.
“I cannot even fathom how he was able to do that...” Baylee said as she shook her head in awe.
Standing up and leaving them to their discussion, I made my way around the large table and sidled up to Kettle who was drinking a beer.
He had sweat beading on his forehead and running down his face, but he looked happy. His eyes had tracked my movement as soon as I’d stood, and watched as I made my way closer and closer to him.
“You did well, Tiago.” I said as I got to within hearing range.
“Yeah,” he said. “My parents paid for me to do well. I still love it anyway.”
“Got a little rough with your bow, there, didn’t you?” I teased.
He snorted. “You’re not putting enough emphasis into it if you don’t break a few hairs.”
“So are you guys taking requests?” I asked, eyes turning from Kettle, to Torren, and back to Kettle.
He looked at me skeptically.
“As long as it isn’t any of that shit I heard rolling through your car when I’m the one following you around, we’ll be good.” Porter glared at her.
I laughed.
“Hey, I resent-”
Kettle’s pager went off. Followed by about half the men in the room. Cell phones started ringing. Alarms started sounding. Then all the men receiving those calls were standing.
“Here, baby. Will you put this away for me? I’m getting a call out. Hang here with Baylee. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can, okay?” Kettle said as he handed me his fiddle and started running away without even a backwards glance.