Husband Trouble (Bad For Me #5) Read Online Lindsey Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: Bad For Me Series by Lindsey Hart
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
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“Oh, dear. We seriously need to up your game then.”

He throws open the limo door before I can think of any creative scenarios. I guess I’ll have to save it for another day, but that would imply I’ll be around for another day, and I’m not so sure I will. The offer his granny made me is great, but I just don’t know if it’s the right one for me.

“One, two, three, let’s go!” he yells.

We hurtle from the limo, he slams the door, I kick off my one remaining heel, and then we run down the sidewalk, heading around the other side of the building and sprinting for the front gates.

I’m pretty sure there is nothing chasing us, but I don’t look back to double-check.

I also can’t remember when was the last time I had this much fun.

CHAPTER 5

Orion

After the raccoon and limo incident, which we narrowly escaped before, thankfully, finding the front gates of the biker club compound unlocked after our mad dash, Granny suggested to Echo that if she wanted to save some money before she made a decision—the whole take your time thing was implied—she could stay in the treehouse in the backyard of the house we’re currently renting.

We have the house for another few weeks. It’s a house for in-between missions, the wedding, and also while we figure out where we want to end up. Granny isn’t big on spending a lot of time in one place, especially not without a cover. This is kind of a one-off, special occasion type deal.

I knew nothing about the treehouse until right now. I’m standing in the kitchen cooking the bacon—as bleary-eyed as everyone else after our late night last night—because I trust myself more than I trust Granny not to burn it. Burned bacon is a major no-no. I think it’s a major no-no across the country, the entire Earth, and maybe even out into other galaxies. I can just imagine what alien talk is for “If you burn the bacon, I’ll end you.”

Anyway, a few minutes ago, I noticed Echo walk into the backyard, lugging a big suitcase across the grass, which was made more difficult by the fact that it was obviously heavy and the wheels didn’t work on the grass.

I drop the flipper immediately because I want to help, but Granny is suddenly beside me, shaking her head. “Hotel fees are expensive. I asked if she wanted to stay in the treehouse until she made her decision.”

“The treehouse? There could be raccoons out there!” I exclaimed.

“There aren’t any raccoons in the backyard,” Granny scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

Granny takes the flipper from me and prods the bacon while it sizzles and hisses. The noise kind of reminds me of the raccoons leaping out of the dumpsters right after they hissed their battle cry at us. I turn away from the pan and stare out the kitchen window. “That’s still a bit crazy.”

“The treehouse is well constructed. It’s like a second home. Plus, it’s warm out there. Seriously warm. There’s probably a lock on the door too. If not, I can buy one and install it. Or ten.”

I cross my arms, trying to come up with one single reason why the treehouse isn’t a good idea, but I have nothing. I mean, I do, but I know Granny will have an argument for everything, so I’m forced to swallow back my protests and admit silent defeat.

“I could still help her with her suitcase.”

“She’s alright. I don’t think she’d welcome the help.”

I glance back at the stove, but Granny is now regular-Granny and not distracted-Granny this morning, and she has things under control. “The treehouse is like a hundred square feet. How is she supposed to stay in there? We have empty rooms in the house!”

“You think she would have taken one, do you?”

“I—yes, maybe.”

Granny tsks under her breath. “You have a lot to learn about women. Some would take us up on the offer of a comfortable bed, and some like their own space.”

“But if she’s even thinking about joining the family, won’t she have to live with us sometime?”

“She likes her freedom. She likes her independence.”

“Then why did she get fake married to me a year ago?”

Major eye-rolling is happening right now. “It was real married, and you both were in a state where you both couldn’t make good, rational decisions, then she spent a year tracking you down to undo it. She wouldn’t be giving up herself if she joined the family. She’d be gaining a new identity and life, and no matter how independent one is, one always needs someone to have their back. I think it’s been a good long while since she had anyone do that for her. Old habits die hard, and she’s used to going at it alone and having to be the only one she depends on. It’s a big change. It’s best to give her space.”


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