Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 145606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Thankfully, we escaped unscathed and spent the rest of the day driving around the countryside, even Cade’s usual hard exterior cracked taking in the beauty of home. I could tell he liked ‘Malcolm’s Peak’ considering he stood taking in the view of our little valley silently for a good five minutes before jumping me and making love to me on the bonnet of my dad’s truck. It was amazing. Apart from the fact I was slightly worried my fat pregnant ass would make a huge dint that would be hard to explain.
After those activities, I figured Cade would be thirsty, so I took him to our local pub. On arrival we were swamped down with greetings, hugs (for me), and firm handshakes and back slaps (for Cade). The reception was slightly different from that of the café, as the patrons here tended to be old, gruff farmers and laborers who didn’t drool all over my drool worthy man and hand out condolences. Instead they gave Cade wary looks, glancing at his attire and tattoos with speculation, and more than a little protectiveness. A lot of these men knew and respected not only my father but also my…Ian. Which meant they took it upon themselves to be secondary protectors of my honor. Sweet, but also annoying. Especially when you’re fifteen and hanging out at the only twenty-four hour fast food joint at three in the morning, more than a little tipsy, and one of the men happen upon you then take it upon themselves to drag you home.
But when I was twenty-five, knocked up and devastated from loss, I found it comforting. I was worried for a split second they would take him outside and try and rough him up a little, considering they all knew he had been MIA for two months, no matter it was not his fault. But thankfully they didn’t. Another thing that I was thankful for was the fact they didn’t treat me like some victim of loss that needed to be handled like glass. They shot the shit, some giving Cade withering looks, most giving him shit (that he took remarkably well), and then they raised a glass, “To the best brother, son, and rugby forward we knew.” I choked up a bit on that one, but raised my lemonade and bit back the tears.
“Anyone else going to approach the table trying to kill me with a scowl then try and crush my bones with a handshake?” Cade asked evenly.
“Oh probably, it’s not even happy hour yet,” I told him sweetly.
He smirked, rubbing his hand on my thigh. “I like this for you baby. That you got so many people who obviously care about you, respect you, got your back. It’s special, this whole damn place is spectacular.”
I scrutinized the pub with fake interest, taking in the dated stools and tables, the slightly stained carpet and the faded yellow paint.
“Well, spectacular isn’t the word I’d use for this particular establishment, I’m glad you like it all the same.”
Cade grinned outright and what a sight to behold that was. “Fuck I’ve missed your smart mouth.” His hand moved from my thigh to brush my belly lightly.
“This town, this country. It’s freaking amazing, babe. I see how you love it so much.” He regarded me like there was something else moving in his mind.
I didn’t have time to ask him what because hurricane Amy strolled through the door. I swear conversation stopped and every head turned to look at my best friend. Granted, in a small-town pub in New Zealand, strangers stuck out like a sore thumb. But this was something else, a drop dead gorgeous girl like Amy strolling into this place was like a fish jumping out of water and walking around on two legs. It also didn’t help she was dressed like she was about to head off to a five star dinner, not indulge in some hearty, honest, pub food.
Her long red hair tumbled over her shoulders, a mass of curls. She had on a grey, long sleeved knit dress that went down to her ankles and had huge slits up both sides, it was skintight, not leaving much to the imagination. She wore modest (for her) heeled ankle boots and a camel colored draped leather jacket. Definitely not the jeans and thermals most other women in here were wearing. Well, except for me. I was wearing leather leggings, a cashmere charcoal sweater, and knee-high boots. Everyone around here had accepted my inability to wear the local uniform years ago, but they hadn’t seen the likes of Amy. She was joined by my parents, who spotted us and waved. My father went off to the bar no doubt to get drinks, but was deep in back slaps and man hugs before getting anywhere near. Mum spotted a couple of friends and waved Amy on.
“Sup skank, biker dude, Supe.” Amy patted my tummy, sitting herself beside me.
“Hey whore,” I replied, Cade did a chin lift, grinning.
“This your local watering hole before you started sipping cosmos in the land of velvet ropes?” Amy asked, taking in our surroundings, winking at some of the men still staring.
I snorted. “You could say that, though I could count the times I’ve gotten drunk here on one hand. I was usually out looking for trouble, not staying in the one place I couldn’t find it. Not with all these guys around anyway,” I smirked. “Although, there was one night I did beat them all in a skulling competition.” I spoke a little louder, just so my neighbors could hear.
“You hustled us girl, which means you didn’t win anything, you forfeit on account of deceit,” Bluey, one of the losers of that night exclaimed passionately.
“We agreed we do not speak of that night,” Louie scowled at me before turning to contemplate his beer.
“I’ll take you on right now, rematch little girl.” Seventy-five year old Elliot declared, standing from his stool raising his beer.
I pointed down to my stomach, “Not really in the position to chug beers on account of the little human growing inside me.”