Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Except I’d gotten up this morning, grumpy as fuck, to see Fiona stumbling around the kitchen in some sheer robe, PJ pants, and a camisole that showed the shape and the pink of her nipples.
Fiona grunted to acknowledge me. She was not a morning person. She walked around with her eyes half open, muttering to herself and glaring at me if I tried to talk to her or get in her way.
It was, unfortunately, cute as hell.
And I couldn’t get a damn coffee because I didn’t trust myself to be in her small kitchen, that close to her and her pert nipples, without doing something really stupid. So, I’d started my day without caffeine today. Then, since I didn’t want to do the whole song and dance of being newlyweds at the bakery this morning, I’d gotten coffee from the gas station, which was dogshit in comparison.
The day only got worse from there. Clients changing their minds about fixtures after they were installed. Shipments being delayed. Invoices not being paid.
Usually, all this kind of shit was water off a duck’s back for me. Rowan was the guy who got all grumpy about it.
But fuck if I gave him a run for his money today. Plus, that fucker had been grinning from ear to ear since he found out his wife was pregnant.
By the time I made it back to Fiona’s house, I could only think of a cold beer and a plate of food.
Until I saw the car in the driveway parked beside Fiona’s.
My fucking mother’s car.
I seriously considered driving off. Hitting the nearest bar and not coming home for the night. The problem was I lived in a town where everyone knew me. Before, that didn’t matter much. I didn’t care if the old ladies at the bridge club knew I fucked half the single women in this town. Didn’t care who said what about my bar tab.
Except now I had to care.
Because they all knew I was married.
And to one of the town’s most beloved residents at that.
Fiona was easy to like, not just because of her accent, which was endearing—and sexy as fuck. She was fucking gorgeous too. Effortlessly so. With her clear blue eyes, tanned skin, blonde hair, and sinful fucking curves, every male in the area who liked tits and pussy took notice of her. But she also swore like a sailor and spoke her mind, standing up for herself and others without hesitation.
Plus, all of her weird little Australian idiosyncrasies and sayings.
Suffice it to say, she was liked.
I hadn’t realized what a responsibility that would be, making it look like I was taking care of her as she deserved, as a husband should . To be fair, I was thinking about a whole lot of other shit. The extent to which my day-to-day life would be changed didn’t hit until I went to the bakery for a coffee. I felt it. Everyone watching, waiting. To see how I spoke to her, how I treated her.
Then there was the talk that Frank had with me. Namely what he’d do with my ‘gonads’ if I hurt her.
There was no way I could drink the night away at the bar without the town gossip mill churning—and the town likely turning on me. Not great considering the situation, and the fact that Rowan and I owned a construction business that largely relied on the residents of this town.
Yeah, there were a bunch of factors why I couldn’t just turn and leave. Beyond the obvious that it was a douchebag thing to do.
Without all the other reasons, I would’ve left, douchebag or not.
I wasn’t a good man. I had made my peace with that. Being a good man did not protect you from the horrors of life. Being a good man did not stop your wife and daughter from dying. So, who gave a fuck?
“Motherfucker,” I muttered, slamming my palms on the steering wheel before I got out of the truck.
I braced myself as I walked in the front door. Memories of similar situations washed over me. Of coming home to my mother at our house without being announced. There was always tension in the air. There were looks from my Gabbie, strained, annoyed, and communicating that she’d have something to say to me later.
Of course, my mother was oblivious to the tension and the looks.
I could only imagine Fiona’s reaction to a mother-in-law she never wanted turning up on the doorstep of her house without notice and being the kind of woman my mother was.
Music was playing when I walked in the door. That was not out of the ordinary. Fiona was constantly playing music. She had a weird and eclectic taste. One day she’d be blasting Taylor Swift, Shinedown the next. She’d introduced me to a couple of bands that I enjoyed. Not that I’d ever tell her.