Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I wasn’t so optimistic for the festivities at the club, though. I stared at my clothes spread out on the bed, my hands on my hips. I didn’t have much, I’d never really needed much, but now I was wondering if I should’ve bought something new to wear. The problem was I had no idea what someone wore to a party at a motorcycle club. It wasn’t as if I had a Harley tee lying around in my wardrobe. None of my shirts were name brand, if I was being honest.
Long ago, I’d seen the women that flocked to club parties in their mini skirts and booty shorts, but even if I’d had those—and I didn’t—I wouldn’t have worn them. For one thing, it was cold outside and I was still getting used to the Oregon temperatures again. For another, wearing a mini skirt while chasing a two year old sounded like a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. Plus, I was someone’s mother. I liked feeling sexy as much as the next girl, but my days of flaunting my ass around were mostly in the rear view.
I sat on the bed with a huff.
“Hey, my cousin Charlie stopped by,” Michael said, striding into the room without knocking. “She left a bunch of clothes—” His mouth snapped shut when he realized I was sitting there in my underwear.
“This is why we knock,” I murmured, my lips twitching as he stared.
The black garbage bag in his hand fell to the floor with a thump.
“Rhett’s ready,” he said, his face jerking to the side. “I thought you were, too.”
“It’s easier if I just get him ready first,” I explained. “Then I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Makes sense.” He nodded, his eyes still on the wall.
“Are you going to leave so I can get dressed?” I asked in amusement. At any other time I probably would’ve been embarrassed or self-conscious that I was sitting there in my raggedy bra and underwear, but he was clearly uncomfortable enough for the both of us.
“Yeah, I’ll just—” As he turned to leave, his boot caught on the side of the garbage bag and he stumbled. I couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came out of my mouth.
“Shut up,” he grumbled as he untangled himself and stomped out of the room.
As soon as he was gone I hopped up and grabbed the bag, upending it onto the bed. Michael’s mom had mentioned that Charlie was going to pass on some clothes that she didn’t wear anymore, but I had no idea she’d send so much. A piece of paper caught under a high neck black tank top caught my eye and I pulled it from the pile.
You can’t look like shit if you’re working at one of my carts – Charlie
I grinned as I dropped the paper back on the bed. I’d spoken to Charlie a few days before about working for her as a barista, but she hadn’t given me an answer until now. I didn’t blame her. I’d never made coffee before and I was pretty sure his family saw me as a flight risk.
As I sorted through the clothes, jeans and shorts, long sleeve tops, t-shirts, tank tops, and even a jacket—I realized that I wouldn’t need to buy anything new. She’d given me the clothes she didn’t wear and it was twice the amount that I currently owned. I hadn’t had this many clothes since before Rhett was born.
“We gotta leave,” Michael called through the door, knocking on it twice.
“I’ll be right there,” I called back, frantically looking over the clothes.
Eventually, I grabbed a pair of bootcut jeans and pulled them on. They were a little tight in the thighs and ass, but I could get them buttoned and zipped, so I figured they probably looked okay. I wished I had a full-length mirror as I paired the jeans with a black ribbed shirt. It was snug, too, but not tight. I was kind of amazed that the clothes fit so well. Charlie had always seemed so tiny.
“Mama,” Rhett said as he burst through the doorway, his coat already on. “Be late!”
“Can you really be late to a barbecue?” I asked curiously.
“You can if you’re bringin’ the hot dog shit,” Michael replied from the hallway. “Kids are gonna riot if we don’t get there on time.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, grabbing the olive green jacket from Charlie.
I put the coat on as we moved through the house, and a few minutes later we were in Michael’s truck and headed for the clubhouse.
The drive seemed shorter than I would’ve liked and as we parked in the gravel out front, I wiped my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans. I’d seen most of Michael’s family already, but I could already see that this group was a lot bigger. There were men and women outside, sitting on picnic benches and roaming around barbecues that were set out on the grass. Kids played in little groups around them.