Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
It was all dark now, my eyes too heavy to remain open. I felt calloused fingers brush my cheek, my forehead. “Hush now. You go to sleep, city boy,” I heard in the distance. “I’ll stay out here with ya.”
I did exactly what the voice said and let go.
CHAPTER TEN
Brody
I stood at the stove, stirring sausage links in the skillet.
“I trust you.”
He trusted me? That wasn’t something I took lightly.
I was an O’Ralley. Trust was reserved for family. We might have our issues, but when the going got tough, we were always there for one another.
Even though his words had surprised me, I had to admit I trusted him too—enough that I was willing to disclose secrets of the O’Ralley empire in the name of helping Cohen.
The sound of someone coming downstairs pulled me out of my thoughts before a familiar voice filled the air, “Oh, Cozies, that smells amazing.”
Cozies?
I turned to Isaac, who was wearing a pair of black leggings. As soon as our gazes met, he squinted.
“Huh,” he mused. “I must have been tired to think Cohen actually got up early to make me breakfast in bed.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure what time your buddy will be getting up. He had a rough night.” I snickered, thinking of how tipsy he’d been before passing out. “I already put some coffee on. Making some sausage and then was going to fix some omelettes if you wanted one.”
“You’re going to poison just his omelette, right?” he teased.
“So…you’ll take your cyanide on the side?”
He laughed as he fetched a mug from a cabinet and made himself a cup of coffee. As he headed to the fridge, I warned him, “You’re running low on almond milk, if you’re planning on using it for creamer.”
“Only running low since Cohen doesn’t take good care of me like this. I’ve basically been living off Lucky Charms and Shredded Wheat since we got here.”
He put some milk in his coffee before heading to the kitchen table and plopping into a chair.
“So…O’Ralley, should I be concerned about your intentions?”
I stirred the links in the skillet. “My intentions?”
“Yes. You aren’t planning on just slipping over here and getting some fucks out of my buddy so that you can enact some fucked-up revenge over some early twentieth-century feud, are you?”
“What? No!” I spit out.
“That’s too bad. That could have been hot.” He winked at me, and I finally got that he was kidding.
The sound of footsteps preceded Cohen, who came around the corner. He’d thrown on some socks and a pair of pajama bottoms. He squinted in the morning light pushing through the window over the sink, and the way his face tensed up, I was waiting for him to hiss like a vampire.
“Morning, Cozies,” I made sure to say before Isaac.
“What are you doing sharing our friend-secrets with the enemy?” Cohen asked Isaac.
“He’s very persuasive. He’s making me an omelette.”
“Clever bastard,” Cohen said, his lips perking up despite his otherwise worn expression. “Did you stay the night?”
“Nah. You started to get a little restless on the couch, so I tucked you into bed before heading home. Got up early because I figured a certain someone might be hungover, and brought over painkillers.”
“Why didn’t you start with that? Where?”
I laughed, showing him a bag in the corner near the sink. He quickly downed some pills, and after I finished making breakfast, we sat down together. Cohen watched me eat.
“You didn’t have breakfast with your family? Isn’t that a big deal at your house?”
“Oh, I had it all right. And I’ll be eating all this. I recommend you do the same. We have a big day ahead of us.”
“Wait. Big day?”
“Yeah. I got the morning off so I could stick around and help out around this mess of a place you call a distillery.”
He groaned. “I’ve already been working so hard.” I could tell by his tone and the way he smiled that he was kidding.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing serious.”
“Well, just so both of you know, I’m taking the day off,” Isaac chimed in. “I’ll be catching up on Real Housewives of New York.”
Cohen and I smiled, finished our meal, and then Cohen headed upstairs to get ready for our day. When he stepped out of the bedroom, he was dressed in a red and blue striped flannel shirt and jeans adorned with a brown belt with a thick buckle. It reminded me of the photo I’d seen of his dad. Cohen had started wearing clothes like that after finding a box with some of Harris’s old clothes.
The way the sleeves gripped his arms, the top buttons undone down to his chest…it was enough to act as a cruel tease.
“Let’s get to work,” he said.
He couldn’t have been up for that, considering the night he had, but I kept on with that story. “Come on, cowboy,” I told him as we headed out the front door.