Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Some girls saw Zepp in all his brooding, shithead glory, and they wanted to either be used by him or save him. He might have been hot, but I would never degrade myself with that asshole. And I didn’t give a damn about saving him. My biggest error was allowing him to see just how much I didn’t want to be seen with him because now he was going to make my life hell. My resistance was so pointless it was almost laughable.
By the time I pulled up to Max Harford’s iron gates, I’d had enough time to stew over everything, and my chest was tight. I slammed the door to my heap of a Pinto and stormed up to the white brick house. Before I had even rung the bell, Max opened the door, flashing a wide smile that screamed all-American good boy.
“You’re early.”
“Yeah, that okay?” I stepped inside the marble foyer and, as always, felt like dirt that the maid would want to sweep up.
“Of course. Only an idiot would mind a little more time with you.” His gaze dropped to my legs for a fleeting moment. “You look nice today. Like the skirt.”
I tried not to scowl. Compliments were not welcome, but I had to remind myself that with him, there was no back-handed dig. Even though Max was Barrington’s golden-boy quarterback and should have been the biggest of all dicks, he was actually okay.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I followed him through to the massive kitchen, all sparkling and white. He disappeared behind the door of his stainless-steel refrigerator, then popped back with a can of Grapico. I eyed the purple can when he handed it to me.
“I know it’s your favorite.” He shrugged a shoulder on his way into the sitting room.
I couldn’t remember telling him that Grapico was my favorite. “That’s nice of you.” I tapped a finger over the ring pull, fidgeting as I followed him over to the couch.
“Just a quick stop at the store. It’s fine.” He patted the spot beside him. “My dad’s working late tonight.”
“Okay.” I put my books on the coffee table, then checked my watch, barely paying attention to anything else. I had three hours before I had to be at Zepp’s, and that thought had a nervous churning settling in my gut.
* * *
The engine to my piece of shit car sputtered when I pulled up outside the Hunt house. Anxious energy crept through my veins on my way up the overgrown sidewalk and onto the rotting porch. I debated leaving a few times before I finally knocked on the door. Voices shouted inside. Heavy footfalls came toward the entrance, and a series of locks clicked before the door swung open to Hendrix. He took one look at me, and that was enough to have disgust crawling over my skin. He was almost as good looking as his brother, but he was even more of a whore than Zepp.
“Who you gonna bang first, Red?” He bit his lip on a grin. “Me or my brother? You want us at the same time, that’s extra.”
“Gross. I’m here for Zepp.”
“Final answer?” He opened the door wider, then stepped to the side. “’Cause, my dick’s bigger.”
“Congratulations.” I shouldered past him, cutting through the entranceway while he laughed. I headed toward the kitchen, and seconds later, the pop of fake gunfire came from the living room.
Zepp sat at a small breakfast table; his brows pulled together while he studied the screen of the laptop in front of him. His hand rested on the worn tabletop, tattooed fingers clenched in a fist. He always looked so angry. And dangerous.
I stood in the doorway and cleared my throat.
His response: Sliding his phone across the tabletop. “Order me some pizza.”
I wanted to strangle him, but instead, I mumbled “dick” under my breath before dialing the number to Pizza Barn and placing an order for two pepperoni pizzas. When the delivery guy asked for the address, I looked at Zepp. “You know the shit hole house at the end of Victory Lane? There.” Then I hung up and chucked Zepp’s phone back at him.
“Will that be all?” I asked, acid dripping from my voice.
He didn’t even look up from his laptop, let alone respond. He was such an asshole.
“Fine.” I headed for the hall. I hated being Zepp’s bitch, but trying to get out of it had backfired. So this was what I had to deal with—beer runs and pizza orders.
“I didn’t tell you, you could leave, Monroe.”
I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the peeling wallpaper before I turned to face him. “Really, Zepp? Can we just not?”
The condescending glare he directed at me had my temper spiking. He was such an arrogant prick with his stupid nose ring and muscles. “Screw you and your small-dick power trip.”