Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I heard it’s not as good as season one,” I say, dabbing the napkin over my lips.
“Awww,” she grins, “don’t tell me you’re scared of little ol’ Chucky?”
“Nah, he reminds me of you when you were little,” I tease.
Her mouth drops in outrage, but she’s laughing too hard to protest. “Come on. Stop stalling.”
I finish my dinner. Then, the two of us make popcorn with lots of salty butter.
In the living room we nestle into our respective corners of our couch, letting our feet touch in the middle. Libby grabs an afghan our aunt Kimmy made for us and throws it at me. “Here, in case you get scared and need to hide,” she teases.
I toss it back, laughing when it falls perfectly over her head. “Nah, you need it more than I do.”
She bats it away. “Nope. The Walker sisters don’t scare easily.”
“That’s right.”
A knife-wielding doll doesn’t scare us one bit.
We’ve survived enough real-life horrors.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dex
Although Vapor said Juliet wanted me to come over for dinner, my niece doesn’t look pleased to see me when she first opens the front door to their modest brick ranch.
“Uncle Dex, it’s been a while,” she says, opening the door wider to allow me inside.
Vapor must’ve told her I was taking him on an assignment tonight. She’s never been part of my MC life and the few brushes she’s had with the MC didn’t exactly endear the world to her.
The couple of times her husband’s been inside, I made damn sure my club took care of him—lawyers, bail, whatever was needed. Even if he isn’t a patched brother, we take care of our own and anyone who gets in trouble conducting business on our behalf. Juliet prefers to have her husband stay out of trouble—period. The two of them are hyper-protective of one another. I’d rather keep them closer to the club, so I know they’re safe. But I also know when not to push. Juliet’s stubborn.
I lean down and kiss her cheek. “How’ve you been, peanut?”
A bit of the frost in her expression melts. “Good. Busy.” Her lips flicker into a teasing smile. “Roman says there’s a special lady in your life.”
“Special lady?” I raise an eyebrow. “What are you two, sixty-year-olds?”
“Stop it. You know what I mean. When can I meet her?”
I can easily picture Juliet and Emily getting along. “Give it a minute, Juliet.”
“Hmm.” She nods. “Secretive. Must be something real.”
I’ve never introduced her to anyone I’ve “dated” before, so I’m not sure what she thinks she’s confirmed. Technically, Juliet and I aren’t related. My wife was Juliet’s older cousin. I’ve tried to maintain a relationship—look out for Juliet—since my wife died. With varying degrees of success or failure, depending on how you look at it. I have a lot of regrets about not being there when she needed me. Introducing her to a woman I’m seeing feels weird and disloyal, no matter how many times Juliet’s said she wishes I’d find someone.
“Where’s your husband?” I ask, ending the conversation about my love life.
“Right here, Mr. Taskmaster. Settle down.” Vapor enters from the hallway, carrying their son.
“Jesus, what’re you feeding this kid? He’s huge.” I grin as Vapor sets Atlas down and he wobble-walks his way over to me.
“Welllll,” Juliet says, drawing out the word in her sweet but sarcastic way, “you haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Nah,” Vapor says. “I swear sometimes he’s bigger when I get home from work than he was when I left in the morning.” He slips his arm around Juliet’s shoulders and pops a kiss on her forehead.
I crouch down and Atlas runs right into my arms for a hug and lets me pick him up. “Can’t be that long. He remembers me.”
Juliet reaches up to fix the collar of Atlas’s T-shirt. “You might be right. He doesn’t let just anyone hold him.”
As if to agree with his mother, Atlas curls his fist in the ends of my hair and yanks. “Strong grip, little buddy. We’ll have you riding in no time.”
“The hell you will,” Juliet mutters.
I lift an eyebrow and she flashes an innocent smile. Hanging onto Atlas with one arm, I curl the other around Juliet’s shoulders and squeeze her again.
“Daddy?” Atlas twists, seeking Vapor, and I hand him over.
“Well, come in,” Juliet says, waving her hand toward the living room. “Don’t stand there like you’re going to bolt any minute. Let’s have dinner.”
I follow her into the kitchen, salivating at the scent of whatever she’s cooking. Garlic. Lots of garlic.
“Smells good,” I say.
“We’ll see,” she mutters, stirring a long, wooden spoon in a tall pot.
Vapor’s busy setting what looks like a sectioned pet dish of bright blue plastic and chubby toddler utensils on the table.
“Why doesn’t he get a normal dish?” I ask, lifting my chin toward the square plate.
“Please don’t,” Juliet warns. “He’s fussy enough about trying new things. Don’t insult his dinnerware.”