Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“I’ll deal with you later. If she goes home upset, Mom will know, and then it could land her in the hospital. Nice job, asshole,” he tries to pin this bullshit on me.
“Low blow, even for someone like you. You’re the only person who’s upset her today. I’m making up for three years’ worth of hurt. It’s only the beginning for me, but at least I’m man enough to admit my mistakes.” With that, I get back to work. Bridger is left standing there once again without a word to say. Something has to give, and I’m sure as hell not going to have him throw blows even if they are verbal to me or Rowen.
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbles before he stomps out of my garage bay like he’s a toddler. Rowen isn’t wrong. I’m not sure how Kellie deals with him. Then again, I’m not sure how Rowen has dealt with me and my shit all this time. Now that shit is out in the open, I’ll be taking my woman on a proper date. The Fall Festival will be just the ticket. I know it’s Rowen’s favorite thing to do every year. Yeah, I’m going to love making up with her. I get back to work, giving Rowen some breathing room before letting her know the shit that went down after she left.
Seven
Rowen
“I’m not ready to forgive you, Bridger.” I don’t bother looking up from the paperwork I’m going through when I hear Braxton’s office door open and close.
“It’s a good thing I’m not him, then.” Braxton saunters his way towards me, my eyes watching him the entire time. He must have stopped and washed his hands on the way in here because they’re clean and his coveralls are tied at his waist like yesterday.
“I’ll say, I’m sorry he said what he did.” His hand moves the hair that fell from its haphazard sloppy bun out of my face. It got hot in Braxton’s office, so I nixed my cardigan, put my hair up, and got to work. Nothing could have prepared me for the number of invoices that need to be taken care of. Some weren’t marked as paid, some I can see Braxton either paid himself or wrote them off as donations, much like I have a feeling Mrs. William’s repair will end up.
“Yeah, our secret is out of the bag. There’s no way I was going to lie to his face, but I may have made it a bit difficult for you tonight when you go home. Though, I think we’ll reap the benefits in the long run. Because tomorrow night, it’s you and me, the Fall Festival, and you aren’t going home afterwards.” I see the heated desire blazing in his eyes as they’re only getting darker with what he’s telling me. I could get drunk off them without taking a sip of whiskey. That’s what he does to me.
“I bet that was an interesting conversation. I’ll let Mom know not to wait up for me. Knowing her, she’ll give Dad hell. She’s been livelier than ever lately and dishing it out to Dad. Just last night, she called him an old coot. Even then he couldn’t get upset with her,” I tell him with probably more enthusiasm than I should have, but a night out with Braxton without it being a secret, and to sleep in his arms after, it has me on the edge of my seat.
“You could say that. I’m not too worried about him. The guys will calm him down. Before I forget, your car won’t be ready till next week. Christ, you can tear a vehicle up. Do you know how low on oil you were?” he asks.
“No, the reminder didn’t come on like it usually does. It could be out too?” I really paid no attention to what’s been going on. It’s not like I was home much. When Mom was in the hospital, it was in the next town over, so I just drove over there and sat with her if no one else could. We all did it on shifts, Aspen less than anyone, but she always came home once a month to see everyone. Even Berkley would come along. We’d sit with Mom and do word puzzles, questioning her about what the answer could be. Those things always stumped me.
“Fuck, I’m telling you, babe, your car is going to need more repairs than it’s worth. Not sure what y'all were thinking buying it without me looking at it.” He shakes his head in disapproval.
“Well, to be fair, it’s not like you and I were really talking. Though, Bridger or Dad could have asked, but you know, macho men know macho stuff,” I say with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
“No shit. Still, until I’ve inspected it from top to bottom, stay in my truck. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at your place, and we’ll take the Bronco.” I beam up at him with the news we’ll take his project truck. I couldn’t be happier. He’s been working on it for years. It’s a 1981 with black exterior and interior. It’s a beast, and I know he’s almost finished with it.