Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Jax: Us too. Especially me. Thanks for being so cool about it. I pegged you for a prick and I was wrong.
Me: Nah, just a guy who wants to peg you with his prick.
Jax: I walked into that one, didn’t I?
Me: Now if only we could get you to stop walking into things and start walking out…
Jax: Good night, big city man.
Me: Night, Sheriff.
Jaxson
“It’s called a lumber party. Get it?” Cato asks. “Hey, dummy. Focus.”
I growl when he smacks me in the head. “What the hell was that for?”
“For ignoring me,” he sasses back. “I’m trying to plan my birthday party and it’s like you don’t even care.”
“I care,” I mutter, frowning at him. “I’m just thinking about the Rainbow Vigilante case.”
Not a total lie.
It’s on my mind, especially since this time the perp hit Wolffish Floral last night. Wanda, the elderly owner, said it’s pretty and she’s keeping it, much to Ned Townsend’s horror. Paul interrogated her like she was a goddamn suspect in a murder investigation until I made his ass leave her alone.
No new leads, which is annoying as hell.
But that’s not what’s on my mind. It’s last night. Him.
Dante fucking Kincaid.
“Who’s the lucky sister?” Cato asks, his dark brow arched high before whispering, “or mister?”
I clear my throat and shake my head. “It’s no one. Do you have to sit on my desk?”
“He’s like a parrot,” Brie chimes in unhelpfully from nearby. “But, like, he talks way more. He’d sit on your shoulder if he could.”
“Hush, female,” Cato hisses before turning back to me. “Focus, babe. We’re talking about the most anticipated event of the year.”
“You’re the only one who anticipates it,” I tease, smirking at him.
“Take it back,” he growls, “or I’ll make it a drag party and get to pick out a dress for you to wear.”
“Fine,” I say through a laugh. “I’m sorry. Now please, tell me all about this lumber party.”
He grins at me, preening that he got his damn way. “So it’s like a slumber party, but rather than a bunch of annoying girls—no offense, Brie pumpkin—it’s just the boys.”
“This doesn’t sound fun at all,” I throw out. “Zero fun.”
“I wore hideous bowling shoes for your birthday, Jaxson Matthew Bell! You owe me!”
“You’re such a little baby,” I complain. “Fine. Tell me what I have to do.”
“All you have to do is show up,” he says, toying with his black scarf. “Bring ice cream and your jammies. We’ll watch movies and eat a million calories because calories don’t count on your birthday. That’s what Momma says anyway.”
“This party sounds…vague.”
“You don’t trust me?” He gasps as though I’ve offended him. “I promise. It’s innocent. Just boys being adorable and hanging out.” He bats his lashes at me.
Fuck, I’m weak for this idiot.
“Whatever. I’ll be there,” I concede. “Now get off my desk and go to work.”
“My appointment is late. I’ll just hang out until he arrives.”
“Or, you could give Ox a quick bath. Someone thought it was a great idea to roll around in the mud this morning.”
Ox groans in exasperation. He hates the word bath almost as much as he despises the man who always gives him one.
“You filthy little beast,” Cato chides. “Time to get Catoed!”
As soon as he’s coaxed my lazy mutt upstairs to his pet grooming studio, I let out a heavy sigh, ignoring Brie’s smirk. My phone buzzes and I quickly snatch it up, wondering if it’s Dante. The heat flooding to my dick cools the moment I realize it’s Mom.
Mom: Imagine my surprise when I went to wake Zak up for school only to realize he’d moved out…
Irritation burns in my gut. If she would ever stand up to my dad for being such an asshole, maybe her son wouldn’t have had to leave in the first place. Hell, maybe her oldest son could admit he was gay without fear of repercussions.
Me: It was his third strike at school. Brandon tried calling you both. I figured we’d avoid the huge blowout where you kick him out and get the show on the road.
Mom: I’m sensing a disrespectful tone, Jax.
Me: Tone is lost in written text, Mother. I did what ultimately needed to be done. Don’t worry, he’s safe at my place.
Mom: Lord. He’ll run all over you too just like he’s tried doing to us. This was supposed to be a lesson for him, not a vacation from reality.
Me: Where did you expect him to go?
Mom: He wants to act grown, then he should have figured it out himself.
Me: He’s just a kid.
Mom: He’s eighteen. At eighteen, you were responsible and mature. Well-behaved. If he keeps being the way he is, you’ll have to use that dusty jail cell of yours at the station. Imagine how embarrassed your father would be then.
It’s what everything boils down to with the Bells.