Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“No, baby,” he whispered, looking right in my eyes. “Not even a little bit.”
God, I needed to kiss him.
“Are you sure we can’t make out?”
My heart soared when he dipped in and touched his lips to mine.
Then he pulled back.
And I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Tease,” I accused.
“Whatever,” he replied. “Put ice cream on the list. And a jar of hot fudge, a can of whipped cream, not that Cool Whip stuff, nuts and cherries.”
“You’re hog wild when it comes to sundaes,” I noted with deep approval.
“We could say I’m an aficionado.”
Now he was totally teasing, and it was totally sweet, so I laughed out loud.
Hugger curled an arm around my shoulders, tucked me close and ordered, “Woman. List.”
I got down to scribbling.
Hugger helped with menu selections.
Big Petey came back with Madison’s phone, and we decided he’d go to the store because he didn’t have any problem taking Baby Shark and neither of their bikes could cart that amount of groceries.
Hugger stayed with me, chilling, chatting and starting up My Cat from Hell episodes until Big Petey got back with the groceries. He helped put away (another big one for the pro side) before he returned to my room to try another nap.
Madison came out not much later, and was so happy to have a phone, she actually gave Big Petey a hug.
He wrapped her close in his arms, looked over her head and met my eyes.
Mine were wet.
And his were too.
Pizza, hot fudge sundaes, copious beer and wine consumed, the men were gone, Big Petey going with them.
Madison had turned in early, probably still drained from her emotional day (though, I had the sneaking suspicion she was also giving me time alone with Hugger).
This I was taking, not cuddling on the couch.
Oh no.
We were both stretched out on it, Hugger to the back, me along his front, our arms around each other and our legs a little tangled, totally in make-out position (and more), just without the making-out part.
He had a weird way of not being affectionate and touchy.
I wasn’t going to say a danged thing.
As noted, we were not snogging, but Hugger was busy inscribing a number of pros on the Do I Want to Explore This with Hugger List.
These included being hella skilled with delivering an Eskimo kiss (I mean…yum), having awesome powers using his hands to smooth and sooth and not get a girl hot and bothered (or not too hot and bothered, I was both just being so close to him, feeling his warmth, smelling his scent, having his attention), and playing footsie.
Yes!
Playing footsie.
See?
He was totally cute under all that big, strong, burly, whiskered man.
“So do you have a minimum rating on the hotness scale to allow bikers into your brotherhood?” I asked.
He blinked once, fast, and chuckling, asked back, “What?”
“Dutch is amazing-looking.”
Yes, I’d met Dutch.
And Eight had dragged Core and Linus along with the rest of them, so my table was so full, I’d had to borrow chairs from my neighbor. Although Madison didn’t natter away with all the boys, in her cocoon with me, Pete, Hugger, Eight and Muzzle at one end of the table, she did open up.
Core was Hollywood handsome. Linus not far away from that, but he was younger and hadn’t grown into his good looks yet, that being, exuding the confidence that Core did.
And Dutch was what I said.
Amazing.
There was just something really beautiful in his eyes, like a universal empathy with all the woes a human could face. It was a sight to behold.
“You think Dutch is hot?” Hugger asked, like he thought Dutch was the dictionary definition of fugly.
“You don’t?”
“Can say we don’t have a minimum rating because we don’t notice that shit.”
“It’s hard to miss. I mean, I’m scared to meet Jagger and Roscoe when they get here. My retinas might burn out.”
Another chuckle and, “Get ready. Jagger is Dutch’s younger brother. You think Dutch is hot, they look alike, so there you go. I don’t got a vagina, so no clue what women think of Coe. Though, can say he’s got no problem with getting himself some.”
“I’ll let you know when I meet him,” I offered.
“I’ll be waitin’ with bated breath for that, babe,” he teased.
“So Dutch is very married, considering how big and shiny his wedding band is,” I noted as a prompt to get him talking about his brothers.
“Yeah, Georgie. She’s the shit. Jag’s hitched too, to Archie. She’s also the shit, but in a different way. Georgie is a journalist. Archie owns her own store, and I don’t shop, but it’s pretty kickass.”
“Two brothers are married to two women with men’s names?”
“It just happened that way.”
A good reminder that life could offer some fun surprises sometimes.
“Dutch seems…” I didn’t know how to describe it. “Like he’s super-tuned into what’s going on. Almost more than Big Petey is with his age and experience and wisdom.”