Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
"It wasn't your place to try to shield me, Autumn. I pissed him off on purpose. You know that."
"I'm the big sister; it's always my job to try to shield you. But I get it. He was the only male role model we had. And he treated you like shit. I know you've had issues with guys ever since then."
"I don't have issues with men," I objected. "I just like to keep things casual."
"Right. Because if it gets complicated, you have to be vulnerable. You open yourself up to the rejection you always got from Dad. And you don't think you can handle that. I get it, I really do. But that doesn't mean that it is healthy."
"So, what? It is healthy to catch feelings for an outlaw, arms-dealing biker whose name is Sugar?"
"If he's the right guy, yeah," she said, shrugging. "Peyton, in what world would you have pictured me with an ex-con who had spent most of his life as a vicious loanshark enforcer? I mean, come on. We don't get control over this kind of thing."
"The Mallicks and Rivers will freak out if they hear about this."
"We aren't going to tell them, babe. You know you can trust us. At least until we have to tell them. If we have to tell them."
"If it gets serious," I clarified.
"Exactly," she agreed. "If it turns out that a month from now, you realize you were really just addicted to his third arm, no harm, no foul. We don't want to get that testosterone all stirred up for no reason. But you can come to us. You can come to me. I get how strange this must be for you. Sometimes, it helps to talk it out. That's all I am saying."
"I'm the only number saved into his contacts," I blurted out, feeling foolish as a schoolgirl with a crush.
"Really?" she asked, smile warm. "That's good, right?"
"I told him that if he falls in love with me, I'm gone."
She snorted at that. "Of course you did."
"He believed me," I told her as she threw an arm around my waist to lead me back inside.
"No, he didn't," she said, sure, so sure that I almost believed her too.
Almost.
"Wait," I screamed at Sugar a few hours later. Screamed because the music was blaring.
I ran across my apartment toward the stereo sitting in the open bathroom window, speakers facing outward. Sugar followed me in as I watched the stopwatch count down on my phone.
At eight-fifty-nine on the dot, I flicked off the stereo and closed the window.
"The fuck was that?" he asked, watching me with drawn-together brows.
"I have this asshole neighbor," I informed him, jabbing my finger to the window across the courtyard. "He calls the cops on tenants at least a dozen times a month."
"How many times he call on you?"
"Eight. And counting," I said, leading him back out of the bathroom.
"So you blast music until the noise ordinance kicks in?" he asked, impressing me with how fast he put two and two together.
"A couple times a month," I agreed. "With permission from the other neighbors. He still calls sometimes, but the cops just come and shake their heads at me, reminding me that by nine, I had to quiet down. Eli said he isn't going to renew his lease, but he still has three months left."
"So you decided to make it as unpleasant as possible for him."
"I aim to be a nuisance to society," I declared with a smile.
He smirked at that, his gray eyes a bit, I don't know, sweet? Could eyes be sweet? If they could, his were.
"So how did dinner go? Still fit into your pants, I see."
"Shane cut me off after three pieces of garlic bread," I told him, knowing I was still pouting about it.
"That fuck," Sugar agreed with me, smiling, reaching to grab my hips, pulling me against him.
"Right?" I agreed.
"I wouldn't cut off your garlic bread."
"Hey, if I made it, no one can cut me off."
"So maybe you won't make it."
"Been taking cooking classes?" I asked, smiling at the idea.
"Maybe I've been thinking about taking this out of this apartment. And to Famiglia."
"Famiglia?" I asked, feeling my belly leap a bit at the idea. Because he meant a date. An actual date.
"Yeah, they have garlic bread," he informed me as though I didn't know.
"No shit, Sherlock. But why would we go there?"
"We got to eat," he said, shrugging it off. Like it wasn't a big deal. But it was a big deal. At least to me. "Speaking of leaving the apartment, what are you doing tomorrow?"
"Work," I supplied.
"Before that," he asked, knowing I only worked nights. At my head shake, his hands slid from my hips to my ass, sinking in. "Want to learn about those guns you asked about?"
"Ah, hell yes," I said, without thinking. Because, well, hell yes. "I will look badass with a gun. But don't be trying to pass off lady guns on me. I want something cool."