Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
We lay there in silence, my shyness gently fading away.
“You can stay here, with me. If you want,” he said with another squeeze. “For as long as you want. Forever.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am more than sure. Don’t you know I want to be around you as much as possible?”
A warm glow filled me.
“I think I should stay with the aunties,” I said. I could feel his disappointment. “But maybe I could stay here sometimes. If that is alright.”
“More than alright,” he said with another squeeze.
“I need to get some stuff from my apartment,” I said shyly.
“Not by yourself. Never again,” he commanded. “We can borrow one of Jack or Whiskey’s cars this afternoon. I’ll buy a truck tomorrow to get the rest. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And a proper date soon.”
“I would like that very much.”
And there it was. We were back together. And cohabitating.
Well, kind of.
Part time cohabitation.
I was smiling during the ride back to Auntie’s place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Whiskey
“From what I can see the crime around here isn’t gang related. It’s just drugs and poverty,” Preacher was saying as he looked around the park near the aunties’ house. Cynthia nodded.
“It’s not so bad. I think some cosmetic improvements and security would do wonders for morale.”
She was a smart cookie, that was for damned sure. We all loved Cynthia. Preacher was another story altogether.
The man was an ornery pain in the ass, or used to be. Cynthia had fixed that. But some of us still held a grudge for the way he’d kissed so many of our brides on our wedding days. Pre-Cynthia, of course. He was beyond faithful. He worshipped the ground his pretty little wife walked on.
Like so many of the guys, he was a reformed manwhore, to say the least.
Cynthia, Preacher, and a couple of guys from Cain’s crew headed into the neighborhood to start painting over graffiti and setting up security cameras. They gathered curious onlookers and recruited helpers as they proceeded down the tree lined street. They were experts at urban renewal. It was hard not to be impressed by what they had done up in Oregon.
Now they were fixin’ to get a lot done here, too.
“We’ll get started on the house,” Mac said, holding up his tool box. “There are some new shutters and extra shingles in the back of my truck.”
Like the rest of us, Mac collected leftovers at the end of any job. The developers were all too happy to throw out a spare extra bit of this or that. Mac made sure to gather that up. Waste not, want not, was a common phrase among our crew.
“I’ll grab those,” Tank offered as he practically flexed his muscles in anticipation. We were all ready to take action. Especially since the original cause of Dana moving into the auntie’s house was still at large.
And then everything ground to a halt.
“What is all this now?”
Auntie and Dana stood on the porch, looking alarmed. A couple of other elderly ladies joined them. It really was a grand old house and a pretty street. It had just fallen on hard times.
“We’re sprucing your house up, ma’am.”
“You sweet boys. Thank you. But that’s our landlord’s responsibility. Not that he’d ever do a damned thing.”
“Not anymore.”
“Not anymore what?”
“It’s not his responsibility anymore. We bought him out,” Drake said proudly, giving Dana and the aunties a wide smile. “The club pitched in and did it together.”
“What?” Auntie looked a bit faint. Dana looked just as surprised. Some of the other aunties were smiling.
“It’s your name, ma’am. Everything is in your name,” he reassured her. Then he gestured to the gaggle of older ladies gathering on the porch. “It’s in all of your names. And Dana’s, of course.”
“What?”
“Like you said, the landlord wasn’t going to take care of the place. You ladies deserve an upgrade. So we’re gonna give it to you. If you want us to, ma’am,” Drake said. He practically tipped his hat. I hid a grin. I would give him shit about the ‘aw shucks’ act later.
To be honest, it was kinda adorable.
The fucker. It never failed. Just when he’d slid to the depths of drunken despair, or jackassery, he did something so loyal and respectable, you forgave him for all the smack he’d talked over the years.
And the good lord knew, Drake talked smack with the best of them.
Dana was smiling tentatively. Like she wasn’t sure what to do with the big goof grinning at her with big ole muscles and a big bag full of tools. But it was obvious that he’d earned points. A whole lot of them.
“Well, then,” Auntie said, and slapped her hands on her apron. She’d recovered from her surprise quickly. “We better get some lemonade and sandwiches ready for you all.”
She clapped her hands down on her lap and just like that, everyone and everything started moving. The yard was suddenly a hive of activity, with bikers, Dana, and the aunties all getting busy at once. Shockingly, no one collided as large men carrying ladders, workbenches, and tools met ladies in aprons carrying plates of cookies and big, perfectly chilled jugs of lemonade.