Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Unfortunately, it was the same moment Liam collected his to-go container and started for the exit.
Panic clawed at Tate’s chest. “Shit,” he muttered. “Rand, let me out,” he said, tapping his brother’s arm with the back of his hand.
“What? Why? You gotta piss or something?” He followed Tate’s gaze, and a gleeful smirk crossed his face. “Hell no. I ain’t movin’. That little fucker’s got a mouth on him. Let him try it out on Duck.”
Daryl whipped around. “Woo-hoo, this is gonna be fucking good.”
He shoved his brother hard. “I said get the fuck out of my way, Randy.”
Randy managed to grab the table before he hit the grimy floor. “Why the fuck do you give a shit about that fa—”
Tate’s expression must have been fierce enough to keep Randy from uttering the slur. Either that or his brother remembered he was in public, and the entire world didn’t think as he did, but that was too advanced for a Neanderthal like him, so it was probably the first thing.
Tate clenched his fists and spoke through clenched teeth while keeping one eye on Liam. “Swear to Christ, Randy, if you don’t get the fuck outta this booth and let me pass, I’ll stomp the hell all over your ass to get out.”
“Fine, but don’t expect me to jump in and help your stupid ass,” he muttered. Randy scooted out of the booth and stood to allow Tate to pass. Tate followed so close behind his brother that he barreled into him as he rushed to get to Liam.
“Fuck’s sake, T,” Randy grumbled.
“What a stupid shit,” Daryl said to his back.
He reached Liam just as Ducky stepped back to block the exit. He folded his beefy arms covered in new and shitty prison tats across his chest and glared down at Liam as though the man was shit on his shoe.
“Well, who do we have here? You must be that new dance teacher I keep hearing about. The one who just moved to town and wants to teach the kids all about being a gay.”
“Excuse me,” Liam said with an edge to his voice. “Just need to get to the exit.”
Ducky glanced over Liam’s shoulder. “Ah, Tate, defender of all the queers. You here to make sure I don’t make this one cry?”
“Just let ’im pass, Duck. No need to cause a scene in the diner. You know Millie will whip your ass if you do.” She’d whip Tate’s, too, if he threw the first punch, though she seemed to like Liam, so maybe she’d forgive him for taking out a few of Ducky’s teeth in her diner.
Liam propped a hand on his hip. “Oh, you’re Ducky,” he said with a tone of understanding.
Shit, here it comes. He put a hand on Liam’s lower back, trying to convey with touch how quickly this could turn dangerous.
“Look, I get it,” Liam said with a shrug. “You were in prison for a while, and it’s weird being out. You miss being someone’s bitch.” He pressed a hand to his chest with a dramatic flair. “I’m honored you thought of me, really, I am, but like I told your brother over there, you’re just not my type.”
Ducky lunged forward. “You fucking—”
Tate managed to grab Liam and shove him behind his back as Millie shouted, “Donald Hayes, don’t you dare.” She shuffled over, shaking her finger at him like he was a naughty six-year-old instead of a full-grown man about to attack another. “I will not have any of that hatred in my diner, you hear me?”
His eyes narrowed, and he shot daggers at Tate, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to cross Millie. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.
“Now you got two choices. You can sit down and enjoy a nice meal with your people, or you can get the hell out and let my customers eat in peace.”
“I’m hungry as hell, Miss Millie, I’ll sit,” he grumbled.
Ducky made sure to bump both Tate and Liam with his shoulder as he passed by, muttering something to Liam that Tate couldn’t make out.
Liam opened his mouth, no doubt to further slice Ducky to ribbons with his razor-sharp tongue, but Tate pulled him back. He held his upper arm gently, stroking the skin with his thumb hidden up Liam’s sleeve. “He’s a violent prick,” he muttered too low for anyone but Liam to hear. “Millie’s warning will only go so far. Walk out the door, Luxe.”
The use of his nickname seemed to grab Liam’s attention. He nodded once and sent Tate a look that said they’d be talking about this later before slipping out the door.
Every instinct Tate had screamed at him to follow Liam. To make sure he wasn’t too shaken and to drag him somewhere private so he could get his hands and mouth on the man to convince himself Liam wasn’t too rattled. But it would lead to questions he wasn’t ready to answer and possibly cause more trouble for Liam.