Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“And you know what this story is gonna bring up in me,” Riggs said low.
Harry didn’t break eye contact when he replied, “I know.”
“You’re a motherfucker,” Riggs muttered and nabbed his fork.
“I’ve seen pictures of her,” Harry said.
“Fuck off,” Riggs returned before shoving pancakes in his mouth.
“She and her mom both took after the bombshell in the family line,” Harry noted.
Riggs did nothing but swallow his pancakes and grunt.
But his friend was right.
He couldn’t put his finger on it until now, but even in a tight cami, faded jeans, ridiculous Birks, a sloppy sweater with sexy-as-all-fuck, messy, bedhead hair, Nadia Antonov looked like an old-time Hollywood goddess.
And what cut it?
Her damned attitude made him fight his dick getting hard.
His father had used his charm and good looks in much the same way Nadia’s had.
There was a time Riggs considered taking a blade to his face because the attention could get annoying, and sometimes it was downright oppressive.
But Nadia Antonov…
The woman wasn’t about to drop to her knees and suck his dick if he just snapped his fingers.
Which of course made him want to feel his cock in her mouth all the more.
Fuck him.
“To circle back, live as large as you want, my brother, just keep it down so your neighbor can get a good night’s sleep,” Harry finished.
He had no choice but to do that.
And more.
No choice but look after the woman.
Yeah.
Fuck.
Him.
Hard.
FIVE
The Hole
Riggs
Before opening time, Riggs pushed through the door of The Black Hole, one of the many bars in Misted Pines, or in The Hole’s case, on the outskirts of it, but not one of the better ones.
He did this in search of his bud, Bubbles.
The place was dark, only the lights over the bar illuminated, but it was clear the staff at closing the night before hadn’t bothered with clean up before they took off. There were empties everywhere, and as usual, the soles of his boots stuck to the floor with every step he took.
He headed to the door at the back, lifted a hand and rapped his knuckles on it, shouting, “Yo, Bubbles, it’s Doc. You in there?”
Riggs had known Bubbles since high school, so he was prepared for the door to crash open with more enthusiasm than was needed.
And Bubbles stood there, balding, stout, not short but also not tall, looking like Riggs felt before he’d caffeinated and carbed up.
However rough Bubbles felt, very little broke Bubbles’s good ole boy.
Bubbles wasn’t called Bubbles for nothing.
“Yo, buddy!” he cried like Riggs was a football field away. “You’re back in town.”
“Yeah. Got back from a job yesterday.”
Bubbles pulled a bogus frown. “Didn’t see you here last night.”
“Had a thing at my place.”
The frown that bought wasn’t bogus. “Didn’t get the text.”
Riggs shook his head. “Brother, Lucille told me if I invited you over one more time and you skipped looking after The Hole to get drunk at my pad, she’d kick your ass out.”
“Well, Lucille is history, so no worries about that anymore,” Bubbles returned, the expression on his face defiant, but hearing the words, Riggs saw the sadness it was hiding.
This was news, and not good news. They’d been together awhile, and Lucille was a kind woman. She cared for Bubbles, and Bubbles felt the same. She also had the patience of a saint, and the same capacity to forgive, something important for the woman in Bubbles’s life. Riggs had thought this time for Bubbles, it was going to stick.
Though, truth told, it wasn’t surprising news.
Even so, Riggs had been out of town for less than two weeks.
But when Bubbles was ready to make a trainwreck of his life, he didn’t fuck around.
Riggs heaved a sigh.
“Where are you crashing?” he asked.
Bubbles suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes.
That meant he was crashing on his mother’s couch.
A forty-year-old man who was crashing on his mother’s couch…again. All because he found it impossible to keep his shit tight.
At least he hadn’t asked to crash at Riggs’s, which would put Riggs in the position of telling him fuck no. Riggs had learned that lesson the hard way years ago when a “couple of nights” turned into three months, and by the time the man left, Riggs’s cupboards were bare, there wasn’t a drop of booze left in the place, he’d had to buy a new couch, and he’d nearly lost a good friend.
As messy as his bud was, he loved him, because Bubbles was impossible not to love.
That said, right now, Riggs didn’t have the time or patience for this shit.
“Listen, need a bottle. A good one. I pissed off my neighbor, and I need to make amends.”
Bubbles eyes got huge. “So, rumor is true? Someone’s living at Weaver Cabin?”
“Yeah,” Riggs confirmed.
“Holy shit!” Bubbles yelled.
“It’s a rental house on a lake, Bubs, and it’s good Dave and Brenda finally have someone in it.”