Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
If Colt and the Satan’s Death Riders MC had people watching her, she had to assume her father did as well.
Once inside his car, she looked toward Petal, but her friend was now pulling out of the parking lot. Colt climbed behind the wheel, turning over the ignition.
“I didn’t know you were coming to get me,” Rosalie said.
“I’m going to take care of you, Rosalie. I meant what I said.”
She wanted to correct him in calling her Rose.
“Why is your name shortened down to Rose?” Colt asked. “It made more sense to me to call you Rosa?”
“My mom likes roses, and I don’t know, it’s what she said to me growing up. Rosie, Rose, that’s what she would call me. Never Rosa.”
“Ah, makes sense. So, your mom called you Rose?”
“Yeah.”
Sitting back in the car, Rosalie didn’t know what else to say to him.
“Do you remember anything before your mom?” Colt asked.
“You’ve already asked me this. Is there something you know that you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing. Just trying to get to know you. It seems strange is all, Daemon having a kid that he has nothing to do with.”
“I wasn’t a son.”
“Do you know you have a brother?”
“I’ve never met him.” She shrugged. “I’m guessing he has a lot of kids.”
“He doesn’t, actually,” Colt said. “Just the one son I mentioned. Bug.”
“Bug?”
“Yeah.”
“You really weren’t making that up? That’s a horrible name.”
Colt chuckled.
They arrived at her mother’s house. Rosalie climbed out of the car and headed up toward the garden path, to the front door. She slid her key into the lock, aware of Colt joining her.
She stepped into her home, like she had done so many other times before, but this was different. She never had a guy with her.
“Er, make yourself at home,” she said.
Without looking at him, she walked upstairs, going as fast as she could to get to her room. Opening the door, she went straight to her closet and grabbed a suitcase.
“So, this is your room,” Colt said.
She dropped the suitcase onto the bed. “You’re supposed to wait downstairs.”
“You told me to make myself at home, so I am.”
“Downstairs, not in my bedroom.”
Colt smiled and she hated that he looked … sexy? No, that wasn’t it, it couldn’t possibly be it. She was used to his frown and the glare. They were easy for her to deal with.
“You’ve never had a guy in your room,” he said.
“So?”
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m a full-grown woman.”
“Do you think your mom will be pissed if she sees me here?”
“Colt, you’re my husband, not a boy from school. She wouldn’t care.”
He sat down on her bed and leaned over, propping his head up onto his hand. “And you never had boys in your room?”
“Petal stayed in my room, not boys.” She rolled her eyes.
“You do that a lot,” he said.
“What?”
“Roll your eyes. It’s cute. So are you and Petal, like, a thing?”
“A thing?”
“You know, together?”
“You’re asking me if I’m in a relationship with my best friend?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“There you go again. Petal and I are besties. We’re the sisters we never had. We’ve always had each other’s backs, and no, there are no sexual feelings at all.”
“You’re together all the time.”
“She’s not here now,” Rosalie said.
“But she’s everywhere. If I was to attempt to take you for a weekend, you’re telling me she wouldn’t turn up at my place or the clubhouse?” Colt picked up one of her camisole tops, and she took it from him, neatly folding it.
“I’m not saying a thing. Petal cares, okay?”
“And will she give me the chance to care?”
“What are you doing?” Rosalie asked. “What is this?”
“This is me attempting to be nice,” Colt said, shrugging. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s weird. I’m used to … moody Colt. He’s a little easier to deal with.”
Colt laughed. “You’re going to have to get used to nice Colt.” He got to his feet and moved toward her closet. “You don’t own a lot of dresses.”
“I’ve not had many reasons to wear one.” She finished grabbing a couple more pairs of jeans as well as dungarees. “I won’t be able to dress like your club girls.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t mind.”
“Seriously? I thought you’d be used to scantily clad women.”
“Are you jealous?”
“No, why would I be jealous?” she asked, turning toward him.
“I’m your husband. Isn’t it normal for wives to get jealous of women attempting to poach?”
Rosalie chuckled. “You and I don’t have a proper marriage. You’ve probably been screwing those women anyway.” She wrinkled her nose. “You have been wearing a condom, haven’t you? Do I need to go and get myself tested?”
Colt moved toward her far drawers and opened them, finding several pairs of panties. “Sexy,” he said. She walked toward him and snatched them out of his hands.
“Stop it.”
“No, no, and no.”
“Huh?”
“No, I’ve not been screwing women. No, I’ve not been wearing a condom, because the only woman I’ve been with in the past few months is you, and no, you don’t need to get tested. I’m clean.”