Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Fine. As for Rooster, aren’t you usually the keeper of his whereabouts?”
“He rode home with you guys, right?” I ask, ignoring the whole keeper thing.
“Yeah,” he answers with obvious irritation in his tone. “Grinder and Rooster kept riding straight to their houses.” He glances at his phone. “I assume Rooster is ‘reuniting’ with Shelby by now.”
“We’re not sitting at the table?” I ask.
“No. I’m just here to drop off something. I have my own reuniting with my woman I want to do.”
Jamming my hands in my pockets, I stare down at my boots and laugh. “Gotcha, Prez.” I open the clubhouse door for him. “After you.”
“Gee, thanks.” Z pats my cheek, then stops and glances back at my bike. Fuck, all my gear from the trip is still strapped to it.
He shifts his gaze from the bike to me one more time, then steps inside the clubhouse.
Phew.
I lift my chin at Butcher and Grip. “How’d it go?”
“You missed a good time,” Grip says, slapping my shoulder. “Those southern muffler bunnies suck cock like it’s their mission in life, brother.”
I roll my eyes skyward. “Good to know. Thought it was a muffler bunny-free zone for the memorial?”
Grip shrugs. “Memorial was over.”
Butcher lifts his chin at the clubhouse. “Z’s been grumpy the whole way home.”
“Poor Lilly.” Grip lets out a dirty chuckle. “Z’s probably gonna fuck her through a wall when he gets his hands on her.”
“Z’s gonna put your face through a wall if he hears you talking about his ol’ lady like that,” I warn, although I’ve had my own impure thoughts about Lilly once or twice. I wouldn’t say them out loud, though.
I follow them inside. Eazy, Suds, and a few other brothers are at the bar, rehashing the trip. Lala’s got her friend Kristen behind the bar with her serving drinks.
The noise and chatter of the clubhouse grates on me after a while. I stay to bullshit with the guys a bit longer, then check the time. Rooster and Shelby should be taking a break from their “reuniting” by now.
As much as I enjoy the camaraderie with my brothers, my mind’s somewhere else. With a certain someone whose soft curves, blonde hair, and wicked sense of humor constantly hover in my mind.
After a quick nod to the guys, I slip out the front door and head home.
Rooster’s in the kitchen, shirtless and guzzling water from a gallon jug.
So many jokes come to mind. My eyes are about to pop out of my head with the effort of holding them in.
“I so badly want to make a joke about your ol’ lady draining you dry but I feel like it’s disrespectful to Shelby,” I finally blurt out.
Eh, I tried.
Rooster blows out a slow, irritated breath, sets the jug on the counter and turns around. “And yet, you said it anyway. Hello to you too, cock-knocker. Where’ve you been?”
“Clubhouse. Figured we were all meeting there, but everyone went home to fuck instead.”
He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement.
I glance at the hallway leading to the back staircase and up to their bedroom. “I assume Shelby will be unconscious for a few minutes. Can I talk to you for a sec?”
He stares at me, then must decide I’m not yanking his chain, and nods. “You want coffee? Shelby made a huge batch of kitchen sink cookies.” He nods to a long blue-and-pink tray loaded with cookies sitting in the middle of the table.
“What the fuck are kitchen sink cookies?” I ask, although I’m intrigued and already on my way to grab one.
“Uh, chocolate chunk, pecans, coconut.” He shrugs. “They’re good.”
I take a small bite of one. “Sweet Jesus, you should go away more often.”
His mouth twists into an annoyed smirk and he rolls his eyes. “So, yes to coffee?”
“Yeff,” I mumble around a mouthful of sweet chocolate-coconutty goodness.
While the coffee’s brewing, he leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why do you look like you’re about to explode and splatter Jigsaw particles all over my kitchen?”
“What?” But he described how I feel accurately. I stay by the table and grab another cookie. While I’m munching on it, working out what I want to say, he crosses to the fridge and pulls out a carton of half-n-half and a carton of milk. At the counter, he grabs a glass, pours milk into it, then hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I mumble, swallowing the rest of the cookie. I drink half the glass, then set it on the table.
Just say it. “Don’t get mad.” I hold my arms out straight in front of me in a don’t kill me meets calm down gesture.
Rooster groans. “Always a good conversation opener.”
“When you and Shelby first hooked up, it was only supposed to be a vacation thing, right?”