Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Then why?” I asked.
“Well, two reasons, really. I need something to wear that isn’t old hospital scrubs. And I have to feed my skink.”
“Your… what?” I asked.
“Skink,” she said. “Blue Tongue Skink. It’s a lizard. And he’s probably getting pissy that I missed his breakfast.”
“The fuck does he eat? Mice and shit?” I asked.
“It’s a… varied diet. Bugs, vegetables, some premium dog food, quail eggs…”
“Your lizard eats better than you do,” Sully said as he took the pan to the sink.
“I would say something sarcastic about that, but it’s true,” she said.
“Why a lizard?” I asked.
“It wasn’t really my choice. I dated this real asshole. He had the skink in this tiny-ass cage that he could barely move around in. When I found out he was cheating, I took the lizard and some of the vinyl collection his old man left to him that he didn’t give a shit about.”
“He had it coming,” Sully said in a sing-song way that made me think it was from a song or some shit, but I had no idea.
“He did,” she agreed, nodding. “And I have a bit of a vengeful streak. But, yeah, I need to feed him.”
“Soon as you’re ready, we can head out,” I offered.
“Then let’s go,” she said, wheeling her chair toward the doorway. “Sully, you are now my personal chef,” she told him as she scooted past. “You better know how to make baked ziti, because I feel a craving coming on.”
“Anything for you, angel,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest, then dipping into an exaggerated bow that had her letting out a tinkling little laugh.
That weird feeling in my gut again?
You guessed it.
Jealousy.
The fuck was that about?
CHAPTER SIX
Sylvie
I never really thought about my apartment from an outsider’s perspective.
Sure, I’d brought dates home, but the goal was usually the bed and some relief from whatever sexual tension had been building.
I was surprised by the way nerves jangled in my bones as I swayed on my crutches as I dragged my keys out of my pocket.
Because, for the first time, someone was coming in to see my place that I wasn’t going to distract with sex.
I mean… I wouldn’t kick Voss out of bed.
But that was beside the point.
It was only fair, too.
I got to see his home and his room inside of that clubhouse that many of the bikers seemed to live.
The common room had been kind of modern-vintage, if that made any sort of sense at all. Like, it was all mostly new, but the pool table, darts, the full bar, they all kind of had a vintage feel.
The living area was off to the side, facing a giant TV because, well, men, and what looked like a couple of gaming system. Because, yeah, younger guys.
The kitchen was somewhat small considering it was feeding so many men.
The bedrooms were good sized, too. And each had their own bathroom, which was nice and unexpected.
What’s more… the whole place was clean.
You think of a bunch of rowdy men living together and any woman gets those little icky shivers at the idea of the state of the bathrooms or the various spills and stains.
Clearly, though, the prospects were kept busy scrubbing the place top-to-bottom.
Voss’s room in particular was kind of bare-bones. Gray walls. Dark gray bedding. Nothing on the walls. Dark wood dressers. There was a collection of random pocket junk on the top of one of them. A lighter. Change. Keys. And a wad of cash.
I didn’t count it, though some part of me really wanted to. But if they were all the twenties that they looked to be, it was at least a grand.
A grand.
Just sitting around.
Apparently, I should have gone into the outlaw biker business. Lots of money. A rent-free room. And someone else to cook for me.
As it was, I was just a worker at a halfway house. Which meant my apartment was of the small variety and not in the nicest of areas.
But, yeah, it wasn’t usually a complete disaster like it was when I opened the door to invite Voss in.
I was usually kind of proud of my place. I’d put a lot of time and work and thought into it.
As a former kid who never had a home, I’d always fantasized about having a place to call my own, somewhere that I could let my personality shine through.
The walls were painted a dramatic dark gray and there were lots of black and white elements. The walls showcased work I’d picked up on my travels as a girl, from local art galleries, or even a few things drawn or painted for me from residents of Barlowe House.
The kitchen was all but untouched save for the fact that I’d put peel & stick tile under the cabinets since there hadn’t been any sort of backsplash and it felt kind of disjointed.