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)
“Just wondering if that was something I could offer someone,” I said, shrugging.
“Does Syl want kids?” Sutton asked.
“I didn’t ask,” I admitted.
“Then it sounds like you’re borrowing trouble to me then,” he said, shrugging, then making his way outside. Where he generally preferred to be. I didn’t know a lot about his life in Texas, but I’d overheard someone talking about his ranch and his animals once, so I figured the man was accustomed to spending most of his time outside.
“Think she wants kids,” Sully said. “Talks all the time about her mom. Sounds like she had a storybook childhood.”
Until she died.
Then there was a lot of heartbreak and fear.
Though it did sound like her dad had loved her. He’d just been too wrapped up in his addiction, at times, to take care of her like she’d deserved.
Even the way she told that story of her life suggested she’d known that too. It was likely why she’d gone into the line of work she had. Because she understood it was his addiction, not his lack of love for her.
The thing was, I could see her with kids. It was probably why it was on my mind.
I’d once caught her sneaking cookies to one of the toddlers who was visiting. And running cars up and down the couch with one of the smaller boys. Showing another curious kid a bunch of her tattoos.
She liked kids.
She’d be a good mom.
She deserved to have that.
I needed to know if I could give it to her.
Because, apparently, I was thinking about the future.
With her.
And a house with a yard.
The thing was, when I pictured the kids, they had big hazel eyes. Like hers.
“Think she does too,” I agreed.
“You gonna give her some?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Why just maybe?” Sully asked.
“‘Cause I don’t know if she wants ‘em with me,” I said, shrugging.
To that, Sully rolled his eyes.
“Is being emotionally illiterate a prerequisite for being a part of this club?” he asked, shaking his head as he stood, waving a pad of paper. “Need anything from the grocery store?” he asked.
“Nah.”
As he made his way out, I noticed Brooks leaning in the doorway to the kitchen.
“What?” I asked.
“I think that fuck conned me into giving him all the jobs he likes,” he said, snorting a little. “He likes to cook. So he’s taken over cooking. He likes shopping, so he does the club’s shopping. He’s yet to scrub a toilet or wash the bikes.”
“Gotta keep an eye on them charming fucks,” I said, getting up. “How’s Callow doing?” I asked, following him into the kitchen for some coffee.
“Opposite of Sully, really,” he said.
I’d come to the same conclusion.
Sully was light and easy and fun with a carefully hidden darker side.
Callow wore his darker side on his sleeve. He kept to himself more, was more serious, even had a bit of a temper at times.
“Maybe the maturity will come with age for Sully too,” I suggested since Callow was older than most of us.
“Think that’s hoping for too much.”
“Yeah,” Brooks agreed with a sigh.
“But if it makes you feel better, think Sully is carefully hiding a lot of capability under all those Hawaiian shirts.”
“Kind of the only reason I’m tolerating him,” Brooks admitted. “The food’s pretty good too,” he added. “Going somewhere?” he asked when I grabbed a travel mug from the cupboard.
“Gonna bring Syl some coffee to work,” I told him, taking a big sip of my own.
“Yeah, she looked rough this morning. She up late?”
“Had a headache.” And cramps, but I figured that wasn’t something she wanted me telling everyone else.
“Think Billie left some of that pain cream in the prospect bathroom if you want to bring her some,” he said.
“Good idea,” I said, figuring it would work on her head and her stomach.
So I snagged that, tossing it in my pocket, then the cup in the holder one of the girls had gotten all the guys for Christmas. We’d all scoffed at it at first, not to her face, of course, but amongst ourselves. But it hadn’t escaped me that, over time, all of us had attached one to our bikes.
Coffee picked up, I made my way over toward Barlowe House.
“Hey, Voss,” Russ greeted, stopping short as he strolled through the house. He never seemed in a hurry, but also always seemed like he was on an important mission. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Bringing Syl some coffee,” I said, waving the travel mug at him. “What?” I asked when his brows furrowed.
“She’s not here.”
“What do you mean she’s not here?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I’d missed her car out front. But I guess I figured she’d just parked further down the street, not that the car wasn’t there.
No, there hadn’t been any more shady shit going on. Not even on the cameras that Junior had set up.