Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“At the group home, we helped with dinner, but there were a couple of guys who cooked really well, so we swapped chores with them to make sure we always ate good.”
Maven laughs again and shakes her head. “It doesn’t sound as bad as I imagined,” she says wistfully, almost as if she’s happy that my upbringing wasn’t as shitty as she imagined.
I shrug off her words because everything about Maven is throwing me off kilter. I’m not looking for anything serious, but there’s something about this woman, about being with her, that makes me not just want her but want to keep her. To make her mine. Completely. Fully.
“It wasn’t all bad,” I assure her easily. “It was rough not having a family but being surrounded by other guys in the same position made it easier.”
She nods and sets a mound of dough in front of me. “Think you can roll this out for me?”
I stare at the lump of dough like it might explode. “Uhm…sure?”
She laughs. “Like this.” She pinches some flour and sprinkles it on her hands and the rolling pin, rolling it back and forth until the dough starts to flatten.
“Do you keep in touch with any of the guys from the group home?” She hands me the rolling pin and motions for me to do what she just did.
“Nah, not anymore. For a few years, me and this guy Derek kept in touch, but then I started making trips overseas that I couldn’t talk about, and the trips grew longer, and we just kind of drifted apart.”
I let out a sigh, and it turns into a laugh. “I haven’t thought about Derek in forever. He was a prankster but not mean pranks, just shit like putting clear tape on the toilet or the doorway and loosening the cap on the salt. He’s probably why we didn’t kill each other over every little thing.”
“I’ll bet you could find him if you wanted to.”
I smile at her gentle prodding because it’s just another thing to like about Maven. She isn’t just beautiful and kind, she’s funny even when she’s not trying to be, especially when she tries to use current slang.
But there’s a maturity contained within her, a settled-ness about her that draws me in and makes me crave the peace she brings. And the fact that the sex is hot as fucking hell doesn’t hurt, either. I think I’m losing my shit over this woman, and now isn’t the time to lose my shit, period.
There’s a storm brewing, and we all know it. Sure, we try to go about our daily lives at Angel Harbor Choppers or Ace Motors or any of our other businesses in town. Whether we’re drinking a beer and shooting the shit or spending time with women, though, we all know it’s coming, and we’re all ready.
Everything else is on the back burner until this shit hits the fan and lands where it will. As it stands, shit is weird with the MC.
“Something on your mind, Wilder?”
I look up from the dough and smile. “No, why do you ask?”
“Because you’re staring into space and rubbing flour into your hands like it’s lotion.”
I look down and growl. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just roll the dough and use some of those muscles to get it about a quarter-inch thick while you tell me what’s bothering you.”
I can’t tell her everything, but maybe sharing the problem will offer some unique insight. But I’m not one of those guys who shares club business with every chick who warms his bed. “Just trying to figure out a problem.”
“Okay, but you know, two heads are better than one, right?”
I nod and think about the problems plaguing the MC. Jordi is missing, which leaves us a man short guarding For Goodness Cakes, but luckily Stone is here to fill in. But that’s two prospects gone missing in the aftermath of Hector’s unsanctioned murder, and that’s not a fucking coincidence.
“You know anything about finding a mole?”
She shakes her head. “I assume you don’t mean the animal? I mean, I don’t know how to find that kind of mole either, but I’m a big fan of fiction.”
I laugh and motion to the dough. “Better?”
Her face splits into a beautiful smile. “Perfect. Now use this cutter and make as many cookies as you can, rolling out the remaining dough again and repeating. Got it?”
I nod. “So you’re offering me a fictional version of finding a mole?”
“Smart ass,” she says and lays out several long rolls of dough and brushes them with butter. “What I’m offering you is a common thread throughout the mole-finding genre.”
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m listening.” That’s just another sign of just how far gone I am over this woman.
“Well, when it comes to finding a mole you have two routes you can take. The first is if you have a suspect or two, then you set a trap aimed at them specifically. The other is if you have a motive but no suspect, you set a different kind of trap that usually involves money or sex.”