Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
My phone rang before I could ask them, and I looked at the readout and contemplated answering it.
In the end, I knew that I wouldn’t ignore it.
“Hello?” I answered the phone as I drove.
“Um, Tate?”
My happy mood soured.
“Rosemary,” I said carefully. “How are you?”
“I need to tell you something.”
My brows furrowed.
I scratched my head. “I can’t do it today, Rose,” I told her. “I have a few things I need to take care of, and I’m ready to be home. I can meet you tomorrow, though.”
Rosemary immediately agreed. “Okay.”
Which was odd for her. Rosemary was an arguer. I always told her that she should try out for the debate team. She never liked hearing the word ‘no’ and she always argued, just because she could.
I should’ve known then that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but chose to take the agreement for the boon it was.
And I shouldn’t.
“Where do you want to meet tomorrow?” I asked. “Lunchtime okay?”
“Yes,” she agreed again. “That’s perfect. Can you meet me at Bord’s?”
I didn’t want to go anywhere near that place, not even a little bit.
“I don’t want to meet you there,” I told her bluntly. “I really don’t want to have anything to do with that place, or Ariya’s parents.”
Bord’s was Ariya’s parents’—well, father and step mother—diner, bar, and grill.
I loved their food. What I didn’t love was the company.
“Please?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Twelve?”
“Eleven. Less people.”
I should’ve asked why less people mattered, but I didn’t. I let it go, knowing that she’d keep arguing if I didn’t agree.
“Fine,” I grunted. “Bye.”
I didn’t wait for the reply, just hung up, and kept driving.
“Who’s Rosemary?” Rafe asked.
I sighed.
“Ex’s sister,” I told him. “Why did you happen to have a bug in your pants that you could conveniently plant in the pastor’s house, and why did you volunteer to come with me?”
Rafe grinned.
“You’re not the only one with problems around here,” he told me. “Plus, I figured I’d do you a favor so I could collect my own later on.”
That I believed.
“Whatever,” I said, pulling the truck into traffic. “You want me to take you back to the office before I head home, or do you have somewhere else in mind?”
“You can drop me off at the diner,” he told me. “I’ll find a ride back from there.”
I did as he asked, trying not to think about anything that had to do with Pastor Hanes, and that included Hennessy and my mother.
By the time I arrived at the diner, I’d very nearly managed to clear my head completely, only to get pissed all over again to see Hennessy walking down the sidewalk away from the gas station toward her car once again.
She had those same taquitos as the day before, and I found myself pissed off at the way her hair was a jagged mess along the length of her shoulders.
I’d enjoyed the hell out of running my fingers through it when she’d fucked me. Now I’d barely have anything to hold onto the next time I took her to bed.
“Thanks for the ride,” Rafe said, shoving open the door.
Then he slammed it shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
“The next time I take her to bed?” I asked myself aloud. “Seriously, Casey. You need to get your shit together.”
I needed to, but did I? Hell no.
I’d never once made the best decision that there was to make. I was a rebel. The type of man that didn’t march to the beat of anyone’s drum but his own. At thirty-seven years old, that was never going to change.
She was who my body wanted, and she was who my body would have. It didn’t matter that she was the notorious good girl, and I was the infamous bad boy. What mattered was that we fucking wanted each other. We’d worry about the rest later.
Chapter 14
When someone tells me ‘you’re going to regret that in the morning’ I only laugh. Why? Because most of the time I sleep in until noon.
-Krisney to Hennessy
Hennessy
I nervously worried my lip as I walked, looking both ways before I crossed the street to Tate’s place.
He’d left me a note on my front door saying that he was at home whenever I got home, and to come over when I got changed into old clothes.
Why I needed old clothes, I had no clue, but I did as he asked, changing into my oldest pair of jeans from high school that barely fit. They were old, stained, and so thin in some places that there probably wasn’t much life left in them. I followed the pants up with an old black t-shirt that used to be Reed’s—yes, I’d stolen that from Krisney, too. Finally, I finished the ensemble by putting on a pair of short ankle socks, my old Nikes that’d seen better days, and my hair up into a high ponytail.