Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“You too, Bruno.” The dog whined and hung his head, but he slinked off, tail between his legs like he’d been kicked, to lie down beside the door. “Come on,” the guy said, grabbing my arm, and guiding me inside.
“Wait!” Before he could push me any farther into the interior, I had to know his freaking name.
“You never told me your name.”
“Holly didn’t tell you?” He looked amused. “I mean, since you’re friends and all.”
“Hey, she said that. Not me. Cute kid, though. Nice dog.”
He chuckled. “Likely, she thought your presence would keep her out of the trouble she’s in with her mother and father.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m El Segador. Most everyone calls me Reaper.”
Oh. Fuck. I was in so much trouble…
“Well, that’s not intimidating or anything.” The statement slipped out before I could stop myself.
Reaper chuckled. “It’s just a name, Swan. I didn’t choose mine either.”
That caught me off guard. “You didn’t. Who did?”
“Not really sure.” He’d paused and got a puzzled look on his face. “I’ve had that name as long as I can remember.”
“Well, I’m not sure it suits you. You don’t look like a Reaper.”
Instantly, his mein changed. “Looks can be deceivin’, girl.”
He probably meant to look and sound dangerous, but he just looked… hot. Intense. Wow.
“Need to add to my bucket list,” I muttered. That entry would be “Fuck a biker.”
“Bucket list?” He looked like he’d never heard of bucket lists.
“Yeah. You know. A list of stuff I want to do before I die.”
“Ah. I see. Well, I have no idea what you’re putting on that list, but I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get it done.”
Right. If only. “Yeah. So, are we eating?” I wanted to change the subject. I didn’t like to think about it, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would be limited in what I could do and what I had to give up on. Which was why I was getting as much traveling done as I could now.
“Of course.” Reaper ushered me inside the kitchen. Instead of a big dining table, there was a little breakfast nook and a long, island bar. The adults gathered around the bar while the children sat at the table, happily chatting away while they drowned their pancakes in syrup.
“Smells great!” I grinned as I entered. “Is that sausage, too?”
“Yep.” The guy manning the pancake griddle grinned at me over his shoulder. “Pancakes and sausage. Just a little bit of syrup.” He grinned as he held his thumb and finger an inch apart as he glanced at the kids. “I’m Archangel.”
“Swan,” I said. Then grinned. “Yeah. Have a few pancakes with the syrup, huh?”
“You got it, darlin’.” The man was charming, and I found myself blushing at his attention. Which meant there were two guys giving me palpitations. Yeah. Definitely needed to add “Fuck a biker” to my list.
“Watch it, Angel,” Reaper snapped.
The other man just laughed. “You keep that one in line, darlin’. He can be a tad cranky when he’s bored.”
“Might have to help with that bucket list of yours,” Reaper said as he handed me a plate and proceeded to pile on the pancakes.
“Stop!” I laughed as he put a fourth cake on the stack. “No way I can eat that much!’
“You’re gonna try,” he said firmly, giving me a dark look.
“Sorry, big guy.” I started putting pancakes back on the platter. “Two is plenty. After that I just get a sugar rush from the syrup.”
As I was pulling my plate back, he tossed on three pieces of sausage. When I gave him an exasperated sigh, he raised an eyebrow. “It will counteract the sugar.”
“I can’t eat all this.”
“When was the last time you ate a complete meal?”
“Hum… Define complete…”
“Something not out of a vending machine.” He crossed those tattooed arms over his brawny chest. And really, why had he put on a shirt in the first place? A body like that should be naked. At all times. If he was, I could just eat him up.
“Thinkin’ that one’s hungry for something not on my menu,” Archangel said as he flipped another pancake.
“I -- what?” Shit. They’d caught me fantasizing about Reaper and called me out on it.
“If that’s the kind of stuff you’ve got on that bucket list of yours,” Reaper said, “I’ll definitely be able to help you out.” The bastard had a shit-eating grin on his face.
I ducked my head, concentrating on eating the food on my plate. It was way more than I was used to eating in one sitting. Maybe I ate that much throughout the whole day, but I doubted it. I just wasn’t hungry most days. Mainly, it was that, if I stopped to eat, it meant thinking about my situation. When I did, I lost my appetite and got depressed.