Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Hell, I did that last night when I fell asleep against his chest, but here I am in the light of day and he’s gone. The last time that happened… well, if I’m going on historical events, one of the club girls should be wearing his shirt in the kitchen this morning.
Telling myself to act like a grown woman rather than a child, I shower quickly and dress in the clothes Kid retrieved for me yesterday. I even slip my legs into one of the pairs of lacy underwear he had purchased for me, hoping that it will act as some sort of armor if I see one of the other girls wearing the Minecraft shirt he had on yesterday.
I let out a long, harsh breath and make my way to the kitchen. There are a handful of people still eating and chatting amongst themselves. Thankfully, Emmalyn and Kincaid are in the bunch. Emmalyn smiles brightly and gives me a little wave as I walk in. I dart my eyes around as inconspicuously as possible and feel relief wash over me when I don’t see the bright red shirt I knew was going to torture me this morning.
I grab a few things on a plate and sit down beside Emmalyn. Kincaid nods his head briefly then turns his attention to one of the other bikers sitting beside him.
“You settling in okay?” Emmalyn asks.
“Yes,” I say with an appreciative smile. “I’m very grateful for the hospitality.”
“If you need anything or someone to talk to, I’m here,” she offers. “It wasn’t so long ago that I was brought here. It’s a lot to get used to.”
I take a few more bites of food before speaking again. “I feel,” I pause trying to decide on the best word to use. “Useless. I’d like to do something to help out. I hate feeling like a freeloader. I turn eighteen next month. If I’m still here I can get a job and help with bills or something. But right now I just feel like a bum.”
Kincaid cuts his eyes to me. “The women here don’t have to work.” I swallow roughly at the tone of his voice. “If this is where you want to be, you stay as long as you like. But don’t for a second feel like you owe this club something, you don’t.”
I nod my head because arguing with the burly biker president is not an option.
Emmalyn nods at me and pats him on the arm in a calming fashion.
“I’d like to help out around here,” I whisper to her. “If anything to just stay busy.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I was heading into town in a bit to get things for the garden. You’re more than welcome to join me. Rose is out of town for a few days so the company would be nice.”
“I don’t know the first thing about gardening,” I confess.
She shrugs. “Neither do I, but I Googled it. How hard can it be?”
I hear Kincaid snort a quick laugh, but he doesn’t say anything to discourage us.
I finish my breakfast and gather my things at the table. “Let me change and I’ll be right back. You were planning to go now, right?”
She laughs at my enthusiasm to get out of here. “Yes.”
I don’t know much about gardening, but I do know it involves dirt. Since I dressed to impress in my favorite jeans, I had to change into something I didn’t mind getting stained.
Five minutes is all it takes to get changed into something more garden-friendly and pull my hair back. Emmalyn is waiting for me near the front door, along with Snatch, the extremely tattooed biker. My steps falter when I realize that they’re both waiting for me.
Noticing my dismay, Emmalyn takes a step forward. “I’m not a girly-girl, but Kincaid said that we’re going to need lots of bags of dirt and stuff. I don’t plan on lifting a bunch of heavy bags. Snatch is going to tag along and do the lifting for us.”
Snatch grins ear to ear like he’s beyond excited to be helpful.
We turn toward the door and Emmalyn loops her arm through mine. “Plus,” she whispers in my ear. “Kincaid doesn’t want us leaving the clubhouse without one of the guys, in case there’s trouble.”
Trouble? What kind of trouble could we possibly encounter buying dirt and flowers from a hardware store?
“Got it,” I say as we make our way to the SUV parked in the front of the house.
***
The trip to Lowe’s was… entertaining. Snatch, the scary biker, sang to every one of the Top 20 songs that played on the radio. I would’ve stereotyped him as either an old school rock n’ roll type or heavy metal, and I would’ve been wrong. Add in the behind-the-wheel dance moves and I can honestly say I’m no longer afraid to be in the same room with him anymore.