Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“That sounds like a jealous girlfriend,” he says, following me to the door. I comb my fingers through my hair and then wipe the makeup smudged around my eyes. I’m red and raw all around my mouth, and it’s obvious what we’ve just been doing, but there’s no helping that.
I turn to him with my hand on the doorknob. “I never said I’d use the bat on the women.”
He chuckles as I open the door and re-enter the lively party. I search for Bentley, spotting him laughing at something Dawson and Honey are saying to him. I can see they’ve somehow found him a coloring book and pencils.
I begin making my way over to him, but Billie, who is dancing with a girlfriend, grabs my attention.
“Hey, did you want to dance?” she slurs, a little drunker than when we last spoke.
“I don’t dance,” I tell her, and Dutton coughs behind me.
“Oh, okay. Well, what about a drink?” She holds up her glass. “I also really want to escape… but family.” She gives me an eye roll.
“Hey, we’re not all bad!” says a woman with short blonde hair, blue eyes, and a curvaceous figure.
“Pssh. You’re the chosen ones,” Billie mumbles. “This is Ivy Walker. And the red-haired one is Hope Ivanov. And this sharpshooter here is Jewel Monti. But don’t draw too much attention to her, or Eli will come and steal her. It took me so long just to get her to stand here.”
“Not a dancer or a big drinker,” Jewel says with a smile. There’s something edgy about her, but I imagine marrying a mafia boss, you’d have to be. “I never thought I’d see the day a woman would woo Dutton.”
He glares at her over my shoulder, and I can’t help but want to laugh, realizing he really is just an ass to everyone. “I still can’t believe you fell for my cousin’s lack of charm,” he bites back.
“At least he tried to charm me. You just chloroformed me the first time we met,” she replies.
My head whips in his direction, and he shrugs. “She infiltrated a party.”
“Don’t worry. I threw a dagger in Eli’s leg, so I’m not all rosy.” She winks at me, and I’m baffled how casually they talk about this stuff. Definitely not your ordinary family.
“Will you come out with us next time we organize a girls’ night?” Billie asks, and she looks like she’s almost pleading with me. I realize then that all of these women seem to be around my age. Although all entirely different from each other, they’re freely and unapologetically living their lives. It’s something I’d recently been wanting to explore again—time for myself. Fun. And I know without a doubt this group of women would be a wild time.
“Maybe, if I can work it out with Bentley’s babysitter,” I tell her, meaning it. “Happy birthday, and thanks for letting me crash the party. I hope you get fucked up; that’s always my favorite thing to do on my birthday. But if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time I take my son home.”
She lunges for me, wrapping me in a hug, and I’m stunned once again by how welcoming his family is. “Okay, but I’ll hold you to that night of getting fucked up sometime.”
“If Posie has a free night, I can assure you she’ll be spending it with me,” Dutton says. She pokes her tongue out at him, and I can’t help but laugh as I turn to find Bentley.
He spots me first and smiles big. “Momma! Mr. Dawson said I can have this coloring book. Look, it’s Transformers.”
“That’s very specific,” I say, looking at Dawson.
“It didn’t take long for my assistant to get one from the shops. I have a whole bag of other options here, too, if you’d like to take them home,” he offers. Honey is smiling sweetly behind him. Okay, now I understand why I have the impression Dutton was spoiled as a kid.
“Tell them thank you, but it’s time we leave,” I say to Bentley.
“Close to bedtime?” Honey asks, her smile lines evidence of the bright, happy person she is.
“This kid needs more beauty sleep than I do.” I chuckle, picking him up and putting him on my hip.
I bump into someone. At first, I thought it was Dutton, but then the smell of leather hits me.
I hate the smell of leather.
It reminds me of one person.
“Posie, is that you?”
My stomach drops at the familiar voice, and my gaze meets the dark brown eyes of Waylon Striker. When I left Boston, he was a member of the same motorcycle club as Bobbi.
I liked Waylon. He was nice… Well, as pleasant as a ruthless biker could be. One night, I saw him beat someone’s head in for talking back to one of his men. Then he proceeded to get drunk a few minutes later like it never happened. But he always had respect for women, though I can’t say the same for the rest of the men he worked alongside. What the fuck is he doing here?